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Category: Introductions to the Outdoors

De Cacería

por Felix Hernández

I remember my father taking our family on rides down the dirt roads in the southeast part of New Mexico. I can remember hearing the chirps of the quail and the sound of insects as we turned the corners and drove into the desert. There would be an abrupt stop at the end of the trail and we would get out and load our .22 rifles. We were rabbit hunting. This is where my father taught us to respect weapons, this is where he taught us to respect the wildlife and nature. This is where my love for the outdoors began.

By profession, I am a high school teacher and coach. I am also a parent and certified hunter ed instructor in the state of New Mexico. Like many of my peers, I am a second-generation immigrant because I was raised in the U.S., although I was born in Mexico. My background and experiences have given me a different outlook on what it means to be a person of color in the hunting community. My father would always share wonderful stories of him and relatives hunting the mountains of Oaxaca back home. He would tell of the struggles they faced as hunters with limited resources, relating challenges such as navigating through the wilderness without maps, or hunting without optics. Everyone gathers around and listens when my father tells and retells stories.

“My father would always share wonderful stories of him and relatives hunting the mountains of Oaxaca back home. He would tell of the struggles they faced as hunters with limited resources, relating challenges such as navigating through the wilderness without maps, or hunting without optics.”

As I grew up in New Mexico, I slowly realized that we were limited to one hunting area because it was a friend’s private land. We had permission to hunt that area, but I wanted to explore, and my dad didn’t have the knowledge of where and how to access public land. I wanted to see what else nature had to offer. I wanted to be able to hunt game in the forest. I realized that if I wanted to also tell my own stories like my father, I would need to find a way to hunt these public lands like everyone else. I was motivated, I was encouraged, and I had the drive. I took the time to educate myself on the rules and regulations in the state, and before I knew it we were all hunting public land. Of course, this was no overnight task. It has taken me years to learn about different units, weapons, restrictions, game, equipment, weather, terrain, and cooking game.

“I realized that if I wanted to also tell my own stories like my father, I would need to find a way to hunt these public lands like everyone else. I was motivated, I was encouraged, and I had the drive.”

The list continues and the learning continues. I created De Cacería back in 2017 because I felt that Latinos are underrepresented in the hunting community. Every hunt tells a story. I’ve found that no two hunts are the same. They might be similar but they are not the same. “De Cacería” directly translates into, “of hunting”. Everything is a product of that hunt. In your journey, you may experience, frustration, joy, defeat, exhaustion, triumph, success, failure, and the list goes on. All these experiences are a product of hunting. De Cacería was created to help the Latino/Hispanic community find something they can relate to in their own journey. The current study from US Fish and Wildlife shows that 3 percent of hunters are of the Latino/Hispanic descent. We are hoping to create a place where our people may feel more comfortable seeking information and or guidance in their journey. It has taken me some time to figure out all the pieces involved in this sport. If sharing our stories and journey can help motivate individuals to get outdoors, then we will gladly help out the community in every way we can.

Un Mar De Colores “One Ocean Touches All Shores”

por Mario Ordóñez-Calderón

The ocean is one of the biggest connectors we as humans have on this planet. An experience in the sea in any capacity can have an enormous impact- it has the power to embrace and humble, calm and empower. My love and understanding for the ocean came later in life. It was through the art of surfing that my perspective shifted, and I no longer viewed the ocean shore as the great divider but instead as the beginning of exploration and connection.

Learning to surf was every bit as challenging as it was exciting. Navigating crowds, learning how to read the waves, and understanding tides were all part of that process. Not to mention, fifteen stitches from a wipeout gone wrong can mentally and physically leave its mark. I kept paddling out despite the growing pains, becoming addicted to all the sensations that came with surfing. I loved the way my first duck dive into the cold water left me feeling cleansed of all stresses, the deep tranquility I found while sitting out in the line up and the flow state while cruising down the open face of a wave. Learning to surf helped me learn more about myself. I gained not only self-clarity, but also a community of fellow surfers who shared my passions in and out of the water.

“I recognized that I was lucky enough to have a friend already immersed in surf culture to help me feel comfortable out in the water. It was this reflection that prompted me to question how I could return that favor for other multicultural youth with a similar upbringing as mine”.

Mario Ordóñez-Calderón

I remember the moment when the idea of sharing my passion for surfing with others sparked. Two years ago, while loading up the car to surf I’d see my Guatemalan neighbor’s kids playing out front or getting ready for school. As I drove away to the beach –less than a mile down the street– I looked back through the rear view mirror and saw kids that reminded me of myself in my youth. I began to wonder why it was that I never saw that family heading to the beach.

This subtle observation sparked within me a series of questions to try and understand why I didn’t see more Latinos out in the water, even though the Latino population in San Diegos were so large. As I reflected on my own experience, I recognized that I was lucky enough to have a friend already immersed in surf culture to help me feel comfortable out in the water. It was this reflection that prompted me to question how I could return that favor for other multicultural youth with a similar upbringing as mine.

From that blossomed Un Mar De Colores. We are a nonprofit organization that bridges the socioeconomic gap in surfing by providing free surf lessons to children of color and underserved youth. The mission is simple: share the ocean, diversify the lineup, and inspire youth. We create a space that offers a safe, relevant, and inclusive presence within communities and neighborhoods that have historically not received equitable opportunities to experience the ocean and use their voice.

We want to drive home the message that the ocean does not discriminate, it welcomes all and provides a ‘sense of place’ no matter an individual’s circumstance or color. We hosted our first Surf Fiestas in the Summer of 2020 and have been working closely with a young group of local North County kids since. We choose to go deep with a select group of 10-15 kids under the age of 12 offering them one-on-one mentorship with primarily BIPOC surfers. A key element of Un Mar De Colores is the constant effort to inspire passion and purpose through play, encouraging participants to find direction in the world through the things that bring them joy. We truly believe something as simple as catching a wave has the opportunity to teach a child their greatest life lessons.

UMDC’s second (and just as important) mission is providing visibility into an already existing rich culture of people of color within the surfing community. Our media initiative called #RepresentationMatters highlights surfers/watermen/waterwomen of multicultural backgrounds in order to show the beauty of diversity in the ocean community. We strongly believe that representation in media has a powerful impact, and is a key component in the success of multicultural youth involvement and dedication to understand the ocean as their space, too. #RepresentationMatters has truly given us the ability to inspire through art. Most recently, we collaborated with Patagonia Cardiff and Santa Barbara based artist DJ Javier to create a mural called “The Beach is For All” on the side of their storefront. Un Mar De Colores is just as proud about our art scholarships in which we grant funding to several BIPOC artists throughout the year in order for them to create ocean/surf inspired art. Whether it be a painting, a surf film, or an illustration- we see the importance of promoting the connection between art, surf, and diversity.

Un Mar De Colores has been taking shape strongly over the past half a year, and it’s all thanks to the ongoing community support. It takes a village to change culture and cultivate a more inclusive surfing community for posterity, and as a non-profit we’ve gotten as far as we have because of the continuous support from our volunteers, friends/familia, and donors. At the end of the day, I’m filled with gratitude with the ability to have a positive ripple effect in the lives of others. The ocean gave me a sense of belonging. Living a life so interconnected with it has opened doors for me in just about every aspect of my life. Passing that along to others is a cherry on top. I’m looking forward to continuing to share this passion as we start to move things along for our 2021 program.

In addition to being a surfer and co-founder of Un Mar de Colores, Mario is a mountaineer, bikepacker, and much more. Get to know him through Cycle of Ancestry, a short film about Mario’s cultural heritage and love for the outdoors.

The Mountains We Share

por Felipe Vieyra

I share this story with the hope and intention that by doing so, our comunidades latinas (latino communities), that we start reclaiming the outdoor narrative here in the United States, and that more BIPOC folks lift up their stories and connection to the outdoors, we can inspire folks into action for those who want to build a more inclusive and diverse outdoor community.

I remember my dad sitting my brother, sister, and me down on our living room carpet, so excited to share a story about our abuelita. Our abuelita was going to be staying with us for a few years in our home in Fort Morgan, Colorado. Fort Morgan was a small agricultural town in the eastern plains of Colorado. My parents and I had immigrated to this cow-town in the early 90s from Mexico in the pursuit of our “American Dream”. We were excited to hear about our abuelita. I apparently met her when I was a baby but you hardly ever hold onto your early childhood memories so she was someone who I was barely getting to know but someone that held a special place in my father’s life. My siblings were born in Colorado so they would truly be meeting her for the first time.

Your abuelita grew up in the sierras of Michoacan. Our family had a ranch and I remember growing up on it and exploring the mountainsides with your uncles and aunts and your abuelito and abueltia my father would say. I could barely fathom how it must have been to grow up in the mountains of Michoacan. What a life! I exclaimed! It was a hard life but one with good food, hard work, family, and best of all, the mountains we shared my father responded with.

My abuelita would later share with me that they were forced to sell that ranch and that they eventually moved into the city in Morelia, Michoacan. Being newcomers to the United States, my family and I didn’t have much growing up. Both of my parents worked at the meatpacking plant in Fort Morgan and my father would often work overtime but what I could always count on when spring and summer would come would be our family trips up to Estes Park and Rocky Mountain National Park. It’s those trips and car rides that I nostalgically remember from my childhood. The band Sonora Dinamita music playing on the way there, the picnics we would have along the way, and then sitting down around the campfires sharing moments that we would never forget with each other. That was the connection we built as a family, that I built with the outdoors. While our family went through a lot with the US immigration system, our escape was the outdoors. Exploring the mountains and outdoors of Colorado brought us together.

My abuelita came, stayed with us, lived a long life alongside our family, and passed away while I was in college. She was buried right next to my abuelito in a beautiful rainbow grave in the mountains of Michoacan. While we got to enjoy the outdoors and explore the mountains as a family, I realized that there were so many other activities and ways in which we could enjoy the outdoors. I remember mostly white students skipping school to go snowboarding while I was in high school, it wasn’t a luxury I could afford because of cost, the need to do well in school so my parents sacrifices of coming to this country wasn’t in vain and also how far away we were living in the eastern plains and also the perception that it was something only white folks did. My siblings and I grew up. I went to college and it was the same in college. I didn’t get the chance to enjoy snowboarding, mountain biking, and backpacking in those four years at the University of Denver because of the cost, the lack of representation of BIPOC folks in those spaces that made me feel like I didn’t belong.

While I loved the outdoors, the mountains, all of it because of my experiences growing up, it was something that I couldn’t fully enjoy because of how expensive it cost sometimes to access the outdoors and also to often find yourself as the only person of color on the trails. This would get me in my head, trying to think of why I’m one of the few people of color who love backpacking. When I return from my trips, I always come back to the same thoughts:

  • Income Inequality (outdoor products are expensive)
  • The perception that only “White Folks” do these activities (lack of representative media)
  • NO major outdoor brands that create culturally relevant products (especially food products)

There comes a moment when you have to realize that the “system” wasn’t built to be inclusive and has extensive barriers in place that discourage black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC), would-be adventurers from participating in wilderness activities. You realize that you need to claim space and that the outdoors ARE for us to enjoy and share. I think of my abuelitos whenever I hit a trail and I think of my family’s joy in being in the outdoors together growing up. I hold onto those memories and remember who I love when I am out and about and if any form of doubt creeps into my head. I remind myself that these are mountains to be shared, mountains that my abuelita would have loved to have explored herself.

As BIPOC folks, we need to remind ourselves of who we love and remind ourselves that we belong in the outdoors. That these mountains are to be shared and that we should feel empowered to be the ones creating new outdoor gear brands, leading outdoor recreational organizations and excursions. We should be at the table demanding change. Felipe is originally from Morelia, Michoacán Mexico but has lived in Colorado since he was 4. He started lifting up his voice regarding educational inequity because of being an immigrant, man of color in school systems that were never meant for either identity.

Felipe is active in the Denver community by being involved with various different boards and commissions. He is currently the co-chair of the Young Latino Philanthropist, the Secretary of Colorado Peoples Alliance C3 board. He also coaches competitive soccer with Club C&C and loves volunteering his time to issues that he cares about and being outdoors and a co-founder of Oso Adventure Meals!