Being an Outdoors Enthusiast During a Global Pandemic

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“Getting outside is the best thing you could do right now!”

Since COVID-19 hit the United States in March, I’ve heard this sentiment more times than I can count. I imagine all of you who spend a good amount of time outdoors can relate. People are grasping at whatever they can say to try to exude positivity, which is commendable and appreciated in a year when every day is a terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-day, endlessly; so why is this statement ringing hollow for me? Rather than feeling encouraged by this thought, I feel beaten over the head with it. I know they’re right, technically. Hiking (or biking or whatever your poison is) has got to be the best possible activity you can partake in during a worldwide pandemic; you’re in the open air and out of the recycled oxygen of your apartment, maybe you’re more secluded from people, and you’re escaping your head. Time outside has been invaluable for improving my life physically, mentally, and spiritually. So why does this statement feel like it’s lording over me, punishing me, blackmailing me?

A handful of studies have been conducted this year, using various methods and sample sizes but ultimately all coming to the same conclusion that an extraordinary amount of people have begun experiencing depression since the pandemic began:

In this survey study that included 1441 respondents from during the COVID-19 pandemic and 5065 respondents from before the pandemic, depression symptom prevalence was more than 3-fold higher during the COVID-19 pandemic than before. Lower income, having less than $5000 in savings, and having exposure to more stressors were associated with greater risk of depression symptoms during COVID-19.
– Prevalence of Depression Symptoms in US Adults Before and During the COVID-19 Pandemic, JAMA Network

One in five people appeared to have depressive symptoms compared with one in ten before the pandemic. The conclusions are based on a survey of more than 3,500 adults followed up over a 12-month period.
– Depression doubles during the coronavirus pandemic, BBC

It’s not hard to understand why, with dozens of factors interrupting all of our lifestyles. The COVID-related changes like social distancing and isolation, our favorite haunts and gathering places closing, job loss (which leads to health care loss), kids staying home from school and learning via Zoom, adults working from home and having to develop all new schedules and habits, businesses trying to keep up and changing their operating procedures, and god forbid, illness and death, are compounded by natural disasters like the fires on the West Coast and hurricanes in the South, plus total civil unrest as our current governmental administration blatantly sows the seeds of dissent and actively fights against the rights of it’s own people in increasingly abhorrent and confounding ways. In the words of Alfie Solomons, “you and I are both f*cked, mate”. 

But the world is always messed up, isn’t it? Especially over the last 4 years, as some of the more malicious aspects of our political system have come to light for those of us who may have been partially blinded to it before. So why, when getting outside used to be a respite and an avenue for healing and empowerment, does it now seem like such a daunting task? Why am I disinterested, when at every other time in my life, I would have looked to the wilderness as a salvation from whatever plagued me in the day-to-day? What about a literal plague has changed my mentality about the thing I love to do most?

The researchers I spoke with think that unlike something like a hurricane that passes through, this pandemic isn’t a one-time event. It’s not a single trauma. It’s actually brought on multiple traumas. There’s the constant stress and anxiety about the disease itself. Then there’s the impact on the health of those infected, those who’ve lost loved ones and just the record number of people who’ve lost jobs. So really, it’s an onslaught of many traumas….You know, the uncertainty of the future, not being able to resume normal life, not knowing when things will get better makes it really hard for people to recover. And while we’re all feeling the stress of the pandemic, the study finds that those who are at a higher risk of depression are those who started out with fewer social and financial resources. So for example, people with lower incomes were twice as likely to be depressed, and people who had less than 5,000 in savings were also more likely to be depressed.
– Pandemic’s Emotional Hammer Hits Hard, NPR

Read any social media lament about the curse of 2020, and obviously one thing that feels extraordinary is the amount of traumatic news happening all at once. Thankfully, I’ve seen a lot of gracious and encouraging comments online to the effect of, “Everything is difficult and uncertain right now. If you are being less productive than usual, if you are not crossing goals off your list, you are not lazy. We are in the middle of a global pandemic and an economic depression. You are not immune to these external influences. We are overloaded with more traumatizing information every single day. Everyone is coping differently. Go easy on yourself and if all you did today was get out of bed, celebrate that you’re getting by and moving forward”. This perspective is a huge relief. While we’re all so apart from each other, knowing that we’re going through similar experiences is comforting. It’s like looking at the moon and knowing that someone on the other side of the country is seeing the exact same thing at the same time; though so much else may separate you, you’re connected. 

Former First Lady Michelle Obama revealed last week that she is one of those people battling “low-grade depression,” and she has lots of company. One in three Americans is dealing with symptoms of stress or anxiety, according to data from the U.S. Census Bureau and the National Center for Health Statistics.
– Why depression, anxiety are prevalent during COVID-19, AMA

Laura Moulding, a 23-year-old recent graduate from Cardiff had this experience of struggling with worsening mental health over lockdown…Pre-COVID she found going outside and keeping busy by volunteering helped to clear her head. But over lockdown, she had “dark and intrusive thoughts…I’ve never known my depression feel this bad”.
– Depression doubles during coronavirus pandemic, BBC

Despite this, and despite the fact that we all realize depressive symptoms can include having little interest in things you once loved, I haven’t seen anyone share the same feeling I am having when it comes to getting outside. Instead, getting outside is listed as the cure more and more people are relying on this year, while I have shrunk away from it. The common suggestions to combat pandemic depression are always the same: set a schedule for yourself, do deep breathing exercises or yoga, do lots of walking or try some at-home exercises, connect with friends and family via Zoom or the phone, eat healthy, take some time away from social media, and get outside as much as possible. Good thing you like to hike, the wilderness is probably the safest place you could be right now!

I have been hiking and taking walks, but nowhere near the amount I normally would. Certainly not every day, or even every other day, sometimes not even every week. When I think about the prospect of it, I still get excited, but when the time comes, I can’t be bothered. What is wrong with me? 

Part of what draws me to hiking is the spontaneity and exploration, discovering the unknown. I want to go somewhere I’ve never been and see something I didn’t know existed. I want to test myself in terms of endurance and courage and scrappiness. I want to set out on a path uncertain what I’ll find, and end the day feeling accomplished that I was capable of taking care of myself in new territory, and that I have honorably earned the sights and sounds I stumbled upon because I was willing to be uncomfortable and brave. Within that, there is a delicious element of danger. I don’t consider myself an adrenaline junkie by any means; I prefer to avoid bears and extreme altitudes and any sort of situation you’d see in a climbing documentary. But I do enjoy measured risk to a certain extent, and I enjoy new information. But now, every day is already a path unknown.

This mindset is a privilege for those of us who are blessed not to have to deal with terrifying situations in every day life. I don’t have much money and I fall into that low-savings bracket described by the studies above, but I also don’t worry where my next meal is coming from. I don’t have abusive people around me. I am not worried that I’ll be gunned down by a racist cop. So far in my life, for the most part (despite being a women alone) I can pursue the unknown with a level of zen and a spirit of exploration because I am not already living in a state of fight-or-flight. 

Perhaps this constant state of unsettling upheaval that we are all experiencing now is enough to fill my cup with as much uncertainty and risk as I care to take, and also twisted those adjectives into dark and unsavory threats, whereas before they represented adventure and vitality. Perhaps I am bombarded with so much new information overload every day that opting outside, especially preparing for any new trails I haven’t done before, can feel like it might short circuit my nervous system. There is so much on the line for us all. I won’t be able to fully relax until a vaccine exists, but I won’t be able to relax even an iota until at least the outcome of the upcoming election is clear (and depending on that outcome, maybe never). The idea of pursuing a spirit of adventure right now, at least to the extent that I normally would, some days feels frivolous and forced, even irresponsible. Of course, once I’m out there, I enjoy it like always and everything melts away. I enjoy a simulation of freedom, though I know in the back of my mind that all of our freedoms are on the line, and up for a vote. Perhaps even some of the freedoms that have allowed me to solo hike anywhere in the world that I want without fear. 

Everyone says, ‘I feel exhausted right now.’ There’s a reason for that. And it’s totally OK because we’re all feeling it. Right now, we have our daily life stressors. Now, add on the pandemic. Going to the grocery store, whether you liked that or not pre-pandemic, now you go, it’s a sense of fight or flight, right? Just going to the grocery store. So we can’t even do a general daily activity like that without being worried or concerned for our safety. And human beings are not built to constantly be at a high state of stress. And what happens is we start to get exhausted.
– New Study Confirms What We All Feel: The Pandemic Is Making People Depressed, WWNO

Mental health is sensitive to traumatic events and their social and economic consequences. Previous studies on disruptions to life owing to disasters, epidemics, or civil unrest suggest that exposure to large-scale traumatic events are associated with increased burden of mental illness in the populations affected. For example, after September 11, 2001, 9.6% of Manhattan residents reported symptoms consistent with depression and 7.5% reported symptoms consistent with post-traumatic stress disorder. Residents living closer to the World Trade Centers had higher prevalence of mental illness. Similarly, after natural disasters, populations affected by hurricanes report an increase in symptoms consistent with mental illness. Increases in mental illness have also been documented after other epidemics, such as the Ebola virus and SARS outbreak. In addition, social disruptions in day-to-day living after civil unrest, for example, have been found to be associated with mental illness. Data from Hong Kong show greater levels of depression, anxiety, and psychological distress during the 2019 Hong Kong civil protests.
– Prevalence of Depression Symptoms in US Adults Before and During the COVID-19 Pandemic, JAMA Network

Inherent in outdoor activity and exploration is also the very practical need to travel. Today, flights, trains, busses, visitors centers, and even gas stations feel unsafe. Our National Parks are overcrowded. Zion has had to introduce a new shuttle system whereby visitors must reserve a ticket online in advance in order to use the public transportation to get around the Park; they tend to sell out pretty far in advance, and the shuttles are still overcrowded as people from all over the country gather together in one space. Yosemite closed on Thursday due to the wildfires and it’s unclear when they’ll reopen. Even before that, they had instituted an advance day pass reservation system to keep the Park at capacity as well, as did Rocky Mountain with their timed entry system.

The facilities at many Parks are closed. I’ve never been a big gift shop person, but when visiting a new place, I want the ability to see it all. I don’t want to visit now and find out that if I had only come a few months later once everything reopens instead, I could have gone to an archaeology museum or seen a presentation by a Native potter or an astrologist. I could have gleaned a better understanding of the Park. 

Checking AllTrails to try to find out if my favorite routes are overcrowded as everyone jumps at the chance to get outside their homes has become a new routine. When I’m on the trail and my pace is faster than someone, is it ok to pass them? Where’s my mask? Will they be mad if I pet their dog? Why are all these roads and gates closed, am I allowed to even be here? I haven’t been at a gym since they closed in March, my breathing is so strained. Or is it because we are getting some of that bad air quality coming down from California? Or am I short of breath because my nervous system is shot, my muscles are clenching and my chest is tight because the president said something scary this morning, again? These are small, goofy hangups and excuses I would never normally let get in the way of such a huge payoff, and yet somehow right now everything is annoying enough that I don’t even want to deal with the slightest inconveniences. Half the time I’d rather stay home. I don’t like this version of myself. I would usually view this behavior as weak.

Even when I want spontaneity (which I still do sometimes), this ain’t it. Perhaps the inability to be spontaneous has made me resigned to my fate. If you can’t do something for the foreseeable future, it can be better to just accept things for awhile rather than keep railing against your misfortune and trying to force it. If I tell myself it’s my own choice to avoid the big, wild adventures for now, and even start believing it, I can save myself. I can take respite in smaller things. I’ve exercised this strategy many times in my life, and recently found a word from South Korea that describes it perfectly: “sohwakhaeng,” small but certain moments of happiness. “Rather than obsessing over big milestones, younger Koreans are searching for sohwakhaeng. Whether that be indulging in a slice of cheesecake at your local bakery, writing a song or a book. Something that is small but wholly yours.” (BBC)

Then there’s the element of sharing one’s travels with the world, through an avenue like The Detour Effect. At this time, and probably for a long time, it is not advisable to listen to me or anyone else about what the “safe” or “right” way to travel is. If the health officials aren’t even totally sure, and keep releasing new guidelines all the time, what do I know? “Detours” are barely possible this year, and planning is also questionable. Any plans you make are liable to be fully cancelled, not just rerouted. At the end of the day, none of us have the faintest idea what’s going on, even when it comes to the things we are experts at. I’m as lost as anyone else. 

So when people suggest that I get back to my usual breakneck schedule of hiking every day, that I find solace in nature as if the entire world and all of the nature therein isn’t going to implode at any moment, I just feel empty. It’s an odd sensation, and out of character. Even having dug through the foggy and amorphous chambers of my brain in the process of writing this, trying to pull out some semblance of a logical reason why I might be feeling this way about hiking, I remain unsatisfied. As if I haven’t fully touched on The Point yet. As if it won’t be possible to understand until one day when we have hindsight and can reflect.

The good thing is, somehow despite my current indifference, I am also 110% confident that I will get back to it all. Backpacking is in my heart and in my bones, and in my mind every single day. The call gnaws at me and torments me as I push it down deeper, shelving the motivation for another time when it will make more sense to unleash it. The small decisions I make every day still point towards an eventual return. When I let myself dream of the future, which is rare, I see images of Black Valley and Drežnica. It’s not akin to giving up a hobby when life gets too busy. It’s more like giving up a life for the time being because that is the only way to protect it. 

If anyone else is feeling despondent or guilty about not being able to enjoy things right now, I hope seeing that someone else is feeling the same way is a comfort and a reminder that it doesn’t say anything about your commitment to Sparkle Motion (whatever that may be for you, whether it’s hiking or something else). I’m also fully aware that other people have it worse right now, or have always had it worse. My intention with this purge of a post is not to whine or complain that my life is interrupted. If anything, it’s a personal exercise to try and explore how current affairs could still impact an outdoors enthusiast psychologically, despite the fact that, let’s say it together, getting outside is the best thing you could do right now!

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