Don't camp at Big-box parking lots
Don't Camp at Walmart
Big-box parking lots are an easy stopgap, but there's so much public land waiting for those willing to look around a little more.
A few weeks ago, we were headed east on I-10 across southern Arizona en route to work at Sierra Vista with plans to go to Rockhound State Park in Deming, New Mexico, when it became clear that we were going to have to drive into the night if we wanted to make our destination, by the weekend. We’d already been on the move since dawn, the low Clementine sun behind us cast long shadows from the saguaros, and Deming was still three hours up the road. In these pinch moments, when we’re tired, short on time, don’t want to hassle with setup—and only in these moments—it’s tempting to pull Amadeus, which is what we call our Airstream, into a Walmart. Many of the company’s stores (though not all) allow RVs, vanlifers and trailers to camp in their lots, providing simplicity and succor to weary travelers. Scanning my phone, I discovered one just a few miles ahead, in the town of Benson.
Despite our fatigue, we did not stop. And neither should you.
This is nothing against Walmart. I’m no big fan of the superstores, but these days, when more cities are legislating against mobile dwellers, it’s actually pretty cool that the company permits RVs and campers. (Aside: the stores are also often the only source of organic food in rural settings.) However, we avoid them because the experience is pretty much the antithesis of what we want out of road life.
And everyone now and again they round up those folks, especially after the shooting at El Paso TX Walmart. Staying in a parking lot with others is like eating fast food: sure it’s easy, but a visit to the grocery store will produce healthier—if simpler—food and leave you feeling better afterward. The one time we took refuge in a big-box parking lot, we were aprehensive, anxious and exposed all night beneath the blue fluorescent lights, and felt cheap and dirty in the morning. Besides, camping in a parking lot is simply unnecessary, at least not in the American West.
After scanning my phone for a Walmart and resisting the temptation, I flipped over to the OnX app and discovered that we were surrounded by mountains. The Dragoons, the Chiricahuas, the Rincóns, the Galiuros, the Pinaleños—they were all within an hour’s striking distance. And from the look of it, each was replete with public land. A quick cross-reference to AllStays produced a promising option: a place called Indian Bread Rocks, just south of Bowie, was less than an hour up the road and, judging by a satellite view, there were plenty of dispersed campsites tucked in a spray of rock outcrops. Plus, it looked to be only 15 minutes off the highway.
When we pulled in, the place was more stunning than we could have imagined: granite domes and boulders balanced in topsy-turvy piles like prehistoric sculptures. Since we’d only be staying overnight, we didn’t even unhook the trailer, which meant there was just enough time to pull out the camp chairs and sip some bourbon before the sun dropped below the jigsaw horizon. After dinner, we re-emerged into the desert-night chill to a spray of bone-white constellations on a black sky. And when we woke the next morning to a craggy view of the Dos Cabezas Mountains Wilderness spread to the south, we couldn’t resist a hike into the hills. Less than half a mile from Amadeus, we discovered Indian Bread Rocks’s eponymous mortar and pestle holes in the granite shields, where Apaches and others once ground grain. These weren’t on some tourist circuit or even on a trail—like all the best things, they’re out there to be found by anyone willing to poke around.
I’m tempted to say that the experience beat the one we would have had at Walmart, but that’s an absurd understatement. Sandwiching between a dozen campers in a concrete parking lot is as close to our experience at Bread Rocks as tract suburban housing is to a bucolic country bungalow. But you can’t spend every day in a vacation home, you might say. And that’s where you’d be wrong. Amadeus is our mobile manor, and though we work from her as we go, a big reason we moved in was to escape the humdrum of daily life. Though the ease of road-side parking—or pushing hard and rushing to the next destination, or even returning to our fixed address when things aren’t going smoothly—sometimes seems appealing, silent mornings in wild places like Indian Bread Rocks, drinking coffee with a stunning view, and hiking into the hills even when we tell ourselves we don’t have the time, are precisely what make the tradeoffs worthwhile.
The next day as we drove through Deming we passed another Walmart, and I counted at least a dozen trailers and RVs lined up in the far reaches of the lot. Down the road, Rockhound State Park, our missed destination the night before, was overflowing with a scrum of fifth wheels crowded together on the free gravel spots outside the gates. The camp host offered us a patch in the group site with four other rigs, but we declined. The mountains to the south were a patchwork of state and Bureau of Land Management acreage. By early afternoon, we’d found another isolated backcountry site, rolled out the awning, and were in for a week alone in the hills.
The New Spirit of Exploration: Mike Escamilla
The BMX pioneer and Hollywood stuntman is known for thrilling exploits on and off the bike. Now his greatest feat is passing on a sense of adventure to his daughter.
Mike "Rooftop" Escamilla can do almost anything on a bike. The California native essentially invented street riding in the mid-’90s, bringing a skater’s aesthetic to the world of BMX in popular videos that had him grinding rails and gap-jumping roofs. Then came the X Games motions, the big-brand sponsorships, and the world records (he owns two: longest backflip and longest 360). At some point, Escamilla took his already extreme riding to an even wilder level. Picture him backflipping over a helicopter’s spinning blades. Picture him riding through a park full of flaming ramps—and he’s on fire too.
With those last two feats in mind, you won’t be surprised to learn that Escamilla eventually parlayed his athleticism and daredevil attitude into a second career as a Hollywood stuntman, working on box-office hits such as Captain America: Winter Soldier and Captain Marvel. Perhaps more unexpected is the fact that his constant companion in adventure and exploration is only just learning to ride a bike and is still too young to see many of the films he helps create.
“I’ve never met someone that is so excited about life, so curious and so eager to be like, ‘OK, I’ll do it,’” Escamilla says of his six-year-old daughter, Luna. “To see her face so excited about things that I have been doing for so long—there’s nothing better.” And while backflipping BMX bikes and diving through second-story windows might not seem like obvious on-ramps to parenthood, they’ve prepared Escamilla in ways he never could have imagined.
“Riding taught me to see the whole world through those two wheels,” says Escamilla. “Stairs, the street, a ledge, a mound of dirt…BMX showed me the entire world in every way possible.” It’s through that adventure-is-everywhere lens that Escamilla is now approaching each day with Luna.
As a pro athlete and stuntman, Escamilla certainly puts in his time “at the office.” But when he’s not working on the next Marvel Cinematic Universe film, he and Luna are out exploring the world. And for all of the grand adventures the pair has enjoyed together—they’ve been on helicopter rides, gone snowboarding, ridden ziplines, and tried out rock climbing—they’re happiest when they’re sticking close to home, exploring the landscapes surrounding Los Angeles on small road trips.
“She’s so curious,” Escamilla says. “One morning she woke up and she goes, ‘Dad, what’s a cave?’ So we went and found one. And that’s been the case ever since. Every time she asks about something, we just go and do it.”
They hunt for roadside attractions, search for stars in dark skies, hike to hidden waterfalls. Sometimes Escamilla has a specific destination in mind, but often the duo will just wander. Adventure seems to be around every corner. In other words, Escamilla no longer has to set himself on fire to have a good time.
“There’s so much in everyone’s town that they don’t know about,” Escamilla says. “My daughter and I go on so many trips that are within a few hours of our house, and we come back with all these photos and experiences. It’s all there. You could just walk out your door, turn left or right, and you just make an adventure wherever you go.”
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How to Plan Your First Hut Ski Trip
From where to go to what to pack, here's everything a newbie needs to know to pull off a successful first hut trip
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In the past few years, backcountry skiing has become one of the fastest-growing segments in the snowsports industry. If you’re one of the many people who recently started ditching the chairlift, you’ve probably heard of hut trips from some of your off-piste friends.
For the unacquainted, a hut trip involves backcountry skiing to a rustic cabin nestled somewhere in the mountains. It requires extra knowledge, planning, and equipment but makes for the best kind of ski getaway: empty slopes, a group of friends, and a wood-burning stove in a picturesque cabin. We’ve outlined everything newbies need to know to crush their first hut trip.
Get Schooled
No ski patrol in the backcountry means no avalanche mitigation. There are plenty of training courses on how to avoid avalanches and basic rescue techniques. The American Institute for Avalanche Research and Education (AAIRE) is the big name in avalanche preparedness, and various schools offer classes throughout the winter around the country. Courses aren't cheap—an AAIRE Level 1 certification costs about $450—but it’s a necessary investment if you’re going to spend time out of bounds.
Find a Good Hut
To decide on a cabin, consider your group’s skiing ability, fitness level, and how many amenities you want. If it’s a first trip, I recommend finding a hut with an easy approach, about two miles or less from a road, and surrounded by mellow runs.
Colorado’s 10th Mountain Division, a system of 35 huts connected by 350 miles of routes, is a good starting point. Though calling them “huts” is an understatement—they’re beautiful, well-outfitted log cabins. Most sleep around 16 people and come equipped with comfy memory foam mattresses and pillows, a wood-burning stove and oven, and two outhouses. It’s usually easy to book a bed or two throughout the winter, but it’s more fun to reserve an entire hut and bring a crew of friends. To do so, you’ll have to enter a lottery in the spring, which fills up fast. For even more luxury, the Opus Hut (from $50 per person a night) in southwest Colorado is a European-style experience that sleeps 16 people and includes meals.
While Colorado probably has the country’s most extensive system, there are huts scattered throughout the United States. Here’s a helpful resource that lists huts all over North America.
What Gear to Pack
Part of the fun of a hut trip is prepping your kit. It can be tricky, because you want to keep things as light as possible, but winter gear is inherently bulky. You can find plenty of packing lists online, but here’s my personal list, adapted from a document sent to me by a friend.
Aside from your backcountry-specific gear, like skins, an avalanche beacon, shovel, and probe, make sure to pack extra batteries for your electronics (they tend to not last in the cold) and indoor booties, an overlooked but essential comfort. (Rab’s Hut Boots pack small and light but are tall enough to keep snow out.) You won’t need a winter sleeping bag—any hut worth visiting will have a woodstove to keep you toasty throughout the night. Instead, bring a 20-to-30-degree down bag, which will save room (and weight) in your pack. Earplugs to deal with snoring ski mates are an absolute necessity if you want to get any sleep at night; carry extra pairs and you’ll be everyone’s favorite. Finally, you’ll want to pick the right pack. Look for one with about 40 liters of volume that can compress smaller for use on day tours. I have a 45-liter backcountry ski–specific pack, but an airbag pack also works well.
How to Prepare
Once you’ve booked your hut trip, start training. Make sure you’re comfortable in your gear (you don’t want blisters) and hit the snow as much as you can—your trip will be much more enjoyable if you’re not wrecked at the end of each day. If you’re not close to the mountains, focus on leg and core exercises, and mix in a little cardio (preferably with resistance) for the trek in. Also keep an eye on the forecast. If you booked a hut in Colorado, for example, look at the CAIC website and avalanche forecasts as often as possible, especially in the weeks before your trip, to have a good idea of the range of conditions.
How to Start Birding Everywhere You Go
A few tips to help you incorporate this lifelong hobby into your everyday excursions
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My curiosity for birding began when I led backpacking trips at an outdoor-education school in Australia’s Victorian Alps. For the first time in my life, I was trekking on a new continent to the chorus of squawking budgerigars and laughing kookaburras, witnessing enormous emus sip from billabongs in the dense eucalyptus bush.
When I returned to Colorado for college a year later, I realized just how much I’d been missing out on. In the years since, I’ve learned to incorporate the hobby as a fun aside on every adventure. Here are some simple ways to become a part-time birder.
Start Paying Attention
Before adding bird-watching to your next adventure, take a little time to open your world to the species in your area. Notice them on your commute to work, your evening stroll, or just as you gaze out your window. In your spare time, start flipping through regional guides, like Sibley Birds East or West (each $19.95), to begin familiarizing yourself with the species near you and in your favorite parks or wilderness areas. The Audubon Society’s national website also has an extensive selection of articles for beginner birders.
My education was through Jason Ward’s documentary web series Birds of North America, on Topic, where the Audubon apprentice and naturalist explores city parks and birding hot spots with notable guests like novelist Jonathan Franzen and actor Lili Taylor. Each short episode is fun, digestible, and educational in the way it introduces viewers to techniques and offers information on how to apply birding to your lifestyle.
Local chapters of the Audubon Society and the Feminist Bird Club also organize free walks in communities across the country that will give you some experience before you head out into the field alone.
Download These Free Apps
Now that you have a sense of what birding is all about, download the Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s free Merlin Bird ID app and load your local “bird pack”—a digital guide to the birds of your area. The app asks you where you saw a bird, how big it was, its main colors, and what it was doing when you saw it. To reticent friends, I’ve described it as the avian version of Pokédex for a Pokémon Go–like scavenger hunt.
If you’re interested in logging your sightings, eBird, a companion app to Merlin by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, allows users to track species they’ve seen by location. The data collected and entered into the app is then made available for scientific research, education, and conservation, essentially turning eBirders into amateur wildlife biologists.
Toss a Pair of Binoculars in Your Pack
Birding in its simplest form, unlike many adventure sports, is relatively free of gear, making it a great complementary activity. To enhance the experience, though, it’d be worth investing in a good pair of binoculars. While they can range in price from $30 to a few grand, there’s no need to break the bank here. Look for a decently priced, quality pair, like the Nikon Prostaff 3S ($120).
Bird-Watch When There’s Downtime
Perhaps you’ve pulled into camp earlier than expected and have a few spare hours before cooking dinner—go look for birds! Maybe your friends are setting up a climb in Joshua Tree National Park, and you’re left without a task. Go on a mini birding walk; there could be loggerhead shrikes skewering lizards on a Joshua tree. Maybe your hiking partner is digging a cathole off-trail. Put down your pack, bust out those binos, and check for upland birds in the evergreens, where there could be a sooty grouse in the blue spruce. Or maybe you’re taking a breather after a long session of kiteboarding. Walk along the beach; there could be snowy plovers hunkered in the sand dunes. Whatever you’re doing, use your idle time to explore.
Be Proud of Your Sightings
The magic of birding is that it can give your adventures new meaning—you may have been stormed off a snowy peak in New Hampshire’s White Mountains, but you saw a Vatican of northern cardinals scurrying around a jack pine. It’s a simple way to engage more with your surroundings.
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