Southern Indiana Trails

Maybe we’re biased, but we like to think outdoor gear companies are changing the world in ways that far surpass the size of their business. The outdoor industry is full of adventurers who are passionate about playing hard in nature and working hard to protect it. And you can bet the people who work at these brands are talking to one another. They meet up at industry events, and they ski, climb, hike, camp, paddle, and practice yoga with another, trading intel about threats our public lands face and trying to figure out what they can do about it. Many of these companies’ leaders directly and indirectly push each other to set and meet challenging goals for getting plastic out of shipping, making their designs more eco-friendly, or rallying customers to advocate for public policy change. And as they influence one another to make their businesses better, they influence us to make better choices, too. Of course, the ultimate sustainability move is to not make anything at all. Making mo...

While everyone else is scrambling to get a coveted campsite in state and national parks across the country this summer, there’s a whole bunch of public land that’s open (and free!) for you to enjoy. The federal government owns over a quarter of our nation’s landmass—more than 640 million acres—and a good chunk of that is available for you to use and enjoy and, importantly, take care of. Free camping in these spaces usually equates to dispersed camping, which means camping outside of designated campgrounds. You can pitch a tent or park your van overnight on grounds managed by the U.S. Forest Service or the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), in places where dispersed camping is permitted. We’ve included that style of camping here, whenever possible. In some states, we’ve highlighted free, primitive campgrounds—developed sites with minimal amenities that don’t require reservations. And in the few cases of states with little to no free or dispersed camping, we’ve included remote, qui...

This feature by award-winning author Jeff Jackson first appeared in Rock and Ice , July 2020. I one-fell my Ultimate Project on a Saturday. A few days later, Michael Victorino, the mayor of Maui, issued the stay-at-home order about to take effect. I had cruised the first nine bolts and gotten to the rest fresh enough to trade out in the horizontal and think, This could be it. I might finally send . I released the foot jam and swung like a tamarin, stabbed my toe at the shoulder-level horn out right and stuck it, locked down and grabbed a little sloping edge no bigger than a pencil and greasy as a Schüblig sausage. Boned up, flagged hard and started to cross when my fingers snapped off the edge and I plunged through the gulf, arms whirling, machine-gunning expletives, ungainly as a dodo bird. After boinking, I pulled on without resting and sent the route to the top. Uncle Chris Janiszewski lowered me, and we bumped fists (remember bumping fists?). “Next go,” he said. And then: P...

A long (or even short) hike into the backcountry deserves better than mushy noodles or canned beans. Thankfully, here at Outside, we’ve tried a wide range of backpacking meals and dishes—here are our favorites. Chili mac is one of my staples for short trips. It requires only two ingredients: canned chili and a box of macaroni and cheese. Fire up your portable stove, cook the pasta, and dump the chili and cheese into the noodles for total carb heaven. —Kelly Klein, associate gear editor When I’m feeling fancy, I like to make burritos. The ingredients can be a little heavy, but it’s worth it. I usually sauté presliced peppers and onions, melt cheese on a big tortilla, and pile on refried beans, rehydrated Spanish rice, avocado, and hot sauce. —Abigail Barronian, senior editor I’ve sampled many freeze-dried meals, and the vegetarian Backpacker’s Pantry Pad Thai is my favorite. The texture of the noodles holds up to rehydration, and the spicy sriracha-lime sauce is flavorful. I like ...

When I saw an old Griswold cast-iron skillet and lid at an estate sale in Santa Fe last summer, I didn’t quite know what to do. For a few minutes, I stood there like a log stuck in an eddy, running my hands over the robin’s-egg blue enamel. Customers jostled around me, headed for a table of crystal decanters. Did no one notice what I had just found? Someone notice! I knew Griswold was a sought-after name in vintage cast iron, a product of the early 1900s, back when things were made to last and before manufacturing was on an accelerated trend of faster and cheaper. But was this set worth $75? The non-enameled interior was rusty, the bottom scorched and chipped. Unsure whether I’d found an heirloom or an unusable waste of money, I wandered around for an hour with the skillet clutched to my chest like a carnival prize. Finally, I walked over to the register and paid. Several weeks later I found out it was worth upward of $1,000. My journey to cast-iron obsession began at a Target in 20...