As the pandemic continues to unfold around us and we settle into a new routine, more people are turning to outdoor spaces to fill their time and serve as an outlet to combat the anxieties of the unknown. Photo by Rachel Veale.
I’m an avid lover of the outdoors. I’m lucky to live in Western North Carolina, where the sweet Blue Ridge Mountains and national forests surround me on all sides. Opportunities to hop onto trails and run rivers aren’t hard to find. In my normal schedule, I access public outdoor land at least five times a week, and I regularly encourage others to do the same. As the Coronavirus pandemic continues to unfold around us and the structures that fill our daily lives are put on hold, I’ve noticed more and more people are turning to outdoor spaces to fill their time and serve as an outlet to combat the anxieties of the unknown.
On a Saturday morning a few weeks ago, I was initially thrilled to see my local trailhead packed with vehicles as people chose to spend their day outside. And then the reality of the rate at which the Coronavirus was spreading—and what social distancing means—sunk into my town and other cities across the states. Conversations began to change among the various outdoor user communities in the area. Annual springtime sharing of trail running routes and camping plans shifted to a much bigger question in my community. How is the way we’re engaging with outdoor spaces right now impacting those around us?
As my awareness expanded and I learned more about engaging in the outdoors responsibly, I realized that my decisions have a direct impact on medical personnel, public land and the potential to spread the virus. It’s my social responsibility to be aware of these impacts and adjust the way that I engage with outdoor spaces accordingly. I’ve begun to shift the way I spend time outside and have challenged myself to get creative.
Here are a few ways how:
Outdoor Time Is Outdoor Time—Even On My Front Porch
Right now, I’m spending a lot more time sitting on my front porch sipping coffee in the morning and a lot less time running remote single track trails. And that’s okay. Outdoor time is outdoor time. My appreciation of the outdoor spaces right outside my front door has grown significantly, and I’ve been accessing them more than ever before. My front yard, back yard and neighborhood—all outdoor spaces that have historically taken second to the trailheads and national forests in my county—have now become spaces I access frequently. This week, I took a walk around my neighborhood and connected with a family who lives two houses down from me for the very first time. I’m realizing the potential connections that exist, both with the people and the land, right in my backyard.
Connections exist—both with the people and the land—right in our own backyards. Photo by Rachel Veale.
Notice the Small Things
My sense of appreciation for outdoor spaces has increased, too. As I’ve adjusted the intensity of runs or bike rides and practiced more conservative risk management, engaging in physical activities I know I can handle, my awareness of the natural world has increased. My housemate and I have taken to stopping multiple times on mellow rides when we see a spring perennial like bloodroot or wild violet, which is something I wouldn’t regularly notice if I’m racing down a trail at full-speed. With less attention focused on physically challenging my body, I’m opening up my other senses—smell, sight, touch—to engage in the outdoor spaces I frequent in new ways.
By engaging in the outdoor spaces you frequent in new ways, you may notice things you haven’t before. Photo by Rachel Veale
Dig Into Curiosity
As I’ve recently changed my routine, I’ve approached new hobbies that meet my need for outside time. I’ve picked up Braiding Sweetgrass—a beautiful compilation of essays on plant knowledge and Indigenous wisdom, and have started a journal specifically dedicated to what I’m learning about our planet. I’m starting to garden, too, and I’m actively learning about the land specific to the region I live in. It’s grounding me to my geographic region in an entirely new way, and I feel my connection with Western Appalachia growing as I learn about the natural world it encompasses.
I’ve also been taking the time to write every morning on my front porch. I’ve found this routine to be an intentional way to start each day, connecting me to myself and an outdoor space as I take time to dig into introspective exploration.
Pro tip: If you like guided prompts, I highly recommend The Isolation Journals.
It’s our responsibility to take care of the land we spend time in, navigating those spaces with intention and purpose because our planet is the only one we’ve got. Photo by Rachel Veale.
I’ve been thinking about a phrase I’ve heard often in outdoor communities—stewards of the land. As people who use outdoor spaces, it’s our responsibility to take care of the land we spend time in, navigating those spaces with intention and purpose because our planet is the only one we’ve got. As I’ve readjusted the way I engage with outdoor spaces, I’ve shifted that phrase to encompass something bigger. We’re stewards of each other. Though much remains outside of our control, something we can each control is showing up for each other and making responsible decisions that reflect our respect for the environment and the health of our society.
Though I’m looking forward to the day when I can go on a weekend backpacking trip in a new outdoor space with a group of friends, I’ll gladly sit on my front porch and soak up the spring sun in the meantime.
About the Author
Rachel Veale is an Instructor for the North Carolina Outward Bound School. With a degree in Electronic Media and Communication from Texas Tech University, Rachel thrives at the intersection of content creation and outdoor spaces. Her go-to road trip snack is black coffee and donut holes. When she isn’t on course, you can find her running down a trail in western NC or chasing golden hour with a camera in hand.
