I have a long-standing affection for hiking, backpacking, and exploring the natural world on foot and independently. I also am a big fan of the National Park system and all the opportunities and experiences it offers. When setting out for adventure, it was my habit to find the most challenging trail, destination, or activity and make sure I conquered it – the tougher the better. I was dismissive of paved trails, easy hikes, and car camping. But, once I had a family, I realized (through frustrating and tearful trial and error) that maybe there was some merit to campgrounds with facilities and came to understand those easy trails were a perfect way to introduce little ones to things I cherished. Of course, kids got older. Things went back to being more challenging. And I went back to trying to be 20-something though I could plainly see that I was not. Even now, I overlook injuries, surgeries, natural aging, and my status as a plump, cookie baking Grandma.

Which is exactly how I got into trouble in Zion National Park, Utah just prior to my time here in Bandelier. I made the rookie mistake of overestimating my capabilities. I hadn’t planned on a hike but we came to a trailhead that I remembered and knew led to a spectacular view. I had optimism. I didn’t have hiking boots. I didn’t think about an unstable ankle. I didn’t calculate the change in elevation over a relatively short distance. I did have trekking poles and a hat. I figured that was enough. It wasn’t. I took a nasty tumble. I injured that already unstable ankle. I severely inflamed my patellar tendon. I got some spectacular bruises from all the rocks. But, as I painfully made my way down the trail, I realized that what I had been trying to do was maintain the idea of being “outdoorsy.”

That idea is based in large measure on what we are told and shown the ideal outdoorsy person is – young, able-bodied, athletic, lean, tanned, adventurous, and never ever content with being average. We are inundated with messages about these people. They live in tents and wear water sandals or hiking boots. They have the latest in outdoor gear and gadgets. They drive Subarus and shop at REI. They have obedient dogs that wear bandanas and backpacks. They plan wilderness treks and white water rafting trips. They have the luxury of leisure time. They are not too skinny and certainly never fat. They are never old and never wrinkled. They are mostly white. These messages leave very little room for all the rest of us, which is most of us. And, sometimes these messages create real barriers. For example, as a plump cookie-baking Grandma who also likes to hike and camp, it can be really hard to find good outdoor clothing that fits. Many outfitters don’t carry plus-sizes, and the ones that do tend to relegate it to one or two racks back in a corner with very few options. Regrettably, sales staff can be dismissive of people who are older or disabled. It can be embarrassing and sometimes discouraging. But–

–don’t give up or give in to unrealistic ideas or expectations! It’s good to know your limits, but don’t think that just because you can’t do everything you can’t do anything. That’s not true! If you love the outdoors, speak up for your needs and wishes. Ask for clothing that fits. Support accessibility options. Look for places that match your capabilities – there are lots of levels of difficulty, from wheelchair accessible to rugged wilderness. Don’t be afraid to hit the trail (or the hiking path or a stroll around the park) – here at Bandelier I have seen people of all ages, abilities, genders, colors and cultures out and enjoying this wonderful place. You don’t need a lot of money – a good pair of shoes or boots, a hat, and clothing that offers sun protection can be enough. Look for places you can fit into your time and your budget. You don’t have to go far. National, state, and local parks, forests, lakes, rivers and other recreation areas are closer than you think, and often budget friendly.

Be wise. Learn from my mistake. Try not to get into trouble in Zion or anywhere else. If you see me out and about, stop and say hello.