The shirt I’m wearing right now is currently 9 years old. Damn, I have a nephew who’s younger than that. Does this mean I’m getting old?

It’s not just some shirt that I wear on occasion, it’s a shirt I wear weekly. It’s become a staple of my wardrobe and more importantly changed the way I think about clothing.

Yes I recognize this photo is not nearly as cool as I thought it was at the time.

Here’s a picture of me circa 2011 in the same shirt I still wear to this day. Not the same type of shirt or the same brand, but literally the same exact shirt I was wearing in 8th grade.

When I first went backpacking, I bought one of these merino wool base layers to wear. At some point, I bought another one when they were on sale. But for the most part, I didn’t care much about it. Over time, I would wear them camping, but that was about it.

For the most part, they sat in my box full of camping gear. Until one fateful day my freshman year of college. I had put off doing laundry. All I had left was the base layers. So I threw one on and repeated the next day. Over time, they ended up being a staple in my wardrobe. These days my wardrobe consists of a pair of chinos, a base layer, and some fun socks. While simplifying my wardrobe wasn’t a conscious decision, I’m glad I made it and encourage you to do the same. Here’s why.

I’m writing this article with the assumption that nobody will read it. In six months I’ll ask myself why I even joined gymnastics. I’m hoping this will help jog my memory then.

Let’s say you’re craving something different. You’re craving something out of the ordinary. Simply put, you want to go on an adventure.

You can buy a plane ticket to a fancy place. Let’s say Iceland*. You grab your passport, pack your bags, and you jet off. While you’re at it you rent a swanky RV.

You can drive around, eat at neat restaurants, see lots of sights, and take lots of photos.

But that’s not an adventure. That’s just travel.

To me, travel does not equal adventure.

Adventure is almost missing your flight, losing your phone, and getting stuck in the mud. Adventure is what happens when you go off the script.

Adventure is trying to cook soup while driving. Adventure is climbing behind waterfalls. Adventure is finding love in random places.

Here’s the secret, you can do all of these things without traveling far.

You can find just as much of an adventure biking through a part of town you’ve never been to or by getting lost in your local state park.

Here’s my challenge to you. Stop watching travel vlogs. Close your computer. Throw on your shoes and get out there. Because adventure awaits and it rewards the restless.

*I chose Iceland because this was a realization I had while traveling around Iceland in a swanky RV.

Over the past year, I’ve noticed a big push to find your park.

I find this absurd.

As an Eagle Scout and avid outdoorsman, I’ve spent the better part of the past two decades exploring national parks. I was blessed to have parents who took our family to national parks every chance they had. Our national parks system is one of our greatest assets. One that I truly do believe is underappreciated.

I’m all for individuals finding adventure. I believe it is instrumental in developing the human spirit. But the notion of finding your park creates a mentality of takers.

The idea that individuals should find their park inherently implies that the park is theirs. It encourages them to treat it as if it belonged to them. This is all at a time when parks are already struggling. Over the past few years, our national parks have surged in popularity, which is putting a strain on the parks already limited resources.

The statement “find YOUR park” leads individuals to explore these parks as if they were their own. It implies a sense of ownership. It leads individuals stray off of marked trails, litter the woods, and deface natural artifacts.

The slogan also reinforces the notion that one’s experience at a national park should be catered to them. Instead of being mere observers, visitors have come to demand

What happened to staying in quaint cabins?

higher expectations. They expect accommodations and dining to meet commercial standards. In order to cater to these growing demands, companies like Xanterra, have stepped in to provide fine lodging and concessions within the parks. No longer are the accommodations in national parks basic cabins, they now rival luxury hotels (with prices to match).

All I’m saying is let’s not Disney-ify our national parks. Let’s not tear down forests so visitors can have better coffee. Sure let’s make them accessible for all to see, but at the same time be conscious of the footprint we leave. Let’s keep them pristine. Let’s leave them as we found them, not as we want them to be.

So please, don’t find YOUR park, rather discover OUR parks.

P.S. if you ever have any questions on how to adventure in the wilderness without leaving a trace, please don’t hesitate to message me.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine pointed out that I’d hit my one year anniversary of sailing with the UT Sailing Club.

In that time, I’ve learned a couple things (I know most of you didn’t think I was capable of that). Number one, if someone is yelling at you…just duck.

Things Break. Be Ready:

The first time I ever went sailing at UT, a few members managed to break a sailboat in half. Somehow, I was convinced that this was the group of people I should learn to sail with.

We’ve had numerous parts break on us at inopportune times. Sometimes it’s just poor luck and sometimes it’s our own incompetence (hint: it’s usually the latter). Instead of fretting and freaking out, you quickly learn to calm down and figure out how to improvise until you can fix it (or duct tape over it until the next person finds it).

Find a Sport:

As someone whose athletic claim to fame is scoring on my own soccer team in fourth grade, I never really understood the appeal of sports-ball competitions. I never understood how people bonded over flailing balls and pucks at each other.

After getting involved with J24 racing (the type of boat we race) it finally clicked. I understood how sports build camaraderie. The shared spirit of wanting to accomplish something. The coordination required to do something as simple as tack (turn) into another direction. The panic when things go wrong, it all just made sense.

I’ve probably inhaled just enough fiberglass while working on Jolly Bevo (our beloved J24) to shave a few months off my lifespan (how’s that for dedication), woken up sore every morning for a week after a regatta, and spent a too many hours in cold water, but somehow it all makes sense.

I have found a newfound respect for athletes and for my fellow professional Netflix connoisseurs, maybe give another sport a try.

What my parent’s think I do when I say I’m sailing.

Everything Makes Sense. Except When It Doesn’t:

When I began sailing I floundered around in the water. Pulling on the mainsheet (the line that controls the sail) and messing with the tiller. More often than not I found myself in the water with the boat upside down. I didn’t understand what was going on and decided that sailing is essentially magic.

In the past year, I have learned more about sailing that any sane person should know (the amount of sailing knowledge I have has gone from nothing to being well informed, and has now peaked at nerdy). Generally, things make sense. I can read and react to the wind. When things go wrong, I can ascertain what I should look for. Once you know what you’re doing, sailing becomes a lot less like magic and a lot more like science. It’s a nice reminder that behind all the things we take for granted, there’s a lot more happening behind the scenes. At least for me, it has led me to become even more inquisitive (this was probably my elementary school teacher’s biggest nightmare).

But every once in a while, things just do not make sense. You can be sailing next to an identical boat doing the exact same thing as you and they still manage to surpass you. In those cases, I have decided to accept that sailing is still magic.

Bonus – Boat Puns Are Great:

I haven’t a clew where this fits in, but I have a newfound appreciation for boat puns and dad jokes. Maybe I’ve been pier pressured into appreciating them or maybe it is aboat time I started growing fond of them.

That is all.

End Notes:

One year in, I’ve been grateful that I somehow got roped into sailing. If you ever want to sail (regardless of whether you’re a pro or have never sailed before), let me know and I would love to get you out on the water (please note, you will be subjected to boat puns).