There was a time in my life where I was connected to the outdoor world through the people and gear. That connection enhanced everything I did outside, and – taking it step further – pushed to be more and do more when I was on one of my crazy adventures.
I was in the middle of a great career at Thule, when I was approached to write knife and tool reviews for The Gear Institute. Both of those, in communion, connected me with other people who were splitting their time between the 9-5 grind and the outdoors.
All of us knew enough to influence one another about this thing or that – use this tent, try that knife, eat this food – and it was something that added to all of our lives.
Covid changed all of that.
In a time where more of these thoughts and ideas should have been shared and applied, we were all forced to retreat – refocus and reset while the world figured out what was wrong and what the impact the pandemic really had on us was.
But that doesn’t mean we stopped thinking about this stuff or stopped living that life.
The hardcore dirtbags in the mix found new veins to expose while sleeping through starry nights on platforms held in place with cams and carabiners.
The writers found new things to write about while they tried to hang on and put food on the table in a place in time where they couldn’t go out and find more things to write about.
I tucked myself into a new job; writing and building brands, raising my daughters, teaching them how to plant trees and tend to gardens, and making knives.
I enjoyed the pandemic. I liked the scary stuff and the idea that shit could go sideways at the flip of a coin. But that’s because I was prepared. I know life without modern amenities. I have everything at the ready if we have to get up and go. I could survive in that situation – struggle and all.
But that doesn’t mean I didn’t miss the connections and opportunities of hitting up a tradeshow or throwing back a beer with someone I only knew through email; going to an industry party or getting wild things sent to me in the mail to toil over and write about.
Now, here we are – adjusted to whatever this is now. Not the “new normal” but just life as we’re living it – and I have had the great opportunity to reconnect: to talk shop again. To share my thoughts in the air and on paper about this tent, that knife, or what food to eat.
But this time around, I am not only enjoying it from the inside – but I’m living inside of it. Foraging berries. Growing gardens. Finding new trails. Making new trails. Sipping my morning coffee while I nod at the solar panels on the roof of my 1300-square-foot cottage on a plot of property owned by my ancestors.
Full circle. All of it – and all the while I’ve been writing. Honing the skill that got me everywhere I’ve ever been, professionally.
So as the world opens back up and opportunities to reconnect with all of the other outdoorsians begin to blossom, I get a little emotional. I get a little deep. I start focusing on the details – and I realize that all of this is natural. That I have – just like my peer around me – a wealth of knowledge that is an extension of the person I am. Information that I can share – and expound on – without Google or any form of reference outside of what I’ve stored in my mind.
Take a deep breath.
Tribe Of Flannel 