“Lets escape to the outdoors!” Almost all of my weekends as a child growing up in Washington State started with this phrase. I grew up trekking thorough trails in Washington’s mountain ranges, camping during the summers, and learning from my family how to escape the suburban lifestyle. Giving back to my outdoor childhood, I now work seasonally at an outdoor recreation co-op called REI. It wasn’t until leaving Washington State and attending college that I began to think more critically about my enthusiasm for the outdoors. Re-locating to sunny southern California was my brilliant idea of a great recreational move. Until the financial strain of college depressed my bank account, I did not fully understand why I loved the outdoors so much, and also why I could afford it.

To escape from reality to a more natural and primitive way of life is my way of relaxing. I am allowed to forget the pressures of urban life and build for myself a “primitive” shelter in the woods. I began to think more about the customers I assist at REI and the people I encounter on the mountain. They’re primarily white, have enough gear to make their adventures safe and enjoyable, and have the time and energy to commit to the lifestyle. This revealed my privilege to be able to stay comfortably outdoors short term and return to my home afterward.

Poor and homeless people do not have this option. Many of them do not get to choose to live outside. They don’t have the money to purchase comfortable gear or the time to think about a relaxing escape.

When the outdoor enthusiast encounters the homeless, do they recognize the irony of outdoor living that is akin to their very own? Can privileged people imagine what its like to live outside unwillingly? Should we all be more critical of our costly outdoor adventures? What do homeless people think about the more fortunately housed outdoor enthusiast?