Cool new feature on National Geographic’s site: navigate the archives of their MyShot database of beautiful National Park images by zooming in on a photo to reveal the photomosaic that makes up the image.

You can contribute by submitting your photos; each month two photos are selected from the submissions to be printed in National Geographic’s print magazine.

(via National Geographic)

60 seconds to cool you off on a hot July day.

Equal parts experimental architecture, sustainable sculpture, jungle gym, and live performance, Big Bambu—Mike and Doug Starns’ massive installation on the roof of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York—takes a decidedly outdoor approach to creating art.

Produced in collaboration with a group of climbers from New Paltz, NY (home of The Gunks, the Northeast’s trad-climbing shangri-la), Big Bambu is a work in progress, rising pole by pole as the climbers lash them together with nylon rope. It’s watching this progress that offers a good part of the work’s appeal: on a recent visit, when the structure stood over 30 feet tall, they sat perched in the latticework, with Central Park and the New York City skyline spread out behind them, like workers building a mid-century skyscraper.

The finished piece, as the Starn’s envision it, will take the form of a cresting wave; in progress, it looks like the bones of a kind of bamboo Bilbao Guggenheim. And while it’s no longer green in color—a month and a half of sun has bleached the shoots to a weathered tan—it’s renewable nature stands as a refreshing monument to the flexibility of sustainable materials.

For a closer look, a series of ramps and walkways allow (ticketed) visitors to climb up into the structure, which when completed is expected to measure 100 feet long, 50 feet wide and fifty feet high. Of the scale of the project, Doug says, “The reason we had to make it so big is to make all of us feel small—or at least to awaken us to the fact that individually we are not so big. Once we’re aware of our true stature we can feel a part of something much more vast than we could ever have dreamed of before.”

A week ago on Sunday, the weather was forecast to be sunny and warm, with highs in the 70s. My surfing buddy and I decided it was time to transition from snow boards to surfboards. We left town early to hit the windless morning session at Short Sands. Bingo!! It felt so good to be back in the water again, just as it does on that first powder day in the fall.

We finished our session just as the crowds arrived and resolved to call it a day. As our wetsuits dried on the rocks, we decided to walk to the waterfall at the north end of the beach, while along the way fulfilling our usual garbage pick up ritual. At first glance, we noticed an unusual amount of trash, most particularly plastic. We both agreed we had never seen so much before. Upon closer inspection, we realized what we were seeing. Intermingled in the organic debris at the high water mark were millions of tiny plastic bits. The Gyre!

My elation was quickly replaced with hopelessness. It was impossible to pick up all this plastic on the beach. I took some comfort in knowing that as other beach-goers realized what we were doing, they too joined in the endeavor.
Before leaving the beach we stopped along the high-point of the coastal highway, just north of Manzanita, in hopes of observing whales. We were rewarded with many sightings of migrating Grey whales. I worried about them, knowing that they were baleen whales and they would most certainly encounter the debris we just found.

Just today there is a news report of garbage found in stomach of dead whale washed up on West Seattle Beach. Not two days prior, a baby Grey Whale washed up on the beach in Oregon, the same day we watched whales from high above the cliffs.

My first surfing day of the season was filled with so many highs and so many lows. I am inspired to act. I’ll be at the beach again this weekend, picking up my favorite beach. This week I will bring extra bags to hand out too.

Whether your passion is on land or at the sea, join me in my quest to help clean up. Carry out more than you bring in. Contact your local chapter of Surfrider Foundation or check out any of the many National Environmental Organizations to find out how you can help.

File under “pure unadulterated fun”: April 3rd was World Pillow Fight Day. So here, for your viewing enjoyment we present to you two and a half minutes of feather-flying awesomeness.

(via Chris Crutchfield on Vimeo)

On March 20th, an unusual vessel set sail from San Francisco on a voyage across the Pacific. Skippered by adventurer and millionaire banking scion David de Rothschild, the Plastiki is a 60-foot catamaran made from—among other things—12,500 recycled plastic bottles, and rigged with masts of reclaimed irrigation piping. De Rothschild is hoping that his planned 100-day voyage will raise awareness of the threat that plastic waste poses to our oceans, and the possibilities presented by employing recycled materials.

I want to like this project: it’s creative, it’s courageous, its heart is in the right place. The issues it’s highlighting are important, and of real consequence to the earth’s oceans. But I’m conflicted. As a full-length article in The New Yorker (subscription required for full article) makes clear, this isn’t as simple as a bunch of friends building a boat out of used bottles and setting sail across the ocean. (That’s already been done, by The Junk Raft, which sailed from Long Beach, CA to Hawaii in 2008). De Rothschild seems committed to the idea that the only way to raise awareness of any value is through a highly produced, incredibly expensive project—with corporate sponsors at IWC Watches and HP computers along for the ride. Then there’s the construction of the boat itself, which seems to blur the line between ‘recyceld’ to ‘recyclable.’ It’s great they’re using those materials, but is it worth the energy—and the very real carbon emissions and waste that result? It’s a bit like the Prius: the fuel economy may be better, but you have to wonder if that ever offsets the impact of its a batteries and construction. And in the end, I wonder, does it really make sense—good, world-changing design sense, I mean—to make a boat out of plastic bottles? Is it designed for sustainability or publicity? As Mike Rose, one of the boat’s builders, is quoted as saying, “We’re deliberately building something that’s stupid.”

If you want to change the world, you have to inspire people. And my hat goes off to de Rothschild for his audacity and commitment to his project. But I have trouble reconciling the potential positive impact with Plastiki’s construction. It raises a question: how much awareness do you have to raise to offset the impact of doing the trip in the first place?

At what point does it become an eco-stunt?

Filed under “where are they nau,” today we caught up with former Nau product designer Ethan Smith to talk a bit about his current endeavor, The Kamchatka Project. In addition to his creative talents, Ethan is a Class V+ whitewater kayaker, meaning he racks up more vertical feet of descent on a single waterfall drop than most of us do in an entire season. This summer, he and a team of paddlers (including filmmaker Bryan Smith, whose work has appeared on The Collective) are headed to the Kamchatka Peninsula in eastern Siberia on a National Geographic Society-sponsored journey of exploration and discovery. While making first descents of rivers never before explored by people, he’s hoping to bring back stories that can help protect one of the earth’s last remaining truly wild places.

The Thought Kitchen: So why Kamchatka? And how’d you even hear about this place?

Ethan Smith: It is one of the last truly last truly wild places on earth. It’s where roughly one-fourth of all pacific salmon spawn, it has some of the densest brown bear populations in the world, and more than anything it’s just a place that hasn’t been developed. A lot of people have described Kamchatka Peninsula as what Lewis and Clark must have seen when they came into the Pacific Northwest: same kind of terrain, same kind of forest, same kind of Salmon-based ecosystem. And we think that it needs attention. Read More »

What’s your favorite night skiing spot?

Since moving to Oregon three and a half years ago, one of my favorite winter rituals has become the after-work night ski. With a packed car waiting and long-johns tucked under my work clothes, I duck out of work at 5pm on the button, pick up a few friends, and head for the hills. Soon, rush hour traffic is behind us, route 26 opens up ahead and—on a clear night—the peach-colored slopes of Mt. Hood loom out of the gathering darkness.

This year has been a tough one for skiing on Mt. Hood. After a few early November dumps, the freezing level climbed back up toward an unusually bare summit, leaving many of us with nothing to do but sit in Portland and watch the rain streak down our windows.  But that’s only made more special the few recent late-season dumps, including this past Wednesday when a modest 4” returned Mt. Hood Ski Bowl to form.

It made me think it was time to follow up on Josie’s “Ski Poll” post from last December. An informal survey here in the office saw Ski Bowl as the unanimous favorite: It’s close to town, just well enough lit, and has three of the best beer stubes you could ask for to warm your fingers and toes. But from modest bumps like Bradford Hill in Haverhill, MA to the (often icy) steeps of Snow King in Jackson Hole, WY, there are a lot of contenders. What’s your favorite?

Check out today’s Cool Hunting feature on Asymbol, pro snowboarder Travis Rice’s new fine art gallery. Offering limited edition prints of photographs and paintings might not seem a natural turn for a pro rider still taking home titles from the X-games, but the collection of snow and surf inspired works show Rice’s tastes extend well beyond double cork 1260’s. In particular, don’t miss Jeff Curtes‘ moody mountain images and the warped, monumental tension of Trent Mitchell’s Australian waves.

Equally impressive is Asymbol’s environmental commitment, contributing 5% of all proceeds to the Action Sports Environmental Coalition and Protect Our Winters. Says Rice of giving back, “And since we owe the environment we take from while we reap the rewards of its bounty, a portion of our proceeds will be donated to nonprofit organizations that are working to raise environmental and social awareness and accountability in the action-sports world.”

Works sell directly from Asymbol’s site in a variety of sizes, from $300 to $1,300.

(via Cool Hunting)

The outdoor industry is collectively mourning a terrible loss with the recent deaths of climbers Jonny Copp and Wade Johnson. They and fellow climber Micah Dash (who is, as of this writing, still missing) were attempting a new route on Mt. Edgar’s Minya Konka massif, in China’s Western Sichuan Province, when an apparent avalanche swept across their path.

I only knew Micah and Wade distantly, and send love, strength and condolences to their families and friends, as have hundreds of people from all over the world, whose support continues to stream in at an impressive volume via Facebook and the Adventure Film Festival blog. (Facebook, I am learning, can have some real heart, when used toward the good of a thing.)

Jonny was an early member of Nau’s community of Influencers, those artists, athletes, and activists who unabashedly rock our world through their authentic pursuit of their passions in outdoor sport, design, and environmental and social activism.

We established the Influencers early on, knowing we would need a community of peers not only to review our products each season, but also to keep us real; to remind us, when wandering astray, of our priorities, which are, simply put, to move, be moved, and move others.

Through his work as a climber, photographer, filmmaker, and Director of the Adventure Film Festival in Boulder, Jonny was, in his never tiring, slightly goofy, and always humble way, an Influencer to a tee.

As the photo editor at Nau, I first met Jonny through his eyes. I was immediately drawn to his photographs and films, not only for the way they captured the breathtaking rarity of the people and places he knew, but also for their clarity and honesty. There wasn’t a lot of clutter, just clean lines, clear faces, and a direct route from me, the viewer, to the essence of whatever he was trying to convey, whether it was to get me outside, to show me someone’s spirit, or to make me laugh my ass off. His view to the world was rare, curious, courageous, real, fresh, funny, and inspiring.

As was Jonny himself. During Nau 1.0, we met or spoke every few months, and I always looked forward to those meetings. I was impressed (given his lifestyle) with his ability to sit still, to look me in the eye, hear what I had to say, offer constructive feedback, and to tell tales of his mindblowing adventures without ever spinning off into a space of self-congratulatory bravado.

We tossed around how, then when, we could fold his work into our ever-evolving efforts at Nau. Things never lined up, not for lack of trying, but only because Jonny was always about to leave, or already gone, off to his next best thing.

There never seems to be enough time. This can be an annoying thing, but occasionally a good thing, too. Jonny made the most of this – not wasting a single moment of his very full, but far too short, life. Thinking about my own experience of this man, I am also reminded that sometimes a blip in time is all it takes to reveal a powerful force. I did not need to know him for years to recognize how profound Jonny’s impact on our world would be.

I will miss his bright eyes, his crushing hug, and his ear-to-ear smile, but I will not miss his inspiration, because that will stay right here, in his lasting work and in my mind, a little nudge from Jonny here and there, keeping me motivated, keeping me real.

Love to you, Jonny Copp.

Love to the crew at Sender Films, too, who, along with everyone at Adventure Film Festival, are still working around the clock to find Micah and bring these guys home.

Learn how you can help here.

(photos gently borrowed from coppworks.com and adventurefilm.org, and I am hoping that in this case it’s ok…)