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"You probably wouldn't be impressed right off if I told you I'd been mountaineering with 'The Martha Stewart of Camping,'" says Mike Steere, who last August followed Carole Latimer, author of the 1991 gustatory classic Wilderness Cuisine, as she led a motley group of six on the long, scenic route
up California's Mount Whitney ("It Ain't Heavy, It's My Salmon on Toast Points," page 66). "But if that lady in her fifties is going to 14,000 feet with enough on her back to do all this, then she is a very accomplished outdoorsperson."
What constitutes "all this" would make an old-school backpacker choke on his carob. Latimer champions a sumptuous wilderness lifestyle in which hors d'oeuvres are as neccessary as plain ol' fleece, fire, and water. Before leading clients on one of her hiking trips, she crams her pack with an RV's worth of culinary creature comforts.
This approach took some getting used to for Steere, who once happily survived two months in the woods on virtually nothing but KraftMacaroni & Cheese. Yet even he began to appreciate his hostess's message: It's a slippery slope from letting your eating habits go to neglecting other, more critical, concerns, like wet feet. "When it comes to taking
care of yourself," says Steere, "sloppiness is something you allow at your own peril."
Of course, Latimer's is but one approach to the joys of camping, which is why we've explored four other schools of wilderness travel—aimless wandering, long-distance trekking, canoe-camping, and fast-packing—in this, our 16th annual camping special ("What's Your Pleasure?" page 53). All of them have their own merits, but if you choose
Latimer's route, you'll need to prepare for certain hassles, such as julienning vegetables at trailside. That's why Steere has modified her program with this simple rule: "If you take a four-day trip, pack one idiotically great meal," he says. His favorite? The salmon roll, with nori, naturally.
With the Adirondacks right out his back door, Bill McKibben walks off into the woods every day and indulges in long-haul treks several times a year ("Go Long, Go Deep," page 54). A frequent contributor, he wrote about his transformation into a competitive
cross-country ski racer in the February 1999 issue, an article he expands upon in Long Distance: Notes on a Year of Living Strenuously, due out from Simon & Schuster this fall.
Is greater Las Vegas a hiking utopia? Rebecca Solnit makes that case in "Leaving Las Vegas" (page 90), an excerpt from her new book, Wanderlust: A History of Walking, to be published this month by Viking. "What was supposed to be the
greatest auto strip in history has become instead a great pedestrian mall, comparable to Paris's Champs Elysées," says San Francisco-based Solnit, recalling her December hike down Las Vegas Boulevard and beyond. "It is a populist Versailles."
"Every time I try to squeeze in a psychotic bunny, something bad happens," says Los Angeles-based illustrator Rob Clayton of the envelope he tries to push in commissions for sometimes skittish magazine editors. Luckily, nothing went awry when Outside received Clayton's vivid illustration for Rebecca Solnit's Las
Vegas walking adventure. He teaches and lectures at L.A.'s Art Center College of Design, and his artwork also hangs in the homes of such actors as Leonardo DiCaprio and Nicolas Cage.
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Stephanie Gregory says her new gig as Outside's Wild File oracle (her debut column appears on page 41) promises to be the perfect outlet for her insatiable curiosity. "It lets you get your fingers into the esoteric nooks and crannies of
the world," the former Outside research editor says of the monthly Q&A. Gregory also contributes an essay on canoe-camping to this issue's cover package.
When Patrick Symmes returned to New Zealand's Mackenzie Country ("Chasing Mackenzie's Ghost," page 110) after 12 years, he found it just as he'd left it: mountainous, green, and deserted. "It is the least-populated part of New Zealand—and the population is
declining," says Symmes, whose South American motorcycle travelogue, Chasing Che, was recently published by Vintage Departures.
Rob Buchanan first encountered Jeff Hakman ("Mr. Sunset Rides Again," page 72) when a friend gave him a copy of the surf legend's biography. Buchanan traveled to France to meet the man and chronicle his tale of glory days and heroin addiction, and of making and
losing millions as a founder of the apparel company Quiksilver USA Inc. "He set the table for what surfwear is today," Buchanan says, "not just selling stuff to surfers but marketing a casual lifestyle to mainstream consumers."
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