April Vokey turned a gift for fishing into a career as a guide, a TV personality, a podcast host, and the founder of an online community and education platform under the brand name Anchored. This gift set the direction of her life as a teenager, and it helped her after a drunk driver nearly killed her in her 20s. It’s powerful stuff, but possibly less powerful than April’s other gift: the gift of gab. It’s tough to describe the infectiously exciting way that experiences and insights pour out of her, so best to just sit back and enjoy the feeling of being swept away. Needless to say, April’s our first guest who managed to spin a single yarn that included catching the fish of a lifetime, a foiled backcountry skinny dip, a takedown of fishing bro culture, and the intersection of menstruation and adventure. Buckle up folks. You’re about to get the April Vokey experience.

If you’ve ever felt like forces beyond your control have grabbed the wheel of your life’s metaphorical car and are driving like a lunatic, there are no shortage of purported experts who claim to have the solution. Meditation, journaling, throwing away your possessions, saunas, ice baths, saunas then ice baths … it’s overwhelming. So here’s a different tip: ignore all that and take a cue from Brenna Huckaby. Brenna was forced to amputate her right leg above the knee after a devastating cancer diagnosis in her teens. She learned to snowboard as part of her recovery, and two years later she was a World Champion. Brenna has stood on the Paralympic podium three times, but if you’re thinking, “What an inspiration!”, hold that thought. She’ll represent the U.S. for the third time in a row at this winter’s Paralympics in Italy and, unlike the 2022 Games in Beijing, she didn’t even have to sue the International Paralympic Committee for the right to compete. Brenna’s perspective on disabilities and elite sports is hard won, and she wants you to watch this winter’s Games—but not for the reasons you might think. She doesn’t want your pity, but she demands your respect, and if you listen carefully you’ll learn a lot about what it means to take back control of your own life.

There’s no guarantee that your kids will be into the same things you’re into, so Jeremy Jones knows he’s lucky to have two who froth as hard about snowboarding as he does. But what do you do when your kids want to literally follow in your tracks, even though those tracks go down some of the biggest and most technically challenging lines in the history of the sport? Jeremy is a consensus pick for one of the best big mountain riders ever, and just as beloved for his pioneering work as a climate activist as the founder of Protect Our Winters. But it’s possible that his greatest accomplishment is raising a daughter and a son who are flashing the lines that made him famous—and not freaking out while watching them do it.

These days, traditional definitions of masculinity are in tension with the need for a more expansive understanding of how to be a man in the world. This is as true in the outdoors as anywhere, but the natural world also offers unique paths for men, toward emotional liberation, connection, and strength. For today’s episode, we dipped into our archive from last year’s Outside Festival (which is now called Outside Days) for a touching and deeply honest conversation with action sports legend Selema Masekela,  artist and author Mike de la Rocha, artist and Apache Skateboards founder Douglas Miles, and  cultural strategist and storyteller James Andrews. These four men credit their time outdoors with helping them make sense of complicated, often messy relationships with their parents, siblings, and friends. Listen in to explore how nature and community help a new generation of men redefine strength on their own terms.

Survivalist Max Djenohan sees your ultralight backpacking rig and chuckles. An eight-time contestant and fan favorite on the peak reality TV show “Naked and Afraid,” Max says roughing it with nothing more than a knife and a firestarter is both thrilling and gratifying in ways that belie the somewhat absurdist and lurid motivation for the show itself. In some ways, his run on the show revived his flagging relationship with the outdoors, following time as a professional snowboarder that ended in frustration. But, today, Max is back on snow while evolving the concept of survivalist TV in ways that are more engaging and fascinating than ever—and he doesn’t even have to get naked to do it.

The Olympics is a ridiculous mixture of hit-you-straight-in-the-feels origin stories and Greek god-level athletic prowess. Even in the endless parade of epic performances it inevitably serves up, Jessie Diggins’ will likely stand out. The most decorated American crosscountry skier of all time, Jessie was one of the most thrilling moments in Olympic history when she and teammate Kikkan Randall won the US’s first-ever crosscountry skiing gold in the team sprint at the 2018 Winter Games in Pyeongchang. She heads to the 2026 Winter Games in Cortina, Italy as one of the U.S. team’s most recognizable faces and the only crosscountry skier your parents have ever heard of. It would be unfair to say that she doesn’t feel the pressure of carrying the expectations of a country every time she blasts off the starting line, but her perspective on that pressure might surprise you—it’s one that owes as much to her elite accomplishments as it does to her down-to-earth Midwestern roots.

The comeback is central to the mythology of sports, and when one plays out on the already mythic stage of the Olympics, athletes in relatively obscure sports can become legends. That’s the context in which halfpipe skier Nick Goepper finds himself as the U.S. Ski Team prepares to name its Olympians next week. An unlikely ski phenom from Indiana, who first drew attention in the park of his 400-vertical foot local hill, Nick is a three-time Olympic medalist … in slopestyle. A successful late career pivot to halfpipe would be more than enough to make the 31-year-old a compelling main character of the upcoming Milan Cortina Winter Games, but that’s not why these Games are a comeback. In the 12 years since earning Bronze at the 2014 Games in Sochi, Russia, Nick battled depression, panic attacks, and substance abuse, all of which culminated in a very public arrest for criminal mischief. Nick has been guarded about his mental health journey until now, as he opens up about how you can only chase your dreams if you’re bold enough to face your demons. 

Adventuring outside is great for the beauty, the sense of awe, the fitness, but really…we’re all in it for the snacks. And no one chases down the munchies quite like skiers. Maybe you’ve seen a snowy wiggler pull a bratwurst out of a jacket pocket while on a chairlift. Maybe you yourself have devoured a towering plate of loaded tatter tots at apres. There’s just something about scarfing oodles of vittles during and after skiing that is far more satisfying than any other post mountain pursuit grubfest. And while it’s true that charging down a mountain in the cold empties your body’s glycogen stores, skiing and snacking has as much to do with your emotions as it does your legs. Because if you fail to refuel either your belly or your heart, well, there won’t be any pizza-french fry fun in your future. And in this classic episode from our vault, we explore the extremes skiers will go to fuel their powder day dreams.

Roman Dial is engaged in a five-decade exploration of Alaska by raft, mountain bike, and foot … but not trail. Over the course of locally legendary adventures like his 800-mile traverse of the Brooks Range and the 628 miles he once hiked with a single backpack’s worth of food and gear, Dial was forced to invent new means of transport, like the pack raft and a form of bushwack mountain biking called “hell biking.” His commitment to physical pursuits in his adopted home state is matched by intellectual traversing during a 30-plus year career as a professor of science and mathematics at Alaska Pacific University. As a teacher, Roman used his remarkable outdoor skills to lead research expeditions into the bush to mentor generations of scientists, all of which is beautifully captured in a new film about his life, “Arctic Alchemy.” After five decades of these sufferfests, Roman has a perspective on life and adventure that will change your attitude the next time you’re cold, wet, and many miles from home.

Even those of us who seek freedom and adventure in the wilderness are hardwired to keep themselves safe. It’s why we, as a species, outlasted the dodo and reached the top of the food chain. But there is a subset of outdoor athletes who seem to have found the genetic safety switch in their mitochondria and turned it off—folks like ski alpinist Christina Lustenberger. Lusti, as her superhuman friends call her, has racked up more first descents on mountains of consequence than arguably any other other woman in the last 10 years. These culminated in the past few years with the 20,000 foot Great Trango Tower in Pakistan, and Mount Robson, Canada’s tallest peak. But it’s in the less expected parts of her life that Lusti proves that she’s not always fearless. When it comes to facing the relationships in her life that aren’t going well, she feels the sharp end of fear that the rest of us might get staring up Robson. And what she does with that fear might surprise you. 

When the mountains grab ahold of your heart, they have a way of directing your life, even becoming a keystone of your identity. But what happens when you associate your time adventuring outside with the lowest points in your life? Can you retire from the outdoors? That’s exactly what  photographer and mountaineer Cory Richards did. You may have heard Cory’s story: after nearly two decades of first ascents and award winning photos and films, he experienced a mental health crisis during an expedition in Nepal, and quit climbing and photography. Since then, Cory’s been on countless event stages and talk shows and published  a memoir, The Color of Everything, all of which has focused on his experiences leading up to that decision. But what about since then? When the mountains, with all their splendor and all their demons, never really leave you, is that a good thing or a bad thing?