The middle portion of PTO: Prioritize Time Outdoors is called No Really, Let’s Get Out There. This section is intended to be a mostly fun, though occasionally serious, hop through the hurdles that hold us back and understanding how we can clear those hurdles. These obstacles range from more basic concerns about bears, bathrooming in the wild, and sleeping on the ground all the way to more intrinsic obstacles like being heavy or not being white.
Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 7: “Comfort Obstacles” (It’s Dirty)
“I was describing this book project to a work colleague one day, telling her of my desire to share more of the outdoors with people like her. Within seconds, she politely and humorously interjected, “Um…yeah, I like hotels!” She went on to explain that although she was happy to join friends for a day outing from time to time, she nonetheless felt the need to go home, get clean, and sleep in a regular bed afterwards. It was a light moment, but it was an instructive one for me all the same.
“It’s true, many types of nature activities will leave one feeling a little “natural.” It’s not that we’re all out there rolling around in the mud: Just a basic hike on a hot day will cause us to sweat, which in turn causes more dust and dirt in the atmosphere to stick to your body. Getting a little dirty is just part of what we sign up for. A century ago, this wouldn’t have been a common concern: The American economy was more bound to the soil, and our homes and workplaces weren’t as sanitized as they are now. Only in today’s postmodern society are we driven to sweat mostly under controlled circumstances (such as the gym) and wash ourselves every day.
“To which I say…go! Get dirty! Reconnect with Mother Earth! It’s good for us. Being “too clean” brings its own problems. Of course we need to do everything we can to avoid infections and contaminations, but beyond those concerns, exposure to dirt and microbes makes us healthier, not sicker. Antibiotic resistance is a real thing, and epidemiologist David Strachan, M.D.’s “hygiene hypothesis” has credibly shown that lack of microbial exposure in industrialized countries has greatly increased rates of allergic diseases.[i]
“When our eldest was five years old, Cristina and I enrolled him in his first summer daycamp program through the YMCA. He rode a bus to Camp DayCroix outside Hudson, Wisconsin, where the facilities included one overhead shelter but little else in the way of indoor structures. The kids were literally outside all day long. When we picked him up from the bus that first Monday, he was dirtier than ever before – a regular Pigpen bouncing down the steps – but his beaming smile shone through all the grime. His time at DayCroix helped set a pattern and a desire for outdoor activity, which he continues to exercise, and since then he’s been as healthy as any young person I know. (Sure, this may be correlation over causation, but I’d rather experience outdoor play over a bowl of chicken soup any day.)
“Beyond our microbial hygiene, the simple act of breaking through the mental need to be clean all the time can be incredibly freeing. Remember the young man in Chapter 1 who lost his sandals and walked barefoot on the ground for the first time? He experienced a sense of joy and freedom he’d not previously felt, all because his basic footwear – his simple, protective barrier – had always stood between him and the earth. Devin Brown, the kayaker we met in Chapter 4, shares this joy as well. “It’s like standing in grass,” she says. “Once you connect to nature like that, you’ll want more and more of it. So many people don’t stand in the grass barefoot. It’s the best feeling in the world.”
“So go out there and get dirty. Sweat a bit, walk barefoot, play in the mud. Be a kid again. Your home or a hotel will always be there waiting for you – and, speaking from personal experience, you’ll never have a better shower than the one that washes off several days’ worth of nature.”
Erik Lien 