A long-form piece investigating the interdependence of outdoor recreation and the fossil fuel industry, asking “is loving nature really enough to save it?”. Written for Adventure Uncovered’s 15th edition, Abundance.
It’s early 2022, and an email lands in my inbox. “Winter doesn’t stand a chance” reads the subject line – seemingly apt, given that in the same week, research was published showing that Everest’s highest glacier, South Col, had lost 2000 years of ice since the 1990s. Traversed by climbers on their way to the summit, South Col is thinning 80 times faster than expected, a rate which could see it disappear completely by halfway through this century.
Such losses are not only confined to the Himalayas; two-thirds of glacier ice in the Alps is projected to melt by the end of the century, with half already doomed to melt as a result of past baked-in emissions. Meltwater now accounts for over one fifth of global sea level rise.
And yet, that wasn’t what the message was referring to. A marketing blast from one of the UK’s best-loved outdoor brands, it was promoting their new line of mountaineering gear, promising endless exploration – but only if you click “Shop now”.
The outdoor industry has always incorporated elements of environmentalism, from Patagonia’s renowned corporate activism to t-shirts reminding us that “the mountains are calling.” Yet the two diverge before reaching their final outcomes. Traditional forms of ‘adventure’ depend on pushing boundaries, breaking records and long-distance travel to the remotest destinations, culminating in some kind of result, be it widespread recognition, self-realisation or a moment of escapism. In such instances, we always have something to gain from exploring nature, be it physical, spiritual or emotional. And in turn, someone or something must lose. More often than not, it’s the planet.
The nature-loving exterior of outdoor recreation has for a long time been enough to hide its dependency on natural resource extraction, from petroleum-based synthetic fabrics to accepting without question land-management approaches that conserve “beauty” at the cost of ecological diversity. With less than a decade to avert catastrophic climate breakdown, we continue to see nature as a playground, instead of our home, often choosing adrenaline and adventure over humility and harmony, and creating new ways of moving in the outdoors. We can call ourselves outdoors-lovers, but the question remains – is loving nature really enough to save it?
Find the full piece here.
