Outside Podcast

Every great character has a captivating origin story—the thing that explains not just the how but also the why of who they are. Santa Fe’s Katie Arnold is a great character: a writer, ultra runner, and Zen practitioner who rattles off insights about running, adventure, and the outdoors the way most of us rattle off to do lists. And her origin story is a classic: gal graduates college into a big city job, but a yearning for not just someTHING else but also someWHERE else rewrites her whole script. For Katie, the thing was a yearning for wide open space and where was Santa Fe, a place with the trail access, high alpine beauty, and an adventurous, irreverent community she didn’t realize she needed until she found it. What happened next was nothing short of life changing, and holds lessons for anyone with an itch they can’t quite scratch and yearning for wild places.

Today we are celebrating one year of PaddyO as host of the new interview format of your beloved Outside Podcast. We’ve got some big plans for this next year, and to commemorate the occasion we are revisiting one of our (and your) favorite chats. Enjoy this conversation with standup comedian and snowboarder Scott Losse. And thank you for tuning in! … An interesting thing happened when Scott Losse started poking fun at snowboarders and mountain bikers in his Instagram posts: He went from being sort of known around Seattle as a stand up comedian to blowing up across social media as the guy saying all the things a lot of us think when we’re at the mountain, on the trails, or in the bike park. Losse’s observational humor about the outdoors has transformed his trajectory as a comic; more importantly, it helps ensure our often painfully self-serious social feeds, filled with inspiring-but-totally-unrelatable accomplishments, get a little more silly.

In the mid-90s, the cultural collision of music and sports was everywhere in pop culture. You saw it through the brand new X Games and MTV Sports, in movies like “Point Break” and “Airborne,” and you heard it through what we used to call “alternative rock.” The band Third Eye Blind was a staple of this era, so you’d think that frontman Stephan Jenkins might have followed a similar trajectory to his rock god peers of the era. But you’d be wrong. Stephan, a surfer since childhood, grew up in the Bay Area and his break of choice is San Francisco’s notoriously big, dangerous, and sharky Ocean Beach. And he’s not just out in the water looking for stoke; he's a tireless ocean advocate. For as long as he’s surfed, Stephan has fought for kelp restoration and plastic reduction along the California coastline. He also regularly volunteers with the Jimmy Miller Memorial Foundation, which helps veterans treat PTSD through surfing. This connection endlessly—even subconsciously—influences the music Stephan makes. Turns out, when you spend your life in the water and making music, the two things combine in ways that it takes a lifetime to understand.

You’re on a hike and the faff of daily life won’t stop clanging around your head. Then, all of a sudden, the to-do list instantly evaporates when you notice dappled light dancing on the trail. Calm sweeps over you and you’re filled with a great sense of connection and gratitude. This is the phenomenon of awe and it’s not just an ooey-gooey feeling; it’s a new area of scientific study. Just ask social psychologist Dr. Paul Piff. Through ingenious experiments conducted on the South Shore of Lake Tahoe, Piff and his research team have identified that corner of California as potentially the epicenter of awe. After hiking along its shores and gazing upon its iconic waters, Piff’s Tahoe participants have responded with increased feelings of selflessness, empathy, and happiness. And the good doctor believes that if we can harness the effects of awe we can tackle the greatest societal issues of our time: the loneliness epidemic, digital addiction, and even the intractable polarization of society. This is all investigated in great detail in Outside TV’s new show “ Beyond Awestruck: The Scientific Search For Connection”, out now. And in this chat Dr. Piff outlines how our time outside is far more meaningful than cool views and handfuls of GORP.

You’re on a hike and the faff of daily life won’t stop clanging around your head. Then, all of a sudden, the to-do list instantly evaporates when you notice dappled light dancing on the trail. Calm sweeps over you and you’re filled with a great sense of connection and gratitude. This is the phenomenon of awe and it’s not just an ooey-gooey feeling; it’s a new area of scientific study. Just ask social psychologist Dr. Paul Piff. Through ingenious experiments conducted on the South Shore of Lake Tahoe, Piff and his research team have identified that corner of California as potentially the epicenter of awe. After hiking along its shores and gazing upon its iconic waters, Piff’s Tahoe participants have responded with increased feelings of selflessness, empathy, and happiness. And the good doctor believes that if we can harness the effects of awe we can tackle the greatest societal issues of our time: the loneliness epidemic, digital addiction, and even the intractable polarization of society. This is all investigated in great detail in Outside TV’s new show “ Beyond Awestruck: The Scientific Search For Connection”, out now. And in this chat Dr. Piff outlines how our time outside is far more meaningful than cool views and handfuls of GORP.

Outdoor folks love to push themselves to go farther, faster, higher, etc., and there’s a good reason for it: When you climb a big mountain or finish that half marathon or ski that steep run, it can translate into a confidence that makes hard things in the rest of our lives seem less daunting. But most of us are just as—or maybe more—familiar with the feeling of talking ourselves out of big goals, because they seem too complicated or scary to pull off. When that happens, we’d all do well to listen to skier and artist Chris Benchetler. Chris’s latest film, “Mountains of the Moon”, literally stretched the boundaries of what’s possible in adventure filmmaking. The movie was shot almost entirely at night, often in sub-zero, rugged backcountry terrain where massive lighting installations were built to paint the darkness and capture the athletes in their one-of-a-kind glowing skeleton suits (did we mention all the music is from the Grateful Dead?). It’s astonishing that the film even got made, but Chris has built a career and a life based on a simple principal: don’t avoid doing the hard thing just because it’s hard.

“Chill”, “mellow”, and “relaxed” are probably not words you think of when you hear about the latest climbing feat from Alex Honnold. ”Terrified” and “mesmerized” likely better describe what it felt like watching live as the ropeless wonder scaled the 1,667-foot Taipei 101 skyscraper. So you might be surprised to learn that Alex recently did something else for the TV camera that was, in fact, pretty chill, mellow, and relaxed. A new show on Outside TV called “Get a Little Out There”, showcases a side of him rarely seen—the one where he’s a husband and a father who just likes to get outdoors and explore everything his adopted home state of Nevada has to offer. It’s fascinating because, while watching Alex enjoy decidedly non-life-threatening adventures like stargazing and mountain biking and hanging out with a donkey in a bar—you know, normal Nevada stuff—he comes across as down to Earth and full of insights and ideas that will resonate with anyone looking for more everyday adventure in their own lives.

Big wall climbing is about as relatable as space travel to the average human. To whit: When Sasha DiGiulian and her partner Elliot Faber attempted the audacious Platinum route, they planned to spend 15 days on the massive wall. Then, 2,600 feet up, a freak winter storm pinned them inside their tiny portaledge tents for nine full days. But just because Sasha has the skill to get herself into that bonkers situation and the focus and pain tolerance to make it out—her and Elliot ultimately completed the climb in 23 (?!) days—doesn’t mean she herself is unrelatable. In fact, in a career racking up one of the most impressive big wall resumes in climbing, Sasha has developed a remarkably simple recipe for success. Fortunately for you, understanding it is a lot easier than hanging off a massive cliff for over a week.

In the 1980s and 90s, Bill Bradley was a video rental mogul. At his peak, he had stores all over Santa Rosa, California, was worth millions of dollars, and was seen as an industry innovator. That's probably why he was dismissive when a little company called Netflix appeared and proceeded to lay waste to the entire video rental industry. In a whiplash-inducing turn of events, Bill lost everything—his riches, his business, his marriage, and his sense of purpose. Prior to this life explosion, Bill was a casual runner, plodding along in a few marathons and Ironmans. And when he was at his lowest, he dove head first into the world of ultra endurance sports. Since the collapse of his VHS empire in 2005, Bill has taken on the world’s toughest challenges, like the Arrowhead Ultra, the Badwater Ultra, swimming the English channel, and attempts at the world’s tallest peaks. And yes, he has set records along the way. But what is truly remarkable and what turned Bill into Epic Bill, is that he has come short far more often than he has crossed the finish line. Epic Bill believes that his failures have taught him more than any victory ever could. Because how you try at one thing is how you try at everything.

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?