{"id":163589,"date":"2020-10-28T16:11:25","date_gmt":"2020-10-28T23:11:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.rei.com\/blog\/?p=163589"},"modified":"2020-12-08T12:47:43","modified_gmt":"2020-12-08T20:47:43","slug":"op-ed-why-we-need-access-to-the-outdoors-more-than-ever","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.rei.com\/blog\/paddle\/op-ed-why-we-need-access-to-the-outdoors-more-than-ever","title":{"rendered":"Op-Ed: Why We Need Access to the Outdoors More Than Ever"},"content":{"rendered":"

This op-ed represents the opinions of Corey Buhay.<\/em><\/p>\n

M<\/span>onths ago, I was floating down the home stretch of a 20-day, 279-mile Grand Canyon rafting trip. I\u2019d spent three weeks immersed in remote landscapes\u2014no cell service or internet, no cars or airplane noise, no ceilings or walls. Removed from those distractions, I felt like a new person, like I\u2019d reconnected with a piece of myself that had been missing.<\/p>\n

But when our crew of 15\u2014a motley group of seasoned rowers, kayakers and friends-of-friends\u2014came ashore, we were greeted from a distance by our shuttle driver, a woman named Marilyn. \u201cThe world you\u2019re coming back to is not the one you left,\u201d she told us. It was April 3, 2020.<\/p>\n

\"Rafts

Photo Credit: Erin Horn London<\/p><\/div>\n

About three weeks earlier, I had stuffed a tent, a drysuit, Edward Abbey\u2019s Desert Solitaire<\/em> and several duffels full of clothes into the back of my friend\u2019s car and started driving west from my home in Boulder, Colorado. We were headed to Flagstaff, Arizona, to meet the rest of the crew and get ready for our put-in date that weekend.<\/p>\n

As I prepared for my first-ever rafting trip, nerves and excitement filled my head. I was only keeping half an eye on the news. At the time, I knew the COVID-19 situation in Europe was worsening and that the outbreak had reached Seattle. But, at the time, I couldn\u2019t fathom that the virus would spread to the rest of the United States.<\/p>\n

Only later did I find out that the day we left cell service, March 14, was the day my hometown declared a local disaster emergency. While we were paddling the Colorado River, dozens of states, including Colorado, issued stay-at-home orders, schools and businesses shut down across the country, and the coronavirus grew into an unprecedented national health emergency.<\/p>\n

Our only clue about the rapidly changing situation was one cryptic satellite message from our outfitter, which told us that the road to our original takeout point at Diamond Creek Beach was closed<\/a>\u2014we were later told it was a COVID-response\u00a0measure by the Hualapai Tribe, whose lands surround the takeout\u2014and that we\u2019d have to row another 60 miles to meet our shuttle. Aside from that, we didn\u2019t know what to expect.<\/p>\n

\"Paddlers

Photo Credit: Erin Horn London<\/p><\/div>\n

We spent those last 60 miles floating through the desolate, seldom-paddled silt flats. The hoarse roar of the rapids and the echoing trickles of the side canyons were gone. We rowed in eerie silence, wondering what had happened while we were gone. Now, we were about to get caught up.<\/p>\n

\u201cRestaurants are closed. Hotels are closed,\u201d said Marilyn, who works for Ceiba Adventures, the outfitter we\u2019d hired for our gear rentals and shuttles. \u201cWe will be driving straight back, and we will not be stopping except to fill up gas. We will not get out of the car at the gas station.\u201d<\/p>\n

The virus is everywhere, she told us. Double-check your flights; they may have been canceled. Double-check your route home; your state\u2019s borders might be closed. You will have to quarantine in your house for two weeks. The world is on lockdown. My head was spinning.<\/p>\n

We washed our hands and loaded into the shuttle van. About halfway back to Flagstaff, we hit cell service and our phones started buzzing. \u201cI\u2019m not turning mine on,\u201d said one of the guys in the seat in front of me. \u201cI don\u2019t want to look.\u201d<\/p>\n

We could only put it off for so long. Messages rolled in\u2014worried texts from friends, emails from bosses about closed offices. News updates. Death tolls. I started to panic. My partner and I live full time in a van. We\u2019ve always considered our situation ideal for any kind of disaster resilience, but, like most people, we were not prepared for a pandemic.<\/p>\n

Thankfully, a close friend took us in for those first few months of quarantine.<\/p>\n

During that time, I ventured outside to run or walk, but the peace I felt while in the Grand Canyon was replaced by a slow-simmering anxiety.<\/p>\n

O<\/span>ver the years, nature has always been a source of calm for me<\/a>. I have a history of anxiety, depression and eating disorders, and I credit the time I\u2019ve spent in remote woodlands to helping me find peace and learn to rely on myself. In college, backpacking in North Carolina\u2019s Pisgah National Forest and the Great Smoky Mountains taught me to trust my body after a decade of constant battle with it.<\/p>\n

Amid the stresses of daily life during a pandemic, I realized that, more than ever, I needed the shift in perspective that extended time in the outdoors had always provided\u2014just as stay-at-home orders, public lands closures and travel bans were making it uniquely difficult to achieve.<\/p>\n

For a lot of people, the pandemic has turned life upside down. It\u2019s decimated savings, derailed dreams and thrown the future into dark uncertainty. I\u2019ve been fortunate to have remained relatively unscathed so far, especially compared with those who have fallen sick, lost jobs, buried loved ones or faced other challenges.<\/p>\n

The impacts of COVID-19 have disproportionately affected<\/a> Native Americans, including Native tribes in the Grand Canyon area where I was. The Navajo Nation and Hualapai Tribe, for example, have experienced some of the highest per-capita rates of COVID-19<\/a>\u00a0in the country. Decisions to close areas, like the Diamond Creek takeout or suspend Havasupai tourism,<\/a>\u00a0can\u00a0also have significant economic impacts<\/a> on the Native communities the measures are designed to help protect.<\/p>\n

Fifty-three percent of adults report that pervasive concerns about the virus have negatively impacted their mental health, according to a poll conducted in July by the Kaiser Family Foundation<\/a>. These adverse mental health effects are often much worse for BIPOC (Black, Indigenous and People of Color) communities, who not only experience\u00a0higher rate of infection and death rates from COVID-19<\/a>, but also have historically limited access to both medical and mental health care, according to the CDC<\/a>.<\/p>\n

For those who\u2019ve lost jobs, unemployment is connected to long-term negative mental health effects<\/a>.\u00a0In fact, one recent survey<\/a> has correlated pandemic-related income loss\u2014where racial disparities persist<\/a>\u2014to a higher occurrence of clinically significant depression and anxiety symptoms, concluding that a quarter of all U.S. adults are experiencing \u201chigh emotional distress.\u201d As the pandemic wears on, the World Health Organization expects<\/a> a spike in mental health conditions in its wake.<\/p>\n

As we navigate and eventually recover from this crisis, we\u2019ll need to rely on the mental health-boosting effects of nature\u2014oft-prescribed for everything from addiction recovery<\/a> to depression<\/a>\u2014more than ever. We\u2019re already seeing more people spending time outdoors: States like Minnesota<\/a> and Pennsylvania<\/a> have recorded up to 200 percent increases in year-over-year trail use during the pandemic, and camping booking services have reported up to 400 percent growth<\/a>, according to\u00a0The Guardian<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s something special about the deep woods, the wide-open desert, the high peaks, even the lusher corners of an urban park. Those places help remove us from\u00a0the anxieties and immediate pressures of everyday life. They remind us of who we are: part of the fabric of something greater.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Right now, we need outdoor spaces free\u00a0from the distractions of modern technology and the negativity of our never-ending internet feeds.\u00a0There are plenty of mental health benefits to be found in spending time outdoors, be it a neighborhood walk or bike ride through the city. But there\u2019s something special about the deep woods, the wide-open desert, the high peaks, even the lusher corners of an urban park. Those places help remove us from\u00a0the anxieties and immediate pressures of everyday life. They remind us of who we are: part of the fabric of something greater.<\/p>\n

Despite this need, new reservation systems and travel restrictions as a result of COVID-19 have left many Americans cut off from wooded trails and mountain vistas. Those measures worsen already rampant inequities in outdoor access and highlight the continued need for greater inclusivity in outdoor recreation.<\/p>\n

\"Paddlers

Photo Credit: Corey Buhay<\/p><\/div>\n

O<\/span>ne night on the river, sitting around the campfire, my partner and I looked at the seasoned rafters around us, many of whom had rowed the country\u2019s most formidable rivers. Before the trip, we\u2019d only ever met one of them.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe don\u2019t have any rafting experience whatsoever\u2014why take a chance on us?\u201d we asked them. Our new friends shrugged.<\/p>\n

\u201cRafting can be an insular community. It\u2019s hard to get into it unless you know someone,\u201d they explained. \u201cWe wanted to make sure we left some spots open on the permit for people who were totally new.\u201d<\/p>\n

Grand Canyon river permits are a limited resource. People spend years\u2014even decades\u2014applying to the permit lottery in hopes of winning a chance to row that reach of river. The fact that this group had come together to share that resource made it different from any other outdoor community I\u2019d been a part of. I\u2019m primarily a rock and ice climber, and in those communities, crags and frozen flows are often kept secret to preserve them for those in the know. As a result, those communities can feel exclusive, even unwelcoming, to outsiders.<\/p>\n

Beyond the permit, friends-of-friends came out of the woodworks to lend rafting-specific gear my partner and I didn\u2019t have. I borrowed a drysuit from a total stranger.<\/p>\n

\"Grand

Photo Credit: Erin Horn London<\/p><\/div>\n

As the pandemic wears on and outdoor access remains tenuous, this type of welcoming should be the norm. It\u2019s incumbent on us to share tips, gear and trail information across the outdoor community, even with total strangers. It\u2019s also more pressing than ever that we fight for equitable outdoor access: better education to minimize impacts on trails instead of permit lottery systems, better government funding instead of higher entrance fees, more accessible shuttles instead of bigger parking lots, and more programs that work to make the outdoors feel more inclusive to people of all backgrounds and abilities.<\/p>\n

In a fast-moving world, I think time spent in the outdoors is one of the last real antidotes we have for chronic stress and anxiety. I\u2019ve also found the effects of these experiences to be long-lasting. The deep peace I found in the Grand Canyon may have left me, but I can still tap into it if I close my eyes and fall back into my memories. Amid all this turmoil, and all the anxiety I\u2019ve been feeling, it helps to know there\u2019s a place out there, somewhere, where rich biodiversity and deep quiet still exist.<\/p>\n

Just knowing there\u2019s refuge, however far away, makes a closed world feel more open. It\u2019s a window in a windowless room. It\u2019s hope.<\/p>\n

So, if you\u2019re able to, spend time exploring wide-open landscapes. (And try to find ways to help others do the same, like supporting groups working toward a more inclusive outdoor community<\/a>, or by inviting an acquaintance along for a hike.) If you\u2019re not, find a patch of community garden or even just a tree to sit beneath. Start dreaming of a future trip to a mountain or desert you\u2019ve never seen Find a time or place beyond the crowds and go for a walk or a bike ride.<\/p>\n

Soak it all in and store it up, because those memories will stick with you. And you never know when you might need them.<\/p>\n

Editor\u2019s note: Please consult the\u00a0CDC<\/a>\u00a0or your state health department for information related to the COVID-19 pandemic. When spending time outdoors, please\u00a0recreate responsibly<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/span>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This op-ed represents the opinions of Corey Buhay. onths ago, I was floating down the home stretch of a 20-day, 279-mile Grand Canyon rafting trip. I\u2019d spent three weeks immersed in remote landscapes\u2014no cell service or internet, no cars or airplane noise, no ceilings or walls. Removed from those distractions, I felt like a new […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":26,"featured_media":163592,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[685,9],"tags":[935,727,1749,1695],"internal-tag":[],"class_list":["post-163589","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news","category-paddle","tag-grand-canyon","tag-latest-posts","tag-opinion","tag-paddle"],"parsely":{"version":"1.1.0","canonical_url":"https:\/\/rei.com\/blog\/paddle\/op-ed-why-we-need-access-to-the-outdoors-more-than-ever","smart_links":{"inbound":0,"outbound":0},"traffic_boost_suggestions_count":0,"meta":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@type":"NewsArticle","headline":"Op-Ed: Why We Need Access to the Outdoors More Than Ever","url":"http:\/\/www.rei.com\/blog\/paddle\/op-ed-why-we-need-access-to-the-outdoors-more-than-ever","mainEntityOfPage":{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"http:\/\/www.rei.com\/blog\/paddle\/op-ed-why-we-need-access-to-the-outdoors-more-than-ever"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/www.rei.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/4\/2020\/10\/GC20_EHL-97_hero.jpg?resize=150%2C150","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","url":"https:\/\/www.rei.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/4\/2020\/10\/GC20_EHL-97_hero.jpg?fit=2000%2C1000"},"articleSection":"News","author":[{"@type":"Person","name":"Michelle Flandreau"}],"creator":["Michelle Flandreau"],"publisher":{"@type":"Organization","name":"Uncommon Path \u2013 An REI Co-op Publication","logo":""},"keywords":["grand canyon","latest posts","opinion","paddle"],"dateCreated":"2020-10-28T23:11:25Z","datePublished":"2020-10-28T23:11:25Z","dateModified":"2020-12-08T20:47:43Z"},"rendered":"