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Tag: Latino Outdoors

I’m a Latina Trail Runner

por Candace Gonzales

My love for the outdoors comes from my parents and my family. When I was a child, my parents took me camping in the summer. We camped at a beautiful reservoir where I learned to swim and play in the water. My tios and primos camped with us along with our close family friends, and it was a wonderful way to grow up. My family would also spend countless hours in the summer in my grandfather’s garden picking peas and strawberries to eat straight off the vine. Not to mention in the fall when we would all gather at my grandparents’ house to roast and peel green chilies. Those memories I cherish, and I believe fostered in me a love for the outdoors.

Although being outdoors and being in nature was something that I was fortunate to be exposed to as a child, as a young adult, especially in my twenties, I got away from the outdoors. The busy city life called to me, and my goals became getting into my career and enjoying the city’s night scene—the partying, the friendships, and just living that fast city life. Late work nights, crazy weekends, and I did not make the outdoors a priority.

However, one priority I have always had is running. I have run most of my adult life. Thanks to my love for running, it’s what brought me back into the outdoors. In 2018, I stumbled upon trail running by signing up for a part road/trail race, the Turquoise Lake 20K in beautiful Leadville, Colorado. After that race, I knew that exploring trails and being in nature on trails was my new calling as a runner.

Of course, I answered this call and immediately started trail running on the local trails in the Denver metro area. I was addicted, and it was so much fun. Not to mention there is something very spiritual and healing about being in the outdoors. It has this way of allowing you to see all the beauty in the world. Although it was so beautiful to be out on the trail, one thing that stood out to me, especially in a community like Denver, where the Latinx population is the second-largest population, was the lack of diversity on the trails. I found this to be challenging. Challenging in the sense that when you are new to a sport, it can be intimidating, and when you don’t see anyone who looks like you enjoying it can feel a bit unwelcoming.

The outdoors should be welcoming to everyone. All humans should have the opportunity to experience the pure joy you get from running, hiking, or walking the trails with the sun shining on you and the mountains as views. The beauty of being outdoors and discovering nature is an experience all should have regardless of gender, class, race, age, sexuality, and nationality. For me, I recognize that I have a role in making the outdoors feel welcoming and that when I pull up to the trailhead rocking my Spanish music on full blast, that’s me saying I’m here, I’m Latina, I’m a trail runner, and I love the outdoors too. When other gente come to experience the trail, I want them to feel welcomed, and I want to help inspire younger generations to get outdoors and experience the outdoors.

That is why Latino Outdoors is such an important nonprofit and one that is close to my heart. The work that Latino Outdoors does to make the outdoors welcoming, from education, conservation, and just teaching people to love the outdoors, is so important. That is why this fall, I have chosen to use the sport I love (trail running) to help raise funds for Latino Outdoors. Just as I was fortunate to enjoy nature as a child, and I want our future generation to also be that fortunate. I believe Latino Outdoors is doing the grassroots work to make this happen. ¡Andale!

Candace Gonzales lives in Colorado’s front range. She is an avid trail runner who has complete various trail marathons, 30K trail runs, and 50K trail runs. She loves being outside and is a passionate supporter of Latino Outdoors.

Community Organizations Building Access to Backcountry

por Victoria Rodríguez

Over ten years ago I embarked on my first backpacking trip to Sykes Hot Springs in Big Sur. I was woefully unprepared for the grueling, 10-mile uphill battle in direct sunlight and what felt like 90-degree heat. I went with a girlfriend of mine, who shared my love of hot-springs, and I came only with a daypack and some bungee-cord, awkwardly securing my sleeping bag.

As unprepared as I was, I fell in love. It was so unlike any camping experience I’d ever had and I immediately knew I’d be back. And I was. I visited Sykes every year until the fires burned down the trail. I also began backpacking at least two to four times a year since then, either solo or with one or two friends; Sykes was an experience that really did open the floodgates for me.

What I had become staunchly aware of back then was the lack of diversity in the backcountry. Living in the Bay Area, I was surrounded by all groups of people – even while camping – but while backpacking two things became apparent: 1) It’s a man’s world and; 2) These men are usually white. Homogeneity is weird to me so I’ve dreamed of a world where these experiences are filled with different people with common goals.

Lost Coast Trail - cascading mountains along the pacific ocean cost

It was a few years ago when I went on a backpacking trip to the Lost Coast in Northern California. My friend Vero and I talked about how we were the only POC’s on the trail, and I’m a white-passing, Spanish-learning Latina. I had a dream a couple of days after this trip where I took a group of Latinx women out to Yosemite for their first backpacking experience and it was this that prompted me to reach out to Latino Outdoors to ask if I could volunteer.

Fast-forward to this past June, and my dream came true. My Program Director set me up with a couple of other LO Volunteers to help lead the outing and I couldn’t have asked for a more capable crew to learn from. This outing took *a lot* of planning, including weekly meetings, outreach, and outside partnerships, but LO had all the resources, we just had to reach out and grab them.

When all our hard work finally came to fruition, I found myself so thankful for everything I was given: incredible leadership partners, sweet + thoughtful + eager participants, and a dream that had become a reality. I’m not really sure how to articulate the emotions that passed through me. They can maybe be explained in moments like when we sat at the top of Mt. Hoffman, lovingly referred to as the Heart of Yosemite. One of our group members spoke of how she never even thought that backpacking could be for her; she never saw herself “in it”. It shocked me how perfectly her story fit in with the conception of this trip and her account brought most of us to tears.

Women swimming in lake at Yosemite campsite

So often members of my community are told they don’t belong in the backcountry, in more ways than one: the advertising that’s only now beginning to showcase diverse people in both ethnicity and sizing (sometimes I wonder…authentically?), the gatekeepers of the outdoors who can be completely uninviting and lack diversity themselves, the outdoor industry and its lack of diversity organizationally, and the sheer disparity of access. It was important for me to have this outing be women & non-binary identifying people-only because women and the queer community have more barriers to the backcountry. These barriers typically revolve around safety and an inequitable feeling of belonging, so I wanted to create a safe, supportive space where no one would feel embarrassed for not knowing something, or not having the “right gear”, and everyone would feel safe in numbers.

Women at trailhead in backpacking gear

I know this was a small group in relation to the whole, but I do feel the more we hold this space the more we are making change. However small that change may be, it was meaningful to this group of women.

Access to gear, transportation, permitting systems, and the like, can be huge barriers for this type of recreation, and we were able to provide all of it. None of our participants had been backpacking before, and they now have the knowledge to pitch a tent, pack their gear, choose which gear to leave home, filter water, and so on. Our trip wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot. We had a lot of learnings and areas for improvement, (like a system to organize and track the gear we borrowed, ughhh *face-palm*), but I think it’s radical that we’re even holding this space.

As I look back at our pictures through my lens as a marketer, I think to myself – These are the people that should be flooding our media, and they should have from the start. Working in the outdoor industry for most of my career, it’s my job to highlight these faces and their stories, and I plan to move forward with this intention as much as possible. Special thanks to Latino Outdoors, Yosemite NPS, Fresno BHC, Sandy Hernandez, Veronica Miranda, Araceli Hernandez, and Ruby Rodriguez for making this trip possible. Without you all, I’d be going on my backcountry trips, wishing for change – instead, you gave me the power to take action.

Original blog posted on Linkedin. Victoria was born in Los Angeles, CA, and grew up in both upstate New York and Southern California. Yearly camping trips to Yosemite while living in CA and lake cabins in the summer while in NY, ignited her passion for the outdoors. From there she moved to NorCal to attend San Francisco State University and continued to live in the Bay for over 16 years, while familiarizing herself with the local outdoor activities and cultivating a love for backpacking as the Bay Area is home to numerous backcountry recreation areas.

As a Latino Outdoors volunteer, Victoria aspires to bring more members of Latinx community into the outdoors to share her passion for backpacking and camping, all while educating on best practices for safety and conservation.

Connecting the Generations

por Marilyn López

I often think about my family trips to Guanajuato, Mexico. Growing up, my parents, younger brother, and I would make the 16-hour drive from Houston every summer to spend time with my paternal grandparents, aunt, and uncle.

We traversed las sierras de Tamaulipas into the low mountain ranges of San Luis Potosi until finally reaching the distinct clay brick and concrete houses del Cerro Gordo, Guanajuato.

This is where I learned to play in the dirt, developed a taste for nopales, and realized that different types of maíz existed (or as the saying goes, “sin maíz, no hay país”). My fondest memories include going grocery shopping with our colorful bolsas de mercado and stopping by la paletería y nevería afterward for a quick indulgence. Back en el rancho, I would help my tía y abuelita wash clothes outside by hand using la tabla, and then hang them up to dry. We would tend to the chickens, horses, and goats with the utmost love and care. Food never went to waste, and water was used wisely. I became aware of the human-nature relationship and our profound responsibility to preserving our environment.

These early childhood experiences in connection with physical and human geography, which were critical to my understanding of the self and the world around me, are only but recuerdos now. It has been 20 years since I last visited my second home. I’m now left to figure out: how do I build a connection for my 3-year-old daughter to the outdoors y con sus raíces mexicanas, when we live more than 2,500 miles away from family and nuestra Madre Patria?

“This is where I learned to play in the dirt, developed a taste for nopales, and realized that different types of maíz existed”

Marilyn López

As a second-generation Tejana through my mother, but first-generation Mexican American through my father, my Chicana identity was formed by way of having what Gloria Anzaldúa calls a “forked tongue” (the ability to speak Spanish and English), through the practice of cultural Catholicism, being raised in a predominantly Latino community, Tejano home cooking, and Mexican images and symbols plastered throughout our home. Thus my identity and resilience were so exquisitely preserved I never had a reason to question it, but for my daughter, who was born and is being raised in the Pacific Northwest, how do I build that same foundation? Because to me culture and nature are intertwined.

Our family’s journey in reconnecting with the outdoors and bridging that cultural and spiritual gap began by first recognizing that Latinxs remain significantly underrepresented in outdoor participation and the environmental movement’s leadership. Not to mention a report published by the Center for American Progress states that “people of color, families with children, and low-income communities are most likely to be deprived of the benefits that nature provides” (July 2020). With this in mind, my husband and I sought out local Seattle organizations and public events focused on connecting Latinx youth and their families to engaging and meaningful experiences in nature. The only ones we found intent on creating access and opportunity to these particular spaces were Latino Outdoors and Washington Trails Association (in partnership with LO).

“Our family’s journey in reconnecting with the outdoors and bridging that cultural and spiritual gap began by first recognizing that Latinxs remain significantly underrepresented in outdoor participation and the environmental movement’s leadership”.

Marilyn López

As a result of Washington’s COVID-19 social distancing measures, we’ve ventured outside more than usual. From bicycle rides in North Bend to camping in Olympia to trail hikes in Anacortes, my husband and I have been intentional about providing our daughter with rich opportunities to explore the outdoors. Children are already natural explorers, so our goal is to integrate nature and outdoor play into our daily lives. Since playgrounds have been temporarily closed, we started going on bicycle rides around our neighborhood in the evenings and going on family-friendly trail hikes on weekends. I started running regularly, and now my daughter enjoys running alongside me too.


Back in May, the Hispanic Access Foundation (HAF) released its 2nd Annual Congressional Toolkit and policy recommendations, where it noted that “recent polls have shown that Latinos care deeply about the environment, a sentiment that is rooted in a culture and history of taking care of the land for future generations.” As reflected in my own experiences, environmental stewardship and conservation are ingrained en nuestra cultura. For now, I want my daughter to grab puños de tierra, breathe in the reassuring smell of fresh pine, and engage in curious play, but ultimately, I hope to raise my daughter to be an environmental justice chingona who will embrace her abuelita knowledge and view the disruption of settler colonialism as a moral obligation.