Returning to My Raíces

por Luisa Vargas

I remember when the summers I spent in Colombia on my grandparent’s farm only required some old rubber boots to keep our feet dry. The moment breakfast was over, we ran out of the house in jeans and cotton sweatshirts, staying out until the sun began to set. We climbed trees and roamed fields, but I couldn’t tell you what we did that took up eight hours of our day. We did this for three months straight and we never got bored.

We didn’t need waterproof hiking shoes, technical pants, or protein bars to fuel our adventures. All we needed were those feijoa fruit trees to pluck off an afternoon snack and the wool ruanas my grandma would have ready for us the moment a breeze started to pick up. 

I remember the camping trips to the Everglades my parents would take us on. We’d pack up inflatable mattresses, frozen arepas, and a few hand-me-down bikes for what I thought was the most exciting weekend of the year. We used the same inflatable mattresses we slept on the first few months of our life in the United States. On special trips, we’d stop at a smoothie shop called Robert is Here on our way to the park, and I can’t think of a time I was happier.

We didn’t need ultralight sleeping pads, down sleeping bags, the latest model of carbon-fiber bikes, or freeze-dried meals to have an epic adventure. The things we brought were familiar, comfortable, and inexpensive. Most importantly, they were all things we had at home which made saying yes to exploring so much easier for our family of four.

I remember when I first started running around my neighborhood in high school. I ran in cotton t-shirts from school-sponsored events, my favorite sneakers were the ones with holes in them, and I didn’t track how fast or far I ran. I started running because my feelings were overwhelming and it was the only time I felt like I could quiet down my thoughts. Most importantly, I didn’t have to ask my parents to pay for a class or a membership to a gym. It was one of the few things I could do independently.

I didn’t need the latest running app, technical gear, or a goal. All I needed was the pure joy of moving my body, a safe neighborhood, and something to cover my feet. It became a daily ritual, rain or shine, to listen to my steps and connect with the ground beneath my feet. 

I don’t remember when I started thinking I needed specific gear to enjoy time in nature. Up until I was 14 years old, going outdoors meant the most humble activity. It required nothing more than the necessities we already owned and taking a step out the door. As time passed, I grew into a world that sold me things to go outside and suddenly I began limiting what I thought I could do.

I don’t remember when “outdoors” became an industry. The outdoors is no longer a place, but an idea. “Going outdoors”, “being outdoorsy”, and “enjoying the outdoors”, have become phrases to encompass more than just being outside, but a set of activities you must do in a certain way and with certain things. It has become a box and with boxes come inequalities. 

Access to public lands disproportionately affects people of color. In Texas, my home state, 95% of land is privately owned, limiting the amount of green spaces available for those who do not own land. Access to parks and green spaces is significantly more difficult for people who don’t own a car. Language barriers can also be a limiting factor for Latine communities getting outdoors. 

Remembering my past has become a tool of empowerment, proof that the outdoors is a place that we get to experience however we feel called to. It doesn’t take much and it doesn’t matter what you choose to do—roam fields, camp, run, paint in a park, or exchange chisme in your backyard—as long as you do it outside, it counts as being outdoors. 

This year, Latino Outdoors is making an intentional effort to honor our raíces. As I began thinking about my own story and roots, I noticed how intertwined they are. Unknowingly, I’ve been reaching for opportunities and a community that carries those same ideas. LO is transforming the outdoors into a place to share and celebrate stories, knowledge, and culture. Little did I know that the little girl roaming fields in Colombia was already doing that. My work as an adult would not only be about sprouting leaves but it would be largely dedicated to digging deep and honoring my raíces with a community by my side.


No Woman Left Behind

por Maricruz Zarate

I love how the phrase Yo Cuento is ambiguous and can take on several meanings. It can mean “I tell a story”, but it can also mean “I count” or “I matter”.  The latter stands out to me the most because, for a long time, I didn’t think I mattered in the outdoors. I don’t look like your average outdoor enthusiast, and it wasn’t until about six years ago when I discovered the beauty of nature and my passion for hiking and building community. 

I was never exposed to the outdoors growing up and honestly, I didn’t think I belonged outdoors because of my size and inexperience. All that changed shortly after I moved to San Antonio, Texas. I went on my first guided hike at the gorgeous Friedrich Wilderness Park in 2018, and I was hooked! The peace I felt after the challenging hike was not what I expected. I was excited and eager to hike more and spend time in nature. So, my journey began. 

I looked up local hiking groups and found a few on Facebook and on Meetup. I joined a beginner’s hiking group. I was not in the best shape and hiking was new to me, but I felt safe going with “beginners” and I was excited to participate and immerse myself in nature. Unfortunately, I was left behind on this hike. I couldn’t keep pace and the small group of hikers I was with continued on without me. The lack of compassion and empathy I experienced was heartbreaking. It was very disappointing, but little did I know that this negative experience would ignite a passion in me and launch me into the most positive experience of my life so far. 

That moment motivated and inspired me to create a women’s hiking group, and not just any hiking group, but a group that would include plus-size women like me. I didn’t know what to expect, but I hoped that women would join me. I had always thought of myself as a follower, so this was way outside of my comfort zone. I was nervous and hesitant, but I felt in my heart that I could not be the only one who had been made to feel excluded in the outdoors. It couldn’t just be me. So, I took a leap of faith and created my first hike on Meetup.com. At first, I’d have small groups of women, but over the next few months, the group began to grow and ladies of all ages, shapes, and sizes started joining me outdoors. 

I started the group over 5 years ago and it has grown to be more than I ever imagined. I’m thankful for the ladies who have come alongside me to help lead hikes all around San Antonio and the Texas Hill Country.  I’ve tried my best to model the values of compassion and empathy that I hold dear, as a reminder that the group’s focus is not on speed or distance; rather, the heart of the group lies in connection and growth. As a result, there is a sense of solidarity that emanates from our core principle – NO WOMAN LEFT BEHIND. I believe this promise gives each of us the courage to step outside our comfort zone and the freedom to be our most authentic selves. It connects us with women who want to build each other up, rather than race each other to the finish line. With a shared sense of unity, our group has grown from a hiking group into a sisterhood. 

Through the years many friendships have been cultivated and lives have been changed for the better, including my own! Starting this group has stretched me in ways I never expected. It’s caused me to step out of my comfort zone and challenged me numerous times. This so-called follower is now a leader. My eyes have been opened to the importance of community, and it’s inspired and helped me grow in other areas of my life. I’ve had numerous ladies tell me how the group has changed their lives. With every cuento they share, my heart overflows with joy and reminds me how much yocuento and how every woman who hikes with us does too. 


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