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Tag: nature heals

Go. It Will Be Good For You

por Richard “Flaco” Flores

My mom passed away in 2021. We were very close, and losing her broke me. I went through a tough time: depression, loneliness – I felt I was in a deep hole with no way out. I had thought about doing the Tour du Mont Blanc (TMB) earlier that year – a 10-day hike through the French, Italian, and Swiss Alps – but hadn’t made any plans. I didn’t see how I could now, in the state that I was in. A close friend told me, “Flaco, go! It would be good for you.” Still unsure about it, I decided to do it. Last minute. Self-guided. Solo. Just me, my backpack, and a yearning to explore, a yearning to catch myself. I’m so happy I did.

I didn’t grow up hiking or in the outdoors. I grew up in Los Angeles – a concrete jungle. My family wasn’t particularly into nature, so there were no camping trips or hikes planned, not even to the nearby mountains. Possibly because my family had other things to worry about. The outdoors felt out of reach. It wasn’t until I moved to Portland, Oregon, that I started immersing myself in nature. A friend invited me along on hikes, and little by little, I developed an appreciation for it. But even then, I saw hiking mostly as an activity, a challenge, something to do with friends. I never saw it as healing. Not until the TMB.

On the third day of the hike, crossing into Italy over the Col de la Seigne, something happened that I wasn’t expecting. I reached the top of the climb and stopped. There was a huge valley, mountains on both sides as far as I could see. As I started the descent, taking one step in front of the other, immersing myself in all of it – suddenly, looking at the sprinkle of flowers here and there – deep emotions resurfaced. Feelings I’d been carrying for months.

I stopped. I knelt down. And I let some grief out. This huge, breathtaking valley, and I, grieving in the middle of it. It was one of the most healing experiences of my life. And I was able to continue lighter, brighter for the trail ahead.

Nature doesn’t judge. It doesn’t rush you. It just holds the space and lets you feel what you need to feel. That’s when I understood what my friend meant, that it would be good for me. This is what the trail does: it grounds you. It doesn’t fix anything. But it gives you something to hold on to, to stand on.

I finished the TMB ten days later. I walked back into Chamonix lighter than I’d left. Not because my problems had disappeared, they hadn’t. But because I’d been reminded that I was still capable. Still moving. Still here.

Since then, I’ve hiked the Alta Via 1 in the Italian Dolomites. This summer I’m doing the Walker’s Haute Route from Chamonix to Zermatt, fourteen days through the Swiss Alps.

I want to share my story to encourage people to get outdoors and experience nature. Because I want to be for someone else what my friend was for me. The voice that says: “Go. It will be good for you”

Nature always has your back. I’m living proof.

¡Vamos!

Richard “Flaco” Flores is a Latino hiker based in Portland, Oregon. He grew up in Los Angeles with no access to the outdoors and discovered hiking as an adult — and eventually as a lifeline. He documents his hikes on YouTube and Instagram at Andar con el Flaco, creating content for the Latino outdoor community in English and Spanish. This summer he’ll be doing the Walker’s Haute Route from Chamonix to Zermatt through the Swiss Alps.

A Homecoming in the Outdoors

por Nadia Rodríguez

Growing up in Queens, New York within a Latino immigrant family the closest I got to being outdoors was the neighborhood playground, along with occasional trips to Central and Flushing Meadow Park. These were short day trips that consisted of barbecues, lawn lounging, and sneaking over to the handball courts to crush on whatever dreamy boy was around. In essence, these were socializing opportunities and not necessarily moments designed to commune in nature.

the experience was torturous; my only escape was the woods.

My interest in the outdoors was originally ignited during a short residency I had in the Upstate New York area. I was 6 or 7 years old and was sent off to live in a now-defunct facility called the Asthmatic Children’s Foundation (ACF) for a year or so. Though my parents had the best intentions in placing me there, the experience was torturous; my only escape was the woods. Nestled in between a network of lush trees, mountains, and lakes stood an industrially designed single-story building where I was housed with other Brown and Black asthmatic city kids. We all had different issues acclimating to our new surroundings and reacted accordingly. Some acted out while others created alternative families with the other kids. I did a little of both, but I also made the surrounding woods my haven. I hid amongst the trees, ran in fields, caught tadpoles, and made up imaginary worlds to escape into. Once my parents recognized how unhappy I was living there, they pulled me out and brought me back home. I was happy to be back, but I missed the woods. I missed the feeling of being alone yet connected to something bigger than myself even if I didn’t recognize that feeling for what it was at the time. It wouldn’t be until my adult years that I would ever really get to visit the woods in the same way.

My interest in the outdoors was reignited by the promise of a trip to Alaska that did not end up panning out. And although I was unable to make it that far out into the Northwest, I was determined to make it as far out as I could. I reached out to a good friend who lived in Washington State and shared my plan with him. He offered me his support, a place to stay, and his company on my journey. So with that in mind I bought a ticket, trained weekly, and started collecting gear for my trip. To say that this experience changed my life would be an understatement—it was a homecoming. We ended up driving through and camping out on Mt. Rainier, hiking arbitrary trails that caught our fancy along the way. Everything up there felt magical, lush, and picturesque, like a postcard or state emblem come to life. I could taste the earth in the air.

Spending time outdoors is how I find peace and connection, not only to the Earth, but to my ancestors who lived off the Earth. It is my inheritance.

Every sight I saw, every moment experienced, I experienced with my heart in my throat and excitement pulsing through my veins. It was a spiritual awakening of sorts and I haven’t looked back since. Spending time outdoors is how I find peace and connection, not only to the Earth, but to my ancestors who lived off the Earth. It is my inheritance. The outdoors were and continue to be my sanctuary. As Frank Lloyd Wright said “I put a capital N on nature and call it my church.”

Nadia enjoys a homecoming at Mt. Rainier National Park.

Being in contact with nature has tremendous healing powers and it belongs to us all. Too often Brown and Black communities do not have the same access to outdoor spaces as white Americans do, and we lose touch with nature and our connection to it. It is imperative that we maintain our lineage to the Earth and allow ourselves to experience everything the outdoors has to offer when we have the opportunity to do so. My hope is that we continue to create more and more opportunities for ourselves and for our communities.

Nadia Rodriguez is a hiking/camping enthusiast from New York who takes special interest in social and environmental justice, and equity advocacy. She works for the National Audubon Society and contributes to the organization’s ED&I efforts. She’s also the Co-Owner of Luna Ruda, an online retail business selling ethically sourced – fair trade products from South American artisans. Nadia enjoys spending time with her son, thrifting & record shopping, and engaging in self-care practices.