The day after Earth Day

TUCSON, ARIZONA -- The Desert doesn’t seem to care about Earth Day.   In fact, it seems to enjoy the fact that it’s winning.

The Desert owns a quarter of the earth’s surface already, but the Desert isn’t satisfied. The Desert is pushing back forests, drying up grasslands, and changing tenants at a historic rate.   

As the Desert heats up four times faster than the global average, the Desert is not-so-quietly celebrating the fact that it has clearly gained the upper hand against the cold, green world.  

And why not?  The Desert has us on its side, after all.

If you’re the glass half empty crowd … and I know you are ... you like to whisper that the upward creep of the Desert is loud proof that we’re all screwed.   You think that rampant consumerism is too far out of the barn to be reined in, especially since shopping as a sport has spread worldwide.  You think that our governments are unwilling, impotent and overrated in their ability to do anything about climate change. You think that our culture is the equivalent of a watered down Diet Coke – artificial and strange, and getting weaker by the day.  And you think that our population has successfully devolved into a species that thinks food comes from Sam’s Club, and water comes from Poland Springs.

But if you’re the glass half full crowd … and I know you are … you also have a weird buzzing between your ears.  If the Earth were truly painted into a corner, why would we still be talking about it?  If we have all given up, why would it make our stomach turn every time we read another page of bad environmental news?

Often enough, but not often enough, you meet people in your daily adventures, and they look you in the eye. They listen. They think. They smile. There is kindness and intelligence out there, despite the headlines that say otherwise.   

Ironically, you believe that the curse of more people is also the solution.    More brains means more ideas.   More ideas means more chances for things to work out the right way.  The positive way.

And one of those ways might even come from the Desert.   

Along with all the Desert's heating will come a new wetness, too.   The sure increase in global rainfall will surely impact at least some of the growing Desert.

What we don't know is how wet this new Desert will get. What we do know is that rain plus desert equals vegetation, and a greening up of the desert climate would put at least one finger on the right side of the scale ... starting the process of carbon sequestration:  a sucking of carbon back out of the atmosphere an inserting it into a place that can actually use it.

I’m not saying that we should stick our head in the sand, literally, and count on the Desert as the only solution. 

I’m just saying that if the Desert can believe in us, maybe we can believe in ourselves too.

LINK:   Global Deserts Outlook, United Nations Environmental Program

'Gear Institue' strips things down to the bare essentials

Once upon a time there, was no gear. Now, there is very much gear. Scholars from the future will call it this the Gear Era, and they will scientifically pinpoint the moment in time when Gear became a Thing. 

That future timeline will likely date back to 1973, when the same crazy kids who were smoking weed, getting naked and having sex to "Eat a Peach" decided that that they'd rather smoke weed, get naked, and run around with all the other future running shoe company CEOs. Streaking was the antithesis of gear, but it was also the doorway.

 In the 40 years since then, Gear has become more than running shoes and skis and packs and gloves and lighters and Gore Tex dog leashes and barbecue grills. Gear has become stuff that we actually think about before we buy it. Sometimes, Gear gets bought before we even plan an adventure. And Gear can often become the dusty icon in the corner of the room that reminds us of those adventures we once had.

Seeking to "professionalize" the modern art of Gear reviewing, a team of outdoor journalists has erected a unique digital structure from their base in New Mexico. Known as the "Gear Institute," the independently published website draws part of its inspiration from the sterile testing environment of Consumer Reports ... and the rest from the seemingly insatiable demand among the general public for gear reviews.

 There are no lab coats that I'm aware of at this institute, and as yet there is no PhD available in Gearology. However, if they have their way ... the lab coats may be coming.

 Below is a quick conversation with Justin Nyberg, co-founder of the Gear Institute:

Why are people so obsessed with gear? 

Because gear is power. I’m only half kidding. Just about anything cool you’d want to do in the outdoors requires equipment of some kind, and the stuff is pricey. I think people’s obsession with gear is just a proxy for their obsession with expanding their horizons—doing it faster, cleaner, more efficiently, more comfortably, or just in a cooler way. Plus, when you get right down to it, we’re all materialistic gluttons. New stuff is always fun. 

Where did the idea for the Gear Institute hatch? I hope scotch was involved. 

Actually, it was green chili. My buddy Pete Kray invited me to the breakfast spot with the hottest green chili in New Mexico—Horseman’s Haven Cafe, in Santa Fe. While the steam was pouring out of our eyes, we got to bemoaning the lack of thorough, objective, expert gear testing websites out there. It seemed like everything out there was either really superficial or just unhelpful to a consumer trying to make a smart buying decision. And we both knew many of the brightest, most thorough, and best respected outdoor gear testers in the industry who deserved to have their work highlighted. So we launched our own. 

If things work perfectly, what will the Gear Institute look like in 10 years? 

The Taj Mahal! No, if things continue the way we’re going, we’re going to have an expert in each major product category in the outdoor industry, cranking out objective reports that help savvy consumers make sense of the flood of gear on the market. It’s going to be a really robust, consumer-friendly tool. Knives, heart rate monitors, high-power flashlights, dog PFDs—you name it. Beyond that, the expansion plan is something we keep close to our chests, but ultimately, we want people to equate the Gear Institute with the testing organizations we respect the most in other industries—groups like Consumer Reports in consumer products, and websites like CNET.com in tech. (On the print side, it publications like Outside’s Buyers Guide, Backpacker’s Gear Guide, and Mountain Magazine’s ski tests that I think set the bar in our industry.) 

How do you feel about Wes Welker joining the Broncos? 

That’s football, right? 

Who is on the core team? And how many people are on the "roster"? 

Tal-ee Roberts is our tech maestro; he built the site and all it’s features. He’s a genius. Ken Marold designed it—we wanted to have the best looking and most user friendly tool for consumers to get clear info on products, and he really delivered. Peter Kray is our publisher and deals with our ad sales, along with Chris Van Leuven, who’s on contract for us. And I coordinate all our testers. Right now, we have 42 testers, and I’m recruiting more every other week or so. Each one is an independent freelancer who knows their particular niche very well, and each one came recommended by folks we respect. It’s shaping up to be a sort of All Star team of outdoor industry testers. The idea is that you should be able to come to the Gear Institute and no matter what you’re looking for, you’re going to get straight, objective advice from someone whose opinion is well respected.

Is the Gear Institute working to be the Consumer Reports of gear? 

In a lot of ways, yes. We are totally inspired by their approach. Outdoor gear buyers invest heavily in their gear, and sometimes put their lives on it, and they deserve an organization like Consumer Reports that is totally objective and only concerned with helping them make smart gear choices. There are some differences—for example, Gear Institute has to sell ads to support our site, but we take a strict, old school journalism approach to separating editorial from advertising interests. Our reports come straight from our independent testers, and our advertisers know they can’t influence those reports. 

In your lifetime, how many products have you reviewed? 

More than I can count. I was at Outside magazine for 6 years, doing a lot of gear stories. I spent years testing gear of all sorts, so I have a good sense of how most of the technology works. But these days, I leave the testing mostly to our crew, who can focus on one niche at a time. 

What's the worst piece of gear you've ever reviewed? Did that review see the light of day? 

Oh man, there’s been a bunch. Some companies make the silliest stuff. But junk isn’t really worth anyone’s time. We’ll give it a fair shake, but with so many products to choose from, we usually invest our time in stuff we can recommend for someone, rather than to just publish an alert that some product no one has heard of isn’t up to snuff. But if we take the time to review a major, production-line product, and it falls apart, we’ll definitely publish the results. 

What's the difference between a "good" gear expert and a "bad" gear expert? 

There’s a lot. But mainly a “good” gear expert is able to step outside of his or her own biases and help explain the product’s strengths and weaknesses objectively—so any buyer can understand its strengths and weaknesses, and make their own decision. “Bad” gear experts are usually just folks whose opinion on a product is a reflection of their own personal tastes. A good gear expert has seen enough product to know who will love the product, who will hate it, and how it compares to other products like it. They speak for everyone, not just for themselves. 

Are you getting pushback from companies about being "too honest"? 

No. The opposite actually. What we hear on the trade show floor is a lot of encouragement, and almost gratitude for finally filling this gap. People want something real. I think it’s a bigger shift in marketing strategies that social media is helping bringing about. It’s all about authenticity. With so many people voting with their “Like” and “Share” buttons, it’s clear that people mostly respond to what they believe in. And you don’t stand a chance if you’re not credible. So I think it’s sort of an old-school, out of touch mindset to say “give us a glowing review or we’ll never work with you again.” But the responsibility goes both ways—whether we praise a product or criticize it, the goal is always the same: be fair, be thorough, and let the evidence do the talking. We don’t expect marketers to love every one of our reviews. But we do hope our testers have earned their respect. The good thing is that most of the products in this industry are really good—they do what they’re supposed to do without a lot of sacrifices—and so it’s rare that we have to call something out. 

Are you ever disappointed when you don't get pushback from companies about being "too honest"? 

Funny question—no. We’re not gunning for a fight. We’re just having a great time. 

LINK: GEAR INSTITUTE

Tools for PR success: The Client Mood Ring

A lot of people find themselves compelled to ask me the same thing.   "Drew .... how do YOU find time for Parcheesi?"

Simply put, I'd be nothing if it weren't for my lucky astrology Client Mood Ring.

Employing the same arcane, chicken-sacrificing dark arts that led to the development of Crocs and Tom Brady, the Client Mood Ring changes color based on emotional mood of internal company contacts located hundreds or even thousands of miles away.  

Want to get the most out of your 60 minute weekly status call?    Just check the ring.

Looking for a green light on that NYC showroom event?  Do a pump fake toward the K-cup machine ... then check the ring.

Thinking about a 6% increase in your rates for the coming fiscal year?   Absolutely, positively check the ring before you make that call.

Reflecting a mood in a simple basic color, the Client Mood Ring reads a client's biorhythms, synapse activity, pulse rates, testosterone level, estrogen cycle, blood alcohol-and/or-caffeine content,  breakfast selection, and proximity to their own boss.   It incorporates external events as well, like how well that new trade show booth is coming along, the status of the workbook redesign, and the recentness of budget cut discussions targeting the marketing department.    

One simple color = a world of information.

Violet Blue

The client is happy.    All's good.    Things look great.   We can tackle that later.   This 60 minute status call should take only ten minutes.    Which means that they are about to head on vacation.

Blue

The client is calm, subdued and satisfied.    Sure, let's look at that fam trip idea for Fiji.   Which means that their boss has just left for vacation.

Green

The client is indifferent, underworked, and bored.   This never happens.

Yellow / Amber

The client is excited, in a good way.   They like your ideas.   They want to hear more of what you're saying.    They like the budget recommendation you sent over, and have given it full approval.    If you could bottle this energy and sell it, you'd be almost as successful as Scratch-and-Win RedBull Jell-o Shots.

Brown/Gray

The client is nervous, anxious and getting ramped up, in a bad way.    They didn't like your Christmas box of bacon.   They found seven dangling participles in your last press release draft.   They would like to see a decade-to-date summary of all agency activity with corresponding ROI so that they can put a value on every minute they've spent listening to you.    And they would like it by tomorrow.    

Black

The client is shopping around for another agency and will soon return your final invoice.   When they say the decision "came from above", what they meant to say is that it came from their brain before it got to their mouth.    They would still like to connect on LinkedIn, though.    And would it be possible to get some new waders before things wrap up?

Does Made-in-the-USA matter?

It came like a tornado.   Things were grey and uncertain and a bit blustery, and then the sudden clarity pushed everything aside.

Green was good.   People couldn’t get enough of Green.   Gear was Green, restaurants were Green, Leonardo di Caprio announced that the Oscars were going Green, magazines rolled out special issues devoted to Green, and some folks went all in on Green.

In the land of PR, the email inbox rang off the hook for nearly two solid years with writers and editors seeking anything Green.    It was a macro story, the Big one, and it tapped into the holy trinity of publishing … advertisers, editors and readers all wanted it, and they all got it.

The end of Green, of course, coincided neatly with a nasty economic plunge.   Editorial calendars culled Green from their rosters, as the number one concern shifted from sustainability to survival.    Outside of publishing, numerous entities (companies, countries) also dropped the Green idea for much the same reason.

Green still lingers around, but it’s not the same.   As a client of mine accurately foretold years ago, eventually we’ll get as much credit for being Green as we will for taking out the recycling:  which is to say, not much at all.

The Next Big Story hasn’t landed yet.    It may be years or decades till things coincide like 2007 again.    But if I were picking a favorite to win the horse race, I know exactly what number I would root for.  

It’d be Made-in-the-USA.

Not so much the flag-waving, fourth-of-July, rah-rah, Made-in-the-USA story … but the close-to-home, increased-quality, lower-carbon-footprint story.    It’s the story of companies and brands and people who still actually make things.  And it’s the story of economic success.

To be accurate, that Made-in-the-USA tag should actually be Made-at-Home or maybe Made-Right-Here, as there are many more companies who make things “locally” in their own part of the world, and who should get just as much credit.

In all honesty, I’ve been surprised that Made-Right-Here hasn’t ascended to the level of the Next Big Story quite yet.   The stories are already out there, already compelling, and already practically written.    

Organically, our small agency has wound up representing numerous clients that are either wholly or increasingly committed to the Made-Right-Here concept …  Woolrich blankets, Dale of Norway sweaters, Westcomb outerwear, Simmsfishing waders, Kokatat paddle gear, Sea Bags totes, Farm to Feet socks.   

As much as I’d like to take credit for how we sought out and developed a client base brimming with the Next Big Story, it’s simply not true.   The truth is that this is a legitimate trend, that companies are thriving because of their Made-Right-Here programs, and that the idea is growing.

But it hasn't reached "that level" quite yet.   

Part of this is the fault of the Last Big Story.     During the eco-frenzy of five years ago, being labeled a “Greenwasher” … aka someone overstating the claims of environmental goodness … was a peril to be avoided at all costs.    Brands are leery of being seen as wrapping themselves in the flag, and many media companies seem to be tiptoeing around the edge … wondering if things are actually as they seem, or some sort of jedi mind trick from the PR cabal.

It also could be that the big blocker to being the Next Big Story is that Made-Right-Here is dominated by smaller enterprises.   Less than 100 employees, less than 50 and in many cases even less than 25.     

A few months ago I called into an NPR talk show devoted to the topic, and mentioned the strength of domestically made goods in the outdoor industry.     It didn’t really take … he was more interested in companies with thousands of employees worldwide, than of a sector within an industry supporting a leisure time category.  

However, for media covering that exact sector, the response has been even more lukewarm, if that’s possible.    A story here and there, and that’s about it.   

Putting myself in their shoes, I can hear the editorial arm wrestling from the budget meetings fairly clearly.    The story is too complicated, the story is too boring, quality product is what really matters, our advertisers aren’t supporting it.   And I can respect that.

I also respect that the story is happening right now, all around us.     People are making huge decisions about where to do things and why.       Quality is world-class.    And people care. 

When friends die on Facebook

Peter Devin was an Outdoor Retailer Show Director, a Fly Fishing Retailer Show Director, a former client of mine, an outdoor industry colleague, and a friend.    

Not a Christmas Card friend, nor a Wednesday night beer drinking friend, nor even a golfing foursome friend, but a Facebook friend.  He lived a couple thousand miles away in Newport Beach, California, and outside of "industry" events that we were both attending, the only social interaction we had with each other was through social media.     

Peter died yesterday of Amyotropic Lateral Sclerosis, commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease.   When he first told me about it his diagnosis a few years ago about at the Outdoor Retailer Winter Market show, I knew it was horrible news.   But it wasn't until that night in my hotel room, when I read the full Wikipedia post on the disease and its brutal effects, that I cried.   

The degenerative nature of ALS takes years to take its full toll.    And thanks to Facebook, we watched it all.

When Peter and I talked about the ALS that first time (3 years ago?), his voice was already significantly altered as difficulty speaking and swallowing is part of the drill with ALS.    But on Facebook, his voice was gentle, real and continual.    He wrote about awesome bucket list things like caddying for pros at the Masters, traveling with his family to Italy and fly fishing all sorts of killer waters.  He frequently posted incredible smiling photos of himself with family and friends.   While he certainly had the license to do some gratuitous over-posting, Peter was actually pretty restrained about the frequency of his updates.   

Over time, those status update smiles got thinner and more angular as his neck muscles faded and his head started to tilt.  A wheelchair began to be a constant companion in those photos, and then eventually it changed to a hospital bed.   

I'm not sure exactly when the authorship switched on his Facebook page, but at some point it obviously did.   It's pretty easy to figure out when the posts change to updates about hospital stays, near misses, and eventually a notice of his death and memorial service.

I didn't like anything about Peter's battle with ALS, but I was fond of seeing his posts.    Even the "trivial" ones about things like college football had a certain poignancy to them.    Not because they were meticulously crafted or framed with a colored filter, but because they were real thoughts from a real person who was steadily approaching the end of the line.

Facebook can be dumb, vapid, and wildly self-indulgent.     At times in the last 12 months, I've become increasingly concerned that the overcrafted, over-safe, and over-shallow nature of personal posts are the first hints of a social media death spiral.

But when things actually do matter, Facebook is a brilliant tool for the job.   I'm thankful for that, and I'm thankful to have had at least a small glimpse into Peter's world for the last three years.

Rest in peace, Peter.

Monday morning shred ... From Finland with love

Prospecting Idaho, redux

PROSPECTING IDAHO Episode 3.6 from smith optics on Vimeo.

Free your heel ... and use the cash to buy medical marijuana in Massachusetts

"Let's Go!" - Official Telemark Skier Movie Trailer from Telemark Skier on Vimeo.

Get the Japan jones

Groundswell

Baker

'BAKER' from Dubsatch Collective on Vimeo.

'... There's no such thing as bad snow, only bad skiers ...'

The "Choose Your Adventure" teaser from PowderWhore....www.powderwhore.com

Bring out the plank!

AWOL TEASER from NuuLife Cinema on Vimeo.

Finally, something I can get behind

That yellow band: does it stay or does it go?

It started about two years ago, during the aftermath of a sales meeting far far far away.   I was wearing a yellow rubber band, as I have for the most part of the last 6 years, and I got called on it.  "Livestrong, man ... Live STRONG."

It wasn't said in an encouraging way.   Not like it used to be.   Instead, it was accusative.   It was the way Newman talks to Jerry.   Or Archie to Meathead.    An extremely pointed comment, wet with sarcasm, implication and collusion.

As I live and work on the periphery of the cycling world, it's probably natural to assume that the yellow bracelet on my wrist is a rah-rah-Lance thing.   There are certainly plenty of folks who sport the Livestrong band for that reason, and I've had numerous conversations over the years with people who see mine and immediately jump into a bicycling conversation ("... so, you're a cyclist?"..."looking forward to the Tour?").   

But the band for me ... and for many, many others ... is a cancer thing.    It's a subtle, almost invisible reminder of the things you've been through, or the things other people have been through.   It's an everyday reminder to not sweat the small stuff.   A quiet encouragement to squeeze in that run after all.   A tiny cheerleader that says "go for it."

As quantifiable as Lance's impact has been on cycling (increased ratings, increased sponsorship dollars in cycling, road bike sales, etc), it's nearly impossible to measure his true impact in the cancer world.   Yes, the Livestrong Foundation has made -- and given away -- a lot of money.   But in the chemotherapy wards and the oncology waiting rooms,  there are a lot of people -- like myself -- who encounter a stack of his books on nearly every table and end up reading it with a different kind of filter.   A filter that honestly won't ever bother to watch him on Vs., or give a rat's ass whether he ever won one, two or twenty Tour titles.   A filter that sees the world as truly not being about the bike.   A filter that helps to make peace with the cancer process.

Don't get me wrong.   I'm not a Lance groupie.   The fact that he's being stripped of Tour titles and banned from cycling doesn't mean squat to me.    And while the allegations against the Livestrong organization have certainly gotten my attention, that part of things really seems like a witch hunt.

Selfishly, at this point, it's about me.   It's not about the bike, and it never has been.     But this somewhat private, just-noticeable-enough token has become much more conspicuous today.

At times I've tried other mental reminders ...  things around my neck, different types of wristlets ...  but they get lost, or they don't seem to work quite as well on my aging brain as a flash of yellow under that suit sleeve, or they just feel too heavy, too obvious, too wrong.     And the cycling conversations aren't horrible, it's just that any guy with shaved legs and a half a Michelob Ultra in his bloodstream seems really eager to cross a major freeway to lecture me about doping.

As of this morning, the yellow band is still on.  It feels more right than wrong, more personal than public, more me than him.

But the day after tomorrow?   It'd be cheating to say for sure.