HINDSIGHT

Interviewer: Whenever you're ready. All right, Elyse, could you walk us through your motivation for creating The Outdoorsman's Footprint and what made this experience so memorable for you? Elyse: Yeah. I actually wrote the essay/article for a class. It was a technical writing class. As engineers, we have to take a class on technical writing, and we wrote an essay about some sort of sustainability topic. I had just gone with the Alpine Club on an outdoor climbing trip that had a really big impact on me. It was my first time climbing outside, so I knew that was what I wanted to write about. And even though I'm an engineer, I've always really liked writing—it's always been something I've done as a hobby. So I wanted to not only write about my experience in a concrete sustainability way, but also do a little bit of storytelling, which I was glad to be able to do. So yeah, I'd say that's what made it memorable. I was able to find the time in college to write again—to argue for a point, but also have a little fun with it. Interviewer: All right. And to follow up with that, how did you first hear about the Changing Skies Journal, and what made you want to submit your piece and try to be a part of it? Elyse: Yeah, I first heard about the journal from my professor. He read my essay and thought it was really cool. He encouraged not only me but many people in the class to submit our essays. I did some research into what the Changing Skies Journal is, because I wanted to see what types of things you all publish. And yeah, I was interested and thought it’d be a good fit. I’ve never had something of mine published officially, so I was excited to do that. Interviewer: Awesome. So, going into your story a little bit, how much did you know about Georgetown and Guanella Pass? Did you have to do a lot of research, or when you were there, what was it about the scenery that really stuck with you? Elyse: Yeah, I didn’t know anything about Guanella Pass or Georgetown at all. I'm not even from this state—I'm from California. So a lot of the things I've learned about Colorado have either come from hearing other people or from my own interest. While I was on that trip, I didn’t know I was going to write about it later, but I kept noticing all the old mining remnants that were decaying up in the mountains. I thought that was really interesting. Even if I didn’t end up writing about it, I probably would have looked into it anyway. That’s what inspired me to do research. I had to do a lot of it—especially to find the documents I referenced. But I think that really helped shape what I would end up arguing for. And yeah, I just thought the area was really beautiful. It had a real impact on me. Interviewer: Right. We talked a little earlier about your being a rock climber, and in your piece, you discussed the environmental impacts of rock climbing—something I didn’t even know about until I read it. So how do you navigate those environmental impacts when you're climbing, and how do you stay aware of them moving forward? Elyse: Yeah. That’s something I struggled with while writing the article—how to soften what I was saying about rock climbing. Because in reality, I’m going to continue climbing, and I am going to keep using chalk, right? But I think—and I tried to highlight this—I think there are other things that are much more impactful on the environment than climbing. What I tried to express at the end is that it’s just important to spread awareness and try to strike a balance. Even though I might not make drastic changes to my climbing habits, I might be more conscious or more conservation-minded in other ways. And even though the piece was framed as a rock climbing story, I think what really interested me while writing was the urbanization of the area. Because yes, rock climbing has its impacts, but I think the mining, the town of Georgetown, and the paving of the roads—those are far more important issues to highlight. Especially when looking toward other areas that are less urbanized than Guanella Pass, I think we can use this as a lesson to maybe slow human encroachment in those places. Interviewer: Totally. So then, talking about the journal a bit—what do you like or dislike about climate change awareness being communicated through creative nonfiction, as opposed to more direct or scientific methods? Elyse: I think climate change—especially how we publicize it—is a really interesting issue. In the class I took, we read multiple different types of essays on climate change. I think our generation, especially, is so bombarded by climate change stories and scary facts that we're either terrified and depressed, or we go the other extreme—where some people don’t even believe it’s real and think it’s all propaganda. So, creative nonfiction softens it a bit. It’s kind of unfortunate that we have to do that, but even for me—when I read the more frightening climate articles—it just freaks me out. It doesn’t really make me change my behavior. So I think trying to produce something that’s enjoyable to read but still offers small, actionable steps is better than being scared into inaction. Interviewer: So with your piece specifically, what do you hope its impact will be on the people who read it? Elyse: I think the intended audience was more of the rock climber, outdoorsy type of person. But I didn’t want them to necessarily change their climbing habits. I hoped it would make people more eager to protect areas like Guanella from roads, towns, and mining—things like that. And I think that’s already happening, at least in Colorado from what I’ve seen—there are state parks and places that are specifically conserved by the government. Those are really important to maintain. One of my biggest inspirations while writing the narrative part at the beginning was John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row. If you've read it, it's about Monterey, CA, back when it was really industrialized and centered around sardine fishing. The way he describes it—especially in the first few paragraphs—is really impactful. Now when you go to Monterey, it’s like a conservationist paradise. It’s not overfished, there are no disgusting factories. So I think that if you can describe a place in a way that makes the reader feel connected to it, they’ll be more eager to protect it. Interviewer: Totally. And then your call to action at the end of the piece seems to be about finding a balance between people getting outside and enjoying nature while still preserving those ecosystems. You already touched on it, but how do you think we can do a better job maintaining that balance? Elyse: I think especially being in Colorado, most of us consider ourselves pretty outdoorsy. It’s easy for us to feel like we’re already doing enough—or to focus only on fighting the bigger battles, like fossil fuel companies and so on. And while I do think those battles are important, I was trying to express that there can be a balance. Even though we’re not perfect, there are small changes we can make in our lives that can still have an impact. Interviewer: Totally. I probably should’ve ended on that, but here’s my last question: What do you like about creative nonfiction as a medium for telling a personal story? Not just about climate change—but any kind of personal experience? Elyse: I love writing, as I said—and creative nonfiction is my favorite form of writing. It’s what I do the most. For me, I feel like I never really understand the impact an experience had on me—or even how I feel about something—until I write about it. Most of the important events in my life, I’ve written something about them. It’s a really cool medium. Framing something as a story that’s also arguing for something adds a layer of meaning that you maybe didn’t notice at first. Something that seemed mundane—like being tired, underdressed, eating cold pizza—can take on a whole new meaning after writing about it. I think that’s really powerful.