Guadalupe Pérez González, my maternal great-great-grandmother, was born in Querétaro, Mexico. Orphaned at a young age by the loss of her parents during the Mexican Revolution, she endured many hardships in life.
Guadalupe Pérez González in Fresno, California
Sometime around 1930, Guadalupe and her two children (Phillip and Mary) journeyed north to a border town called Mexicali, where they would remain for about twenty years. She labored hard over a stone stove top to produce tamales for sale and eventually purchased a humble home for herself and children.
Grandma Eleanor and siblings during a rest stop while travelling for work.
Mary married Leon Torres Ruiz, and gave birth to my grandma Eleanor in 1940. About 10 years later, my great-grandpa Leon moved the entire family to El Centro, California. They became migrant workers and labored at farms across California’s San Joaquin Valley, eventually making Fresno their permanent home.
My family came to the US in pursuit of a better life. From their journey, I have learned that the meaning of “a better life” is often incomplete unless it includes the process of (un)learning, healing, and growing.
Ruby prepares a meal with her Latino Outdoors team
So much of my cultural heritage was lost to assimilation. While this disconnection is a painful experience for me, nature supports me with feeling connected to myself, my history, and everything around me. Being involved with Latino Outdoors (LO) helps me reconnect to my culture and embrace my experience as a third-generation Mexican American. Through LO, I am learning about the many facets and richness of the Latinx identity.
Ruby with her three children in Humboldt County
I was twenty-seven years old when I left Fresno and made my own journey nearly five hundred miles north to Humboldt County. For six years, my three children and I lived there while I finished my undergraduate studies and tapped into the woman and mother that I wanted to be. Close to the end of my time in Humboldt, I shared with my grandma my experience of living away from home in the most beautiful landscape I’d ever seen. On that day, I learned that I was living her dream.
Ruby with her grandma Eleanor, mom, and daughters in Downtown Fresno
While in Humboldt, I slowly connected with barn swallows, Canadian geese, and snowy egrets as I observed them from my apartment window. Returning to Fresno was an adjustment; however, I do see snowy egrets passing over my home. They serve as a reminder that nature knows no bounds.
What’s Your Migration Path?
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Take yourself back to your childhood and recall a moment you spent in nature with your family.
I remember when I was young, during spring break, my mom would take my sisters and me on walks at the “Enchanted” Fern Dell Nature Trail a.k.a “Ferndell Nature Museum” at Griffith Park in Hollywood, California.
The trail was beautiful with towering trees, a natural spring that fed the waterfalls, lush green tropical ferns, and lots of flora popping out at you. We would look for magical creatures: turtles, koi fish and dragonflies. My sisters, Sarah, Sybil and I, would run around, laughing, playing hide and seek. I remember imagining fairies lived there. We even found our family dog, Sasha, while walking up the trail to the Observatory.
It’s actually one of the main things I remember doing with my mom.
This was one of few activities I looked forward to as a kid. With three little kids, my parents did not have a ton of money to spend on expensive activities, so walking it was. It’s actually one of the main things I remember doing with my mom.
I didn’t realize it then, but spending time outside with my family was one of the most powerful ways for us to connect to each other and make memories.
Now I know the incredible benefits of getting outside regularly, and with family. The great outdoors can bring you an overwhelming sense of peace and well-being. It increases creativity and overall joy. The best part of all? It’s FREE!
When you bring your family with you, you will all benefit.
Benefits of Getting Outside With Loved Ones
You will:
Find time and space to communicate with each other
Enjoy the little things and spend quality time together
When you get outside regularly, you increase your physical strength and stamina, reduce stress, improve your mood, and so much more.
So why not make it a goal for you and your family in the New Year?
The Goal: 52 Hikes In A Year
In 2014, I was looking for a worthwhile goal for myself. After falling in love with hiking, I decided to commit to a hike a week for the entire year.
Every week I looked forward to my next hike. I enjoyed packing a lunch and eating outside. I enjoyed enlisting my son and friends to join me. I enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment when I reached a summit.
It was life-changing, and I decided to share my 52 Hike Challenge idea with others. The idea took off and spread like wildfire. I now run this movement to help as many people gain the physical mental, spiritual and emotional benefits derived through nature and hiking. We’ve now had more than 41,000 people take the challenge.
With the New Year and a pandemic upon us, one of the best things we can do is commit to finding healthy ways to destress, find joy, and keep our families united. Hiking is a great way to do so, safely of course.
Challenge Yourself in 2021 – Commit to 52 Hikes
I want to challenge you to commit to getting out into nature once a week for a year. That’s 52 hikes in 52 weeks. Are you up to the challenge?
Commit to something that will help you enhance your physical and mental health, build stronger family bonds, and so much more.
Curious about getting started? Here’s what helped me stay committed to my goal:
5 Ways to Stay Committed to Your Outdoor Goal
Set your intention (what do you want to achieve?)
Share your goal with a loved one and your immediate family
Keep track of your progress (log your hikes and take pictures)
Join a community (engage with people who share the same goal)
Reward yourself (and your family) for your hard work!
Are you ready to experience the life changing benefits of 52 hikes?
You simply never know where this year-long adventure will take you, but one thing is for sure: you’ll make tons of amazing memories with your family.
Sign Up for the 52 Hike Challenge Now
So, what do you have to lose? Commit to making the outdoors a priority in your life. Sign up for the 52 Hike Challenge now!
Karla Amador is the co-founder of the 52 Hike Challenge, a global movement that has inspired hundreds of thousands of people around the world to get outdoors and take advantage of the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual benefits gained through hiking once a week for a year. Together, with the community she has created a culture of support, which can be seen in over 430,000 images shared under the #52HikeChallenge hashtags on Instagram alone.
Loalcanzamos? Loaded with meanings, this word stays with me, constantly. At every stage of my life, I’ve discovered different aspects of its significance, complexities unfolding as I ascend deeper and higher into the mountains. For this child of the sun, descendant of Filipino-Mexican immigrants and Spanish-Mexican settlers, alcanzar brings expectation and fear, together with possibility and reaching. Together, these meanings define me. Alcanzo lo que puedo. Sueño en posibilidades.
Expectation and Fear
Born in Santa Monica, California, I spent the first fifteen years of my life near the ocean. Surfing, biking, and swimming ruled my childhood in Playa del Rey, nearly as much as piano practice and extra homework. As my Tata reminded me once: “My little Danielle will be a great doctor or lawyer.” My father would have added “…or concert pianist.”
I’m not quite sure if the expectations on my young shoulders weighed heavier from the memory of recent immigration or our history as Californios. But expectation drove me to achieve in a way that I never questioned and appreciated only later in life. Expectation meant doing well, because no other option existed. It was for this reason that my mother had worked her summer breaks from UCSB in the grape fields. Inasmuch my father seemed to be established in Los Angelino culture, in our church, in our neighborhood, I sensed, deeply, the work he put in. Success wasn’t given: it was earned.
I remember the togetherness of our family’s experiences: annual trips to Mammoth or Big Bear showed me that car trips in the Cadillac could take us to wonderful places. Camping in the mountains of Southern California or gazing out the windows of Yosemite’s Awhawnee gave me a glimpse into a future I never expected I’d embrace.
When life took me to Fresno, in California’s Central Valley, I found adolescent solace in distance runs under the baking sun. I paddled for inner peace in the surf while attending the University of California, Santa Barbara (UCSB). I worked, tirelessly, to make lemonade from the lemons that life had given me.
When my maternal grandmother, who grew up in El Centro, CA, mocked the Castellano accent I’d picked up from studying abroad in Spain after my father’s death, I gazed at the palm trees rustling against an electric blue sky. I belonged out there, with the wind.
“The mountains have my heart, but the ocean owns my soul”.
Possibilities and Reaching
When I moved to Oregon for a competitive corporate job, I had two choices for recreation: volver al mar, a place I knew, or turn to the mountains. Nostalgia me llamó: the mountains held the secrets of my childhood, a happiness I hadn’t known for years. I bought a ski pass. I taught myself to snowboard. It was like surfing, a sport I’d known since 14. My employer had an indoor rock climbing gym; intimidated by the high-tech machines and former Olympic athletes found throughout the rest of the building, I went there to explore. The vertical realm intrigued me.
Six years and six countries later, an urge to explore the upper realm of lo posible has taken me to mountains like the Andes, Cascades, Coast Range, Rockies, Sierra Nevada, and Tetons. I’ve ticked off notable ascents (climbing) and descents (splitboarding aka backcountry snowboarding) not just for the sake of achievement, but often for something simpler. Joy and healing couple nicely with personal growth and empowerment.
My journey to climbing, together with hiking, camping, and snowboarding, didn’t just teach me that recreation could be a declaration of freedom. It was also an act of dissent, a rejection of a broader system and society that often tore me down and betrayed me. It was an assertion to my right for self-care and self-determination. Climbing and snowboarding didn’t just provide the happiness or empowerment many of us seek; they also gave me hope.
“Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”
Audre Lorde
The tiny spark of hope I found hiking on the trail, climbing at the crag, or snowboarding down steep snowy faces turned into something bigger. The fire inside me began to burn brighter, stronger. Si alcancé subir this mountain all by myself, what else could I do? Could I hike by myself, lead climb up a tower, or build a community that supported me, unequivocally, in all I do? Could I put my energy and time into things that really mattered to me, and build a career and life I love?
Mountains give me a lens to see the role choice plays in my life, every single day. From the results yielded by the hours put into training or the support I receive from the community I’ve cultivated, intention guides where my energy goes.
Out here, up here, life looks different, feels newer. I can see that we are just individual musical notes in a symphony beyond our comprehension. So I risk things: playing my own tune, finding my own key. I step out of my comfort zone, often, and find rewards I never thought possible. I risk failure, too, because I know there will always be a lesson.
My experiences in the backcountry have helped me find my truest self and start to realize my greatest potential—whether as an individual or member of a bigger community. This is the joy of embracing that I am part of this ecosystem; this is why I go outside.
En búsqueda de los límites de lo posible o ser parte de la vida que nos rodea: por eso, me voy afuera.
Dani Reyes-Acosta is a freelance brand strategist, educator, writer, and advocate redefining who plays outside and how we build community with others on this planet. She is also a splitboarder, climber, runner, and waterwoman partnering with several organizations to build a better future. Her work explores regenerative economies in the American West, how heritage and adversity inform identity, how inclusive marketing can pave the way to the future, and more. Learn more at DaniReyesAcosta.com.
