Donate

Category: Careers Outdoors

Harvesting Hue

Por Nidia Trejo

I am a Salvadoran-American who grew up in the vibrant city of Los Angeles. As a child, I loved color. I remember going to the L.A. Fashion District with my family to pick out fabrics for sewing projects, and watching my mom spend her evening hours with her rose garden. My life was a blend of textiles and petals, though I didn’t know how they would eventually connect.

When I started college at UC Davis, I had an open mind for science. I began to study the chemistry of colorants—one of my first projects was to dye various natural fabrics with red wines. For years, I felt like I was living in two different worlds. In a science lab as well as in a design studio.

Connecting art and science has been a challenge; both spheres are fueled by creativity, and they often compete in my mind for attention. Recently, I challenged myself to bridge the two worlds.

As a teaching artist at the Richmond Art Center, I created a new class called “Petal Power Art” bringing seasonal flowers into the studio for outdoor engagement. The flowers were provided by the Urban Tilth and the Cloverfield Farms located in the San Francisco East Bay (Richmond and El Sobrante, California). Students extracted pigments, directly, by pounding flowers onto cotton fabric and watercolor paper. We explored the colors from the petals, stem, and any leaves using mini-hammers, rollers, and our fingers.

During this time, my own feelings of stress and exhaustion were a barrier that challenged my access to the outdoors. I typically go on walks with my dog, but the new adventure for me was going into the outdoor spaces of local farms. I pushed through because I believed these “Petal Power Art” sessions would create a sense of calm, progress, and certainty.

It was also inspiring to learn about seasonal flowers. The people at the farms were appreciative of my presence, excited about my purpose and use of the flowers. Standing in the sunshine at the farms, seeing the butterflies, and engaging in Spanish with the people there, I felt a deep sense of belonging—a feeling that this is exactly what I was meant to be doing.

Initially, I worried that the seasonal shift from Fall to Winter would limit the flowers. We started with the bright yellow and orange Marigolds from Urban Tilth in Richmond. I soon realized nature’s inventory was much larger than I thought. During morning walks with my dog, I noticed purples and reds in my own neighborhood—Mexican Sage, Roses, and Hydrangeas.

My visits to Cloverfield Farms in El Sobrante were a lesson for trial and error. In the class we discovered that purple Cosmos and yellow Coreopsis gave brilliant, lasting colors. While some flowers, like Red Amaranth, Agave Zinnia, Anise Hyssop, were trickier to work with because they held more water than expected. These were lessons from nature.

Throughout the class, I connected to my heritage and science background. I pointed out which flowers were native to Mexico, Central America, and South America, connecting students to more places beyond the art studio with the stems in their hands. We talked about the chemistry of the colors — anthocyanins that create deep pinks to purples, as well as the carotenoids and flavonoids for vivid yellows and oranges.

We worked with smaller marigolds as the weeks got chillier, quickly learned to use several parts of the flower, and could extract beautiful color even seven days after a bloom was picked. The artworks from the classes were a blend of organic floral shapes, complimented by embroidery, drawing, and watercolors.

The art studio became a piece of nature, inviting us to take in the scent of the flowers, examine the pollen, and be mindful of any insects we needed to care for during the class. By bringing flowers from farms to the art studio, I showed that the outdoors isn’t a distant destination for both art and science.

Although it may be challenging to bring the art supplies into the outdoors, my future plans are to bring “Petal Power Art” sessions to the local farms and East Bay parks. See my ongoing work at my website, https://www.nidiaktrejo.com/.

Still Showing Up

Por Raúl Antonio Figueroa

I grew up far from snow.

I’m Mexican. My relationship with winter started late, awkwardly, and without any guarantees that it would make sense. Where I’m from, endurance sports look different. Cold is something you escape, not something you train inside. And biathlon, skiing hard and then trying to shoot accurately while your heart is trying to leave your chest, wasn’t exactly a common career path.

I found the sport almost by accident. What kept me wasn’t talent or early success, but curiosity and stubbornness. I liked how biathlon demanded two opposite things at the same time: intensity and calm. You can be strong and fast, but if your mind is loud, the targets won’t fall.

When Mexico officially joined the International Biathlon Union, it felt historic and fragile at the same time. We were stepping into a world that had decades of tradition, infrastructure, and expectations, none of which were built with us in mind. The first season was rough. We struggled. We learned quickly how unforgiving international sport can be. At one point, we were even sidelined for the rest of the season.

HOCHFILZEN, AUSTRIA – JANUARY 17: Raul Antonio Figueroa of Mexico in action during the Sprint at the FESA Alpencup Biathlon Hochfilzen on January 17, 2026 in Hochfilzen, Austria. (Photo by Benedikt Foidl/VOIGT)

That could have been the end of the story.

Instead, it became the beginning of a different relationship with sport. One built less on results and more on persistence. We came back. Quietly. Without guarantees. Just showing up again and again in places that didn’t quite look like home, but slowly started to feel familiar.

Living and training in the Alps as a Mexican has shaped the way I see performance. I’m always aware that I’m an outsider, and I’ve learned to see that as an advantage. When you don’t fit the mold, you stop trying to impress it. You focus on what actually matters: learning, adapting, staying curious, staying calm under pressure.

That mindset has followed me beyond racing. I’m an engineer and a digital lawyer by training, and a coach by practice. Different worlds, same lesson: clarity matters most when conditions are messy. Whether it’s snow, stress, or uncertainty, the work is the same, reduce noise, focus on the next action, keep moving.

Racing internationally has taken me to places I never imagined. Now, coming to race in the United States, and connecting with Latino Outdoors, feels especially meaningful. It’s a reminder that our stories don’t have to follow straight lines to belong somewhere. Representation doesn’t always look polished or predictable. Sometimes it looks like learning in public, failing, adjusting, and staying anyway.

Outdoor spaces, like high-performance environments, can feel intimidating if you don’t see yourself reflected in them. But they don’t belong to one culture, one passport, or one background. They belong to anyone willing to step into them with respect and patience.

I don’t race to prove that Mexicans belong in winter sports. I race because I enjoy the process of learning how to stay calm when things get hard. If that makes space for someone else to imagine themselves outdoors, in the cold, or in a place they didn’t think was “for them,” then that’s a victory that doesn’t show up on a results sheet.

Some journeys take the long way.
I’m still on mine.

Raúl is a Mexican biathlete, coach, engineer, and digital lawyer living and training in the Austrian Alps. He competes internationally with the Mexico Biathlon Team and works at the intersection of endurance sport, mental performance, and high-pressure decision-making. His work explores clarity, resilience, and learning through sport and outdoor experiences.

El primer 5.13 b encadenado por una mujer en Puerto Rico

Por Nina Medina

No todas las historias de escalada en Puerto Rico empiezan con un flechazo. A veces, como le pasó a Mariely Bonilla Viana de Carolina Puerto Rico (mejor conocida como Ely), todo comienza casi por accidente: una vecina que la lleva al gimnasio de escalada, una actividad escolar que parece un pasatiempo más.

“Me fue bien, mejor que al resto del grupo, pero no me enamoré del deporte en ese instante. Fue como ir al cine, una actividad más”, recuerda.

Lo suyo era el baile: ballet, jazz, hip hop. Incluso planeaba abrir una academia de baile con su hermana. Pero tras varios bloqueos en el escenario decidió dejarlo. La vida, sin embargo, le tenía otra prueba.
Un día, al llegar a una de las rutas más difíciles del gimnasio, un escalador musculoso la retó con una frase que marcaría su destino: “Si yo no pude, tú no vas a poder.” Mariely se subió… y la encadenó. “Con el orgullo en high pensé: ‘esto es lo que quiero hacer’.”

Rutas que nadie más quiere
Desde entonces, Mariely—una de las escaladoras boricuas más duras—se sintió atraída por rutas poco transitadas. “Lo bonito es descifrarlo por ti misma, no que te digan la beta.” Así llegó a Juana Díaz, donde un proyecto se convirtió en obsesión. Esta ruta se llama Duelo de Mitro. Grado sugerido 13 b. Encadenada por Ely el 10 de julio del 2025.

El reto no fue solo físico, sino mental. “Los agarres eran tan pequeños y dolorosos que los dedos quedaban casi en carne viva. Usaba tape, pero me resbalaba. Me obsesioné tanto que dejé pasar oportunidades, incluso viajes con mi pareja.”

El consejo de un amigo la sostuvo: “Tienes que seguir tratando, así es como eventualmente la vas a poder terminar.” Y tenía razón. Tras un descanso obligado, Ely regresó y finalmente encadenó la ruta, uno de los logros más importantes de la escalada deportiva en la isla.

El grito de victoria
El último movimiento fue pura concentración. “Me repetía: ‘la tienes, los pies están bien, la tienes’. Al llegar a la cadena, parte de mí dudaba que fuera real. Tuve que ver el video para confirmarlo.”
Lo que sí fue real: el grito de victoria. “De alegría aún no he llorado, pero de frustración, sí”, confiesa. Ely tiene el primer ascenso encadenando esta ruta y es la primera mujer boricua en lograr encadenar este grado de dificultad.

Inspirar a otras mujeres en la escalada
Mariely nunca pensó que algo fuera imposible. “Tal vez ahora no tengo la fuerza, pero eventualmente podré descifrarlo.” Esa mentalidad se convierte en ejemplo para otras.

“Mi logro puede motivar a mujeres cercanas a intentarlo. Muchos se intimidan por los grados, pero no es hasta que lo prueban que se dan cuenta que no es tan difícil.”

A las niñas que dan sus primeros pasos en la roca les dice:
👉 “Un paso a la vez. Siempre puedes volver y llegar más lejos. Y no te guardes tus miedos: decirlos en voz alta los convierte en una carga compartida.”

Este mensaje conecta con muchas mujeres que buscan espacios en la comunidad de escalada latina.

Escalar como espejo
Hoy trabaja un nuevo proyecto en la Cueva Corretjer en Ciales, Puerto Rico, una de las zonas más visitadas por quienes buscan rutas de escalada en Puerto Rico. Pero más allá de cadenas y grados, para ella la escalada es un espejo: “Es un constante redescubrir de qué estoy hecha y qué tan lejos puedo llegar.”

Nunca se sintió fuera de lugar en la comunidad, aunque al inicio había pocas mujeres. “El grupo con el que compartía siempre me alentaba. Decían que hacían falta más féminas. Llevo eso conmigo siempre.”

Más que un logro personal
En un país donde los deportes no convencionales rara vez ocupan portadas, y donde la violencia de género sigue siendo una herida social, la historia de Mariely resuena más allá de la roca. Cada encadene femenino es también un acto de resistencia, un recordatorio de que las mujeres en la escalada tienen espacio, voz y fuerza en cada pared que deciden subir.

Nina Medina natural del oeste de Puerto Rico. Apasionada de la escalada, el cuerpo y sus movimientos, escribe para visibilizar a mujeres y comunidades latinas en deportes no convencionales y salud preventiva. Su misión es contar historias que inspiren determinación, inclusión y amor por la naturaleza y nuestra capacidad de ser mejores seres humanos.