Is outdoor recreation good for the planet?
There’s no doubt that outdoor recreation can be a beautiful thing. People outside, in nature, moving their bodies, often surrounded by community—what’s not to love? From a human perspective, it’s hard to imagine anyone having a problem with that.
But Ross Reid, the brilliant mind behind Nerdy About Nature, just dropped a thought-provoking piece that asks a serious question: Is outdoor recreation a form of resource extraction?
If you identify as an outdoorsy person, this is a must-read. It’s a call to reflect on how we engage with the natural world and whether our love for the outdoors might be doing more harm than good.
I’ve been mulling over this topic for a while, and I’m thrilled someone as articulate as Ross took on the task of exploring it in depth. Below, I’ll summarize some key points from his article and share my own thoughts. But if this topic resonates with you, do yourself a favor and read Ross’s piece—it’s far more thorough and well-researched than anything I could write. And if you can, consider supporting Nerdy About Nature. This kind of work deserves it.
Outdoor recreation as extraction
Reid critically examines whether outdoor recreation—skiing, surfing, hiking, climbing, biking—is a form of resource extraction. He argues that these activities often prioritize personal enjoyment over ecological health, leading to environmental degradation and a lack of reciprocity with nature.
Even though being out in “nature” feels inherently good, we’re essentially using it as our personal playground. We take what we can for the sake of our fun, often competing with others in the process. Think about it: we all have that friend who needs to “rip that sick line” or the one who drags you out of bed at dawn for “first chair”—because you have to ski that pow before anyone else does.
These competitive, ego-driven pursuits are, as Reid puts it, a feature of late-stage capitalism:
“The same forces that drive us to selfishly pursue these activities are the same ones that drive bankers on Wall Street to buy low and sell high, real estate conglomerates to consolidate the marketplace, and the CEOs of big oil to lobby for more business and control the energy market. These forces are the hallmarks of Western civilization that shape our collective worldview.”
Reid also highlights a few more critical issues with the way we currently recreate:
Taking without giving: Outdoor recreation often involves extracting from nature—powder, waves, trail conditions—without giving anything back.
Environmental impact: The development of ski resorts, trails, and other infrastructure destroys habitats, disrupts ecosystems, and contributes to climate change. Frequent use degrades conditions for both humans and wildlife, with cumulative effects over time.
Rampant consumerism: The outdoor industry thrives on overconsumption, with frequent gear upgrades and reliance on materials derived from extractive industries.
Colonial legacy: Many (if not all) outdoor spaces are on stolen Indigenous lands, with place names and recreational practices erasing Indigenous histories and worldviews.
How to recreate responsibly
Reid doesn’t just point out the problems—he offers solutions. Here’s how we can start recreating with more care:
Respect: Acknowledge the history of the land, use Indigenous place names, and respect local communities and ecosystems. No speeding through towns, trying to get first tracks.
Reciprocity: Support local businesses, volunteer for conservation efforts, and advocate for environmental protection. If you make time to play on the trails, make the time to work on them.
Relationship: Build deeper connections with nature by practicing gratitude, asking permission, and engaging with outdoor spaces beyond just recreational use. Instead of chasing “big lines” and wild adventures, try a more mindful approach—walk in the woods, pay attention to all that exists, and appreciate the space as more than a playground.
Restoration: Shift from extractive to restorative practices, ensuring that outdoor activities contribute to the health of ecosystems and communities. After a week of surfing, spend a morning cleaning up trash on the beach. After a month of hiking, sign up for a volunteer reforestation project. Give back to the places that give you so much.
Part of the problem, part of the solution
First, I need to acknowledge that I’m part of the problem. I love playing outside, but I don’t do enough to give back to the places that bring me so much joy. And let’s be honest—why do I feel the need to chase these big, wild adventures? Why did I bike across New Zealand? Why was I driven to climb massive peaks like Cotopaxi and Kilimanjaro, which are home to fragile ecosystems?
Part of it is that I genuinely love being outdoors for long stretches of time. I thrive on challenging my body and mind, moving through wild spaces, and connecting with the incredible people I meet along the way—people who share my values and love for the natural world. And, of course, there’s the undeniable beauty of these places. Who wouldn’t want to experience that?
But let’s not kid ourselves—there’s ego involved, too. Even if it’s subconscious, I like being able to say I climbed that mountain or biked across that country. It reinforces my identity as a fit, adventurous, outdoorsy person. I’m not proud of it, but it’s true.
So, yeah, I’ve got work to do. I’ll use Ross Reid’s guide as a blueprint to reframe my relationship with the outdoors. But I also want to make one thing clear:
Outdoor recreation is a gateway to caring about the planet.
I truly believe that the more people engage with natural spaces, the more they’ll care about them—and the more willing they’ll be to learn about human impact on climate change.
Inviting more people to experience the outdoors is a damn good thing. And if we take Reid’s suggestions to heart—building respect, reciprocity, and relationship with the land—we could create a culture where more people live in harmony with ecosystems, tread lightly, and advocate for climate solutions. We need all the help we can get.
How we can move forward
Here’s how I think we can start shifting the culture of outdoor recreation:
1. Ditch the exclusivity and elitism
Let’s get rid of the exclusive, elitist vibe that often surrounds outdoor culture. Be kind, inclusive, and welcoming. No more chewing out the newbie in the surf lineup. Learning curves are intimidating enough without gatekeeping. Teach people, learn from people, and don’t gatekeep these spaces. We need to make the outdoors more accessible to everyone, especially those outside the white, upper-class demographic. The more people experience nature in a reciprocal way, the more they’ll care about protecting it. Representation matters, too—let’s highlight more diverse voices in outdoor culture, film, and media. People like Malik Martin are leading the way, and we need more of that.
2. Stop making it about competition
Outdoor recreation shouldn’t be about who’s the fastest, who’s got the best gear, or who’s ripping the gnarliest lines. It’s about getting outside, connecting with the land, and breaking down the divide between humans and “nature”—because we are nature. Separating ourselves from it is part of the problem. Not every adventure has to be epic. Go for a walk in the woods. Play outside with your friends, and make new ones. Tread lightly and appreciate the small moments. It’s not “cool” anymore to be the person decked out in high-tech gear, riding way too fast through a trail crossing. Even if your clique thinks it’s sick, it’s not.
This point is one I love about Vermont, the state I call home. I’ve lived in both Burlington, Vermont, and Summit County, Colorado—right up in the mountains. I love both places. But I’ve noticed a stark difference in the way people recreate.
Colorado has the Rockies—bigger, more intense mountains. With that comes people who are there to prove something to themselves and others. There’s a ski bro culture that’s hard to escape. Heading into the weekend, people would often say to me, “Yo, I’m going to shred this crazy ski line on Saturday. You can come if you wanna tag along.” It’s always about the intensity of the adventure, it’s often centered on the individual, and it’s competitive.
Vermont has the Greens—small and accessible. My outdoor community in Vermont feels easy. On Thursday, I receive group texts asking how we want to come together to enjoy our outdoor spaces. “Hey, let’s hang out Saturday! How about we go for a gravel bike ride together with friends? We’ll start right from our doors—no cars needed. Definitely grab some food after.” There’s less competition in the air, and adventures are meant to be shared.
I hope I don’t offend anyone from the West! This is certainly not a blanket statement. I know there are beautiful, community-oriented folks all over. But I do believe this: the gnarlier the terrain, the more ego and individualism involved. We can all strive to bring competition down, chill out a bit, and enjoy spaces together.
3. Give back—and make it fun
Giving back should be as much a part of outdoor culture as the adventures themselves. You surf? Organize beach cleanups. You bike and hike? Join trail maintenance days or reforestation projects—and make them as fun as a day on the slopes or in the water. Get stoked, turn it into a community hang, and celebrate with a beer or two afterward, locally. It’s no different than après-ski or post-surf tacos. Let’s normalize giving back as a core part of the outdoor lifestyle.
4. Go human-powered (or go home)
Okay, this isn’t a hard stance. I get it. Some people love downhilling (skis, bikes, whatever). And I also realize this touches on accessibility. I understand that lifts help people with disabilities and others who don’t have the physical fitness to get up the hill on their own. I’m a big fan of e-bikes for this same reason. As long as you’re willing to work in harmony with nature, I think everyone should get to experience trails. That said, whenever possible, choose human-powered adventures over lift-assisted ones. Avoid the big ski resorts and their environmental toll. Ride trail systems that don’t rely on lifts—bike up, bike down. If you’ve been resort skiing your whole life, consider investing in a second-hand backcountry setup (sell those resort skis!) and get educated on backcountry terrain. Skin up, ski down, and leave the lifts behind. Bonus: a backcountry setup can be way cheaper than an Epic Pass. No excuses. If you can’t go without downhill laps occasionally, get a pass from a local, family-run mountain and support your community. Avoid supporting big resorts that clear forests, treat employees poorly, and prioritize profit over planet (looking at you, Vail).
5. Practice utmost respect
Ross covers this thoroughly, but I want to reiterate the point. Respect the land, the communities, and the legacy of the places you visit. Follow Leave No Trace principles. Get to know the locals and ask how you can help keep their wild spaces clean and protected. Pay attention to Indigenous histories and place names. Show gratitude for the access we have and the beauty we’re able to experience.
Final thoughts
Outdoor recreation doesn’t have to be extractive. It can be a force for good—a way to connect people to the planet and inspire them to protect it. But it’s on us to make that shift. Let’s ditch the ego, embrace inclusivity, and prioritize reciprocity. The outdoors is for everyone, and it’s up to us to ensure it stays that way—for the planet, for the communities, and for the future.