Donate

Tag: 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.

Gus sits in a red fire truck waving out the window.

For our Children…forever.

por Gustavo (Gus) Martínez

The mission of the National Park Service is perhaps one of the most noble statements memorialized in law “to conserve the scenery and the natural and historic objects and the wild life therein and to provide for the enjoyment of the same in such manner and by such means as will leave them unimpaired for the enjoyment of future generations”.

For over thirty years I have supported this mission and devoted my career to ensuring that these words translated into real action. Working in the Law Enforcement, Security and Emergency Services (LESES) program the focus was on public safety; Law Enforcement, Fire, Emergency Medical Services, Search and Rescue. My career took me to various stunning locations from the Santa Monica Mountains, the granite walls of Yosemite, the shores of Point Reyes National Seashore, the border lands of Big Bend and the barrier Islands of Padre Island. Eventually (at the urging of my wife Sylvia) we made it to Alaska at Glacier Bay. We returned to Yosemite for my final assignment as the Deputy Chief Ranger of LESES, were I reached the mandatory retirement age for emergency services. Now, I have since returned to Glacier Bay as the Safety, Health and Wellness officer for Southeast Alaska.

Gus and YLP Cohort. Photo by Sylvia Martínez

I was fortunate that there were teachers, mentors and counselors that helped me on my path. My high school biology teacher sparked my interest in ecology and camping. I studied with Dr. Roderick Nash at the University of California, Santa Barbara who helped me see my place in wilderness and how I can protect it. The Religious Studies courses with Dr. Inés Talamantez introduced me to the spiritual ways that Native American people revere the land and created in my young mind a new appreciation for open spaces and a sense of belonging. My career counselors guided me on my first opportunity to work with the National Park Service at the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area.

Outer Coast Grizzly. Photo by Sylvia Martínez

The National Park Service (NPS), then and now, struggles with becoming a true reflection of the demographics of this country. I was part of a cohort of students of color that were recruited in attempt to diversify the NPS. This led to what I now know as “micro-aggressions” directed at me from other NPS employees that saw me as competition for a coveted position which I was “taking” from them. Yet, there were other employees that supported the idea of diversity in the workplace and supported and mentored me early in my career. They understood that my success was an asset to the National Park Service. I was a hard worker and an eager learner, having grown up working in the fields of the San Joaquin Valley, I had a strong work ethic.

Gus y Sylvia at Yosemite National Park. Photo by Sylvia Martínez

“They understood that my success was an asset to the National Park Service. I was a hard worker and an eager learner, having grown up working in the fields of the San Joaquin Valley, I had a strong work ethic”.

Gus Martínez

Now, change is happening to the National Park Service. I would like to think that I have had a small part in this. I made the effort to outreach and share the mission of the National Park Service with people underserved communities. My efforts were mostly focused on bringing school groups and Police Explorer posts to the public lands I worked at. As I took on leadership roles in the agency, I challenged the supervisors that worked with me to be creative and use different hiring authorities to bring in more people of color to diversify our workforce. I started groups and events to create a sense of community and belonging. At Yosemite National Park I became actively involved in mentoring the students that participated in the U.C. Merced Yosemite Leadership Program. There has been some success, but the key is getting people of color to feel they are also a part of this mission of conservation and preservation.

I see groups like Latino Outdoors and Outdoor Afro as the link that was missing in my efforts. Recently, during Latino Conservation week I was gratified to see so many fellow Latino NPS staff post their pictures, proudly wearing the “grey and green” of the National Park Service. Thirty years ago, I couldn’t imagine seeing so many diverse, young, excited people working to advance the mission of the National Park Service. As my adopted Native brethren, the Huna Tlingit of Alaska, say “Haa Yatxee Jeeyis Aya, For our Children Forever”.