Inside Out; Outside In.

Across the world, outdoor enthusiasts are caged like animals. Humanity is on a standstill, a universal intake of breath in late February which is now held, waiting to be released when the wave of pandemic washes past us.

Rather than a gentle, rolling wave which can wash over you and leave you feeling at one with the ocean, this particular wave has caught us up in a cascade of waste plastic and worn out prophylactics. It is rapidly barrelling us toward a headland of sharp rocks and broken bottles, and it is up to a man selling oversized sunglasses to patch us back together and get us help. Not to labour a point, but it’s a shit situation.

If this was happening just in one country or community the response would most likely be stunted and perhaps impassive. The fact that it’s happening around the world is simultaneously the biggest threat and greatest opportunity for humanity’s fight against it. All over social media, from those news outlets which aren’t following some floppy haired orange cartoon, in newspapers and on the radio, there are stories of incredible generosity, spirit and positivity, intermingled with the unfortunate but unavoidable deaths, disease and disproportionate buying of toilet roll and flour.

Yes, this disease has somehow inspired a whole generation of bakers, who never knew they kneaded the skill (sorry). Artists, musicians, photographers and writers have appeared out of the woodwork. This influx of creativity has permeated every avenue of society. Teachers have an incredible support network and are selflessly creating materials for homeschooling when they could be binge watching a show about tigers. Every educator, and outdoor centre in the world is providing their own ideas on how to pass the time on lockdown, through podcasts, videos and writing. Online courses are becoming freely available so that those who want to spend the time pursuing some academia, language or new skill have the opportunity to develop themselves. Even adult websites have jumped on the bandwagon and have offered free premium packages to ‘keep everyone going’, which may go some way to explaining the toilet roll shortage.

This isn’t going to be a how-to-get-through-the-pandemic listicle of ideas, but it is a reminder that while you can’t go outside, you can bring it with you indoors.

There are a million and one books, films and series out there which can inspire you and keep that fire in your belly burning. Climbers have been table bouldering, people have been making short films of their indoor-outdoor adventures. Campsites have been set up in the garden, fairy lights strewn around and marshmallows toasted on tea lights. For those who don’t have a garden, tarpaulins make a fantastic indoor fort. If you’ve exhausted all of those, I guess you could even update your logbook, but you’d really have to be desperate.

photo courtesy of Rob Slater

photo courtesy of Kenny Noble

photo courtesy of Kenny Noble

Okay, so it got a bit preachy, sorry about that.

With so many options to keep us entertained, you, like me, might be asking yourself the question ‘so why is it that I am so bloody bored’. You might even be feeling guilty for moaning, or for being down. After all there are people dying in their thousands, losing loved ones and those on the front line are working long, selfless hours, putting themselves at great risk to minimise the effect of this disease. And yet, I sit here, feeling as though I am cracking up, moaning about the fact I’m not meant to go outside and get into the mountains. It's selfish, and yet many of us can’t help but feel that way.

The reason is simple. It’s our self identity. Undoubtedly there are many people in the world who go “outdoors”, but often they spend more time trying to work out how to word “I love hiking and nature” on their Tinder bios than they do actually hiking and being in nature. For many others, other than impending doom, this virus has barely affected their lifestyle at all. A case in point here, my dad has admitted that if it weren’t for the fact my mum is at home more than she used to be, he would have absolutely no idea there was a pandemic. He is perfectly content keeping himself to himself, he works, as usual, from my old bedroom at home where he has been ever since he disagreed with an office relocation.

That’s a little unfair on my dad, who loves getting into the outdoors when the opportunity arises. He is actually just an extremely content man, and if I made public how much food he manages to grow in his small garden, half of the UK would descend on it now that supermarkets are empty. On the plus side, we’re now only allowed out for an hour per day, so that limits his potential raiders.

So there are those who go into the outdoors infrequently, those who, for the sake of this argument, don’t go into the outdoors at all. Then there’s us. Our hobbies all involve being out of the house for days at a time, our cupboards are full of equipment which is only useful when stuffed into a rucksack and carried up a mountain, or to whittle a new piece of cutlery. We have shelves of maps and guidebooks, all of which taunt us with adventures we can’t have at the moment. There are only so many plans which you can make. Our entire existence is as this outdoor persona, it’s how our friends know us, and in fact it’s how many of us know our friends, our significant others. I have had friends for years that I wouldn’t recognise without a helmet on their head, or their bottom half in a boat. We recognise people by their equipment, their vehicle, the way they move their boat around or how they scale a wall.

Having this taken from us at such a time leaves us physically wound up, full of energy raring to go; an hour of exercise doesn’t quite quell the surge of energy usually given to a six hour run through the mountains. More than this though, our pastimes being so reliant on being outdoors, it leaves us bored, it leaves a void where skiing, biking, running, boating, climbing, paragliding, or whatever it is that you give your life to, usually fills.

I don’t have the answers, but we all know we mustn't be tempted. Healthcare is overwhelmed as it is, and the last thing a rescue team needs is to come and fish you off a hillside, putting themselves in danger and exposing themselves to a whole team of people. Hospitals have enough on their plate without fixing you, and with so many infected already there, a broken leg could turn into something much more serious.

So when I suggest bringing the outdoors indoors, I don’t just mean the physical attributes. Growing trees and mountains in your living room isn’t especially practical and if you’re in rented accommodation you’ll probably forfeit your damage deposit, but there are things that can be done. By that I mean we can reflect and reminisce, and plan for future trips and expeditions. I watched a talk yesterday which spoke of a prisoner of war, who in seven years of self isolation, took twenty strokes off his golf game through visualisation alone. He would wake in the morning and actively play the 18 holes, going through each step of the process, living the process as he ground out years of solitary confinement.

It may sound ludicrous, even impossible, but this visualisation and future proofing of our skills will be invaluable when we come out the other side of this. As well as these psychological opportunities, I have found so many old photos and videos during this time which remind me of the journey I have taken through the outdoors to get this far and some of the hilarious, difficult and poignant moments that have shaped my outdoor career. I rarely take the time to reflect on this journey and appreciate where I am and how I can shape my progressional trajectory.

It’s an opportunity to hold video calls and discuss trips, skills, techniques and plans. Whatever you do, be sure to keep your identity and keep developing your skills, enhance your mental toughness and you will come out of this stronger than you went into it. And for god’s sake, stop stockpiling flour.

photo courtesy of Grant Dolier