For snow enthusiasts, the holds a mythical power. Published in late summer, these reports detail just how long and how intense the upcoming cold season will be and have become the unofficial gold standard for winter predictions. But long before we started listening to an aging guy with a pitchfork and a weather obsession, we looked to natural indicators for our long-term weather info.

These old wives’ tales prediction methods were likely more entertaining than accurate, ranging from the innocuous to the bizarre. Still, they鈥檝e had some serious staying power. Not sure about throwing all your eggs in the 础濒尘补苍补肠鈥檚 basket? Here鈥檚 a few alternative ways to see what might be in store for the winter months ahead.

1. Mushrooms Galore, Much Snow in Store

A rhyme too good to not accept as hard evidence, this old wives鈥� tale points toward our fungi friends as the ultimate winter weather predictor. Your going a little too well? It might be time to start practicing those mushroom soup recipes, because it鈥檚 about to get real deep out there.

2. Thicker Woolly Caterpillar Bands

These fuzzy are known for their colorful band of red-brown in between its two black ends. Some years, the black bands are thicker than the middle red-brown section, indicating an intense winter to come, or so they say.

3. Fatter Squirrels, Fatter Snowpack

If rabbits and look a little rounder than usual, they could be loading up for a harsh winter ahead. This method doesn鈥檛 necessarily work for humans, but it doesn鈥檛 mean many of us won鈥檛 give it a go.

4. Deeper the Mole Hole鈥�

A popular old adage said that a harsh winter could be predicted by simply measuring your nearest . If it鈥檚 deeper than 2.5 feet, a nasty winter is ahead. Anything shallower points toward a milder cold season. The logic here makes sense, as deep freezes can solidify surfaces and make burrowing more difficult for underground dwellers. Alright, now where鈥檚 the measuring tape?

5. Mo Acorns, Mo Problems

According to popular amateur science, an abundance of fallen means you should probably buy that insulated ski jacket. If you need any more convincing, a thicker-than-normal shell indicates a colder winter. That鈥檚 nuts!

6. November Holds the Key

This might be the strangest of the bunch, while providing the most solid predictions of the winter to come.

鈥淚ce in November to bury a duck, the rest of winter is slush and muck.鈥�

This lyrical ode suggests that November weather is the key for understanding the longterm winter forecast. A cold, icy November is often proceeded by a wet and messy winter. Ask many a backcountry skier and they鈥檒l vouch for this, as early season cold can lead to big headaches in the traditionally snowy months.

The post The Best Old Wives’ Tales for Predicting an Epic Ski Season appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

David Mesfin was coming up empty. The prompt seemed simple enough: 鈥淏lack man with a surfboard.鈥� Over and over, he typed it into the search bar, and over and over, the same glaring blind spot came up on his computer screen. Was this the best AI could do? Something felt off.

鈥淲hen I searched鈥he program would end up giving me a white man with dark skin holding a board,鈥� recalls Mesfin. 鈥淏lack people, Black surfers, just weren鈥檛 part of the data set.鈥�

The filmmaker and agency creative director had just spent the last year filming and producing 鈥淲ade in the Water,鈥� a documentary about the primarily overlooked 1,000-year history of Black surfing. As a Black creative producing a film about Black representation in water sports, the moment hit with acute irony. Even after producing a film that proved Black people were participating in water sports, leading-edge technology had no evidence of their existence. And the online imagery gap didn鈥檛 stop at surfers. The more Mesfin looked, the more he found the lack of Black鈥攁nd all BIPOC鈥攆aces extended to all outdoors imagery, then to photos in workplaces, schools, and homes.

However, instead of being discouraged by the lack of visual references in AI and the rapidly evolving world of information and technology, Mesfin saw an opportunity to rewire the machine. Enlisting the help of Pocstock, a BIPOC imagery database, and dozens of other creative agencies, Mesfin and his team at Innocean have begun Refacing the Future. This project not only re-trains popular AI models for industry leaders like OpenAI, Google, and Microsoft to support imagery of people of color, but also creates the first AI guidebook on how to continue diversifying those datasets for years to come.

鈥淲e need a broader group of people that can actually look at this technology and what is being developed,鈥� explains Mesfin. 鈥淚f you鈥檙e going to create a tool for the world, it should represent the world accurately, right?鈥�

The outdoors is no stranger to the pitfalls of misrepresentation, just ask the generations of BIPOC skiers, surfers, hikers, and climbers that watched white athletes dominate the videos, ad spreads, and magazine pages of their youth. Mesfin grew up consuming that same media, watching athletes who didn鈥檛 look like him in between paddle outs around St. Augustine, Florida. Eventually, though, he did find other surfers of color, realizing that much of what he saw on the silver screen simply reflected the perspectives of its (white) creators.

In many ways, he feels the same about AI.

鈥淪peaking to under-representation, I think it鈥檚 simply because of the individuals that are behind creating the content or technology,鈥� explains Mesfin.

Throughout the short history of generative AI, those individuals have typically been both white and male.

Additionally, these language learning models draw from already published material to populate their program, material that continues to perpetuate biases and stereotypes across generations.

鈥淢edia has always painted a negative image of BIPOC communities鈥e鈥檝e never been represented in our true sense,鈥� says Mesfin. 鈥淸AI] is picking up on those things, those stereotypes鈥攊t鈥檚 reflecting what鈥檚 already out there.鈥�

When the algorithm fails to recognize antiquated depictions of people of color, it often misidentifies them altogether. A federal study in 2019 concluded that Asian and Black people were up to 100 times more likely to be incorrectly identified or depicted by AI models in comparison to white men. While advancements have been made in the technology over the last few years, it鈥檚 still easy to find holes in the ship. Innocean points to the Asian dentists that make up 22 percent of the entire U.S. dentist population. When AI is asked to generate an image of a dentist, an Asian person only appears 2.3 percent of the time.

Refacing the Future is working to eliminate these digital information shortcomings by strategically flooding the system with information. Mesfin says an alliance with Pocstock, an image database featuring over 1.8 million images of people of color, has provided the initiative a platform to stand on, but considers the way Pocstock organizes these images to be the key to a more equitable online future. Each image in Pocstock鈥檚 database is manually tagged for skin tone, gender, race, age, and a range of other cultural data, which makes it easier for AI models to identify and incorporate these details into auto-generating image processes. With Refacing the Future, the alliance aims to collect more of these photos and intentionally attach these kinds of physical identifiers to each one, making the information more readily available for popular image-generating technologies and helping to train the models to see the world in all its color.

From there, Innocean has identified 22 other creative agencies to produce BIPOC-specific media, not only to host imagery and video on the Pocstock platform but also to tag and make that work available to OpenAI, Canva, Google, and other diversity data-starved AI models. The result? According to Refacing the Future鈥檚 website, over 16 BIPOC photographers are working to produce 96,000 pieces of original media within a year. Hispanic skateboarders, Native American watermen and waterwomen, Asian snowboarders鈥攁 list of historical blind spots shrinking by the day.

As the database continues to grow, Refacing the Future has also prioritized establishing what that growth will look like. For one, the guidebook encourages creative agencies to curate photoshoots with diverse talent (including those behind the lens). Additionally, the guidebook provides creative resources and cultural curators that can help media producers steer a more inclusive course.

Currently, AI is a powerful tool without a clear code of conduct, something Mesfin and others see as an opportunity to establish some good practice ground rules. That鈥檚 why Refacing the Future published the first BIPOC AI guidebook, a comprehensive tool for agencies and creatives to explore who to shoot, how to shoot, how to prepare files, and how to tag, all to eliminate bias.

鈥淚 want to hand agencies this guidebook and say, 鈥楬ey, here鈥檚 how we did it,鈥欌�� explains Mesfin. 鈥淗ere鈥檚 how you can find photographers, how you should approach your photoshoots. That way it can be more a reflection of the community and authentically capture the demographic.鈥�

Still in its early stages, Refacing the Future has identified several areas for improvement, including the representation of women in STEM fields and the changing roles of women in the household. However, when Mesfin was tapped to produce his creative shoot for the newly established platform, he returned to what he knew best: the ocean.

On a sunny day last February, Mesfin and a team of photographers and surfers of color descended on Huntington Pier in Southern California. The ocean spray cast a morning chill, but the air was warm as the crew walked toward the iconic wooden pylons. It all felt like a full circle, as Mesfin was now charged with filling a gap he had identified during his fruitless internet search just a few years prior.

One of the photographers, Kory Lamberts, had met Mesfin at Great Day in the Stoke, the largest gathering of Black surfers in the world, and felt inspired by the creative director鈥檚 vision. When the call came to join up for this first Refacing the Future project, Lamberts knew he needed to be a part of it.

鈥淗ere was this chance to reshape and recreate the future from the lens of people that haven鈥檛 been able to tell it yet,鈥� he explains. 鈥淚t鈥檚 time we figure out a way to move forward with these technologies to utilize them for our communities.鈥�

With four athletes in the water and photographers both on land and ducking waves, the team stacked shots and videos that would later make their way to Pocstock and further into today鈥檚 popular AI modeling programs, letting a new digital world know exactly who they are.

The post When AI Failed to See Who Belongs Outdoors, This Photographer Set Out to Re-Train It appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

My mom used to call them 鈥渘ature trips.鈥� The vague, almost pleasant-sounding descriptor was meant to offset my childhood terror, but honestly, pooping outside was always anxiety-inducing. What if I fell over? Could I lean back far enough for adequate clearance? Were there, like, snakes around here?

However, the doubts that swirled through my mind were often unfounded. Eventually, with time and practice, the process got easier, the release more relaxed. OK, maybe I wasn鈥檛 jumping up and down with excitement every time duty called in the backcountry, but I no longer dreaded the task.

Through the years, I鈥檝e even become an advocate for the dirtbound dump. It鈥檚 not a perfect science, but neither is the act itself鈥攊n any setting. A recent article in The Cut titled 鈥溾�� provides a new level of evidence-based vindication. According to the piece by Katie Arnold-Ratliff, hemorrhoids, the painful inflammation of veins in the anus, now affect one out of three Americans who go in for a colonoscopy. Given that recommended first colonoscopies have been bumped up to 45 years old from 50, and a noted rise in hemorrhoids cases by gastrointestinal experts, it seems that the anal affliction is trending younger across the board.

There are plenty of factors that lead to hemorrhoids, but one generational change in behavior stuck out above the rest. Hanging on the toilet for too long unfurls an almost guaranteed path to hemorrhoids, meaning that your brainless bathroom scrolling might actually be putting you at risk for developing the painful condition. Bet you didn鈥檛 see that one on your Instagram feed.

But you know what鈥檚 hard to do while popping a squat behind an exposed rock outcropping? Checking your dang phone. Going to the bathroom outdoors is a full-body experience, one that requires strength, balance, focus, and a dash of determination. There isn鈥檛 room for liking your celebrity crush鈥檚 newest fitness craze. Pooping in these conditions demands presence. Determining the right setting for the job and finding some useful balance points (I鈥檝e had success with fallen logs or two small trees for hand leverage) become your biggest concerns. No need to wipe down the toilet seat either鈥攖here isn鈥檛 one!

Backcountry relief is about getting the job done and getting back on the trail quickly. By design, there is no lingering in this loo. Most of the time this is out of necessity鈥攐ur vulnerable bits don鈥檛 typically love starring in the nature experience鈥攂ut the added medical insight provides another reason to keep it short and sweet.

There will always be a place for your porcelain throne, and the bidet might just be the Eighth Wonder of the World. Still, the verdict is overwhelmingly in: pooping outdoors isn鈥檛 just for emergencies鈥攊t鈥檚 for your health.

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Cars are tools, not jewels. Just ask my friend Brian and his Fiat 500. While I eye-rolled him for years from a place of Subaru superiority, Brian, with the help of his trusty mini-steed (adventure pony, perhaps?), logged more trail hours than our entire friend group combined. We all spent time on mods, maintenance, and the mechanic bills that went with them. Brian, however, tucked his ego away and found the whip that not only did the job but kept him out on the open road. Oh, and parking? Yeah, that guy zipped circles around us every day of the week.

When it came time to upgrade my wheels recently, I scanned forums and used car sites, hoping to find the next dream vehicle to support my outdoors lifestyle鈥攚hile still holding onto my Seattle city existence. If the onslaught of recommendations and ranking was dizzying, the price tags were downright vertigo-inducing. Sick of it all, I remembered Brian. Maybe I鈥檇 been barking up the wrong tree entirely. Maybe I didn鈥檛 actually want a fancy adventuremobile. After all, a sedan could get me to the trailhead just fine.

There鈥檚 a lot to love about a mobile basecamp, but do I really need it? After years of being groomed to think that I had to wake up on a memory foam mattress in my vaulted ceiling Sprinter van, accompanied by a nice pour-over courtesy of my solar-powered built-in stovetop, I had to take a hard look at some facts. First off, I don鈥檛 even drink coffee. Second, I live 45 minutes from the trailhead鈥攚hat am I doing exploring a second home (and mortgage) on wheels?

As a casual hiker, my car should be a means to a trail鈥檚 end; get me there and let my body do the rest. The thing isn鈥檛 bagging peaks, so why does it need all of the hypothetical gear to do so (rope, axe, first aid kit, shovel, etc.) strapped to its exterior while it sits in the parking lot? At this stage of my outdoors recreating, everything I need is in my pack. The rest is just an advertisement for a product I鈥檓 not equipped to sell.

The more I pull back the layers of my adventure rig conditioning, the more I realize how personal of a problem this has become鈥攁nd how easy it is to solve. Find the right tool for the project. If it鈥檚 a four-wheel drive minivan for your ski adventures, great. If it鈥檚 a smart car with just enough room to strap down your canoe, hey, that鈥檒l get it done. Nobody ever talks about the shiniest hammer, but they鈥檒l always remember a job well done.

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We pulled into the Crescent City KOA around 10 P.M. After a long day exploring the nearby , my travel partner and I were beat鈥攁nd pretty sure we had to be the last people awake in this quiet seaside town.

Wrong. Rounding the corner into the rows of campers and tents, we were greeted by a light show, arrays of colorful LED strips illuminating big RVs, covered dining canopies, and even strung into bike wheels. The whole world still seemed to be at play, with twangy country music wafting down the lane and glowsticked, sugar-high kids running to and fro.

My friend looked at me in a state disbelief; this was a far cry from the nature experience she鈥檇 expected on her visit from San Francisco. But I knew the rest of our road trip to Seattle would be far more off the grid, and honestly, there鈥檚 something to these kinds of established campgrounds鈥攖he sound, the randomness, the sheer chaos鈥攖hat is hard to replicate.

It didn鈥檛 take long to fall asleep, especially after our full day and an end to the music just a half hour later. We curled up in our tent and threw some eye masks on, blocking out the neon light and fading into Dreamland.

The next morning, we took advantage of the campground鈥檚 free pancake breakfast. Sliding up with our coffee and thick stack of hot cakes, we sat next to a smiling older couple dressed in matching flannel pajamas. If there was any reminder we weren鈥檛 in the woods, or anywhere close, they were it. Randy wore a mustache over a morning smile. Wendy, tucked by his side, looked at us with eyes shining, nodding in approval before we鈥檇 even said a word. They both spoke with excitement, curious about our plans and eager to share about their RV trip up the coast of California.

Randy and Wendy made a point of staying exclusively at established campgrounds along their yearly road trips, favoring the KOA chain for its on-ground swimming pool and, of course, the free breakfast. They had started their own jerky company decades before (in fact, did we want some?), and were settled into semi-retired life on the road. They loved camping, but said one of the best parts of travel was meeting new people everywhere they went.

During my decade pitching tents around the West, the point had mainly been to get away from everything and everyone. But, as I stayed at the campground chain, I saw a different side to camping: the communal one. Camping isn鈥檛 a singular box. For many people, the joy of just getting out of the house for a night or two is an adventure in and of itself. I always thought that was a good thing to remember鈥攅ven if it didn鈥檛 feel natural right away.

As Wendy welcomed more people to the table鈥攁 small family from San Jose鈥擱andy returned with two bags of cured meat. We stayed a little longer before clearing off our plates and heading back to pack the car. It wouldn鈥檛 be long before we were back on the road, winding up the Oregon coastline and into the depths of Washington鈥檚 Olympic Peninsula. Over the next few weeks we would swim in the Pacific, climb mountains, skinny dip in hot springs, and sleep deep in the woods. It was, in many ways, the trip of our young lifetimes. Years later and states apart, we still reminisce about it like it. But we rarely recount the off-path adventures or the wild serenity of the Pacific Northwest. We talk about Randy and Wendy.

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It鈥檚 ultrarunning season, and people around the world are stepping out to do the impossible. Fifty miles feels like a lot, but hey why not double it? These mammoths of mileage have unlocked a new level of human potential, but as heroic as their achievements may be, there is still so much mystery when it comes to going the distance.

After careful consideration, we鈥檝e put together six questions that we want to ask an ultramarathoner but have been too afraid to pursue. Hey folks, there are just some things we need to know.

1. Do You Have Toenails?

Long runs over uneven, rocky trail comes with its share of foot issues, but few sacrifices are greater than those poor keratin creatures attached to your precious foot fingers. Give us the in-shoe scoop: How many of those bad boys do you lose every race and how quick do they grow back? For many ultramarathoners, this seems to be par for the racecourse, but is there a way to strengthen your nails for another round? Anyone out there taking them out for good?

2. What鈥檚 Your Nip Game?

Maximum mileage spells a whole lot of extra friction in those exposed places. For most racers, nipples bear the brunt of it, channeling chafage on a level us normal mile loggers can鈥檛 fully grasp. So how do you prepare for this inevitable rub fest? Are we talking bandages, tape, Vaseline, or something even burlier? When it comes to nipple chafing, are some shirts better than others? How about no shirts? We feel for your chesticles, we really do.

3. Where Does Your Mind Wander?

You鈥檝e got 100 miles (or more) ahead of you鈥攖hat鈥檚 a lot of think time. What are you thinking about? Do you keep it reigned in or let it roam? Counting steps seems like a miserable endeavor, so are there other ways to pass that time instead of one foot in front of the other? It also seems like some prime time for developing a few really hot takes or solving some of the world鈥檚 pressing problems. Give it to us. We need answers!

4. Poo in the Shoe

We鈥檝e all seen the photos: that trickle of not-so-mysterious brown snaking down your leg at mile 75. Poop happens, especially over 100 miles of body-jostling, calorie-evaporating singletrack. So, what goes down when that tummy starts to rumble? Do you have a poo plan? What鈥檚 the strategy when the time is now and your next aid station is miles away? Are there any unwritten rules for in-race relief?

5. Your Best Kept Vest Secret

There are only so many power gels in the world; what鈥檚 an item that makes your running vest unique? Are you bringing trails snacks for your furry mountain friends? A little extra Bag Balm for the undercarriage? Crystals for energetic intervention? We鈥檙e all built a little different, but what’s the secret pocket treasure that gives you a leg up?

6. Do You Ever Fall Asleep Running?

Serious question! The combination of fatigue, meditation, and sheer time on the trail makes for one heck of a backcountry lullaby. Do you ever just鈥od off while running? When things get a little sleepy, what are the best ways to keep your race on track? We鈥檙e aware of the hallucinations and tears, but sometimes being tired goes even further. Are the sleepy scaries ever too much?

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There鈥檚 no humble way to say it: I was absolutely crushing the hike. Feet flying over open trail, I weaved my way in and out of casual walkers and the occasional leashed canine. The forest towered above as my track pitched upward, and I savored the extra burn while I pushed farther from the parking lot.

Mount Storm King on Washington鈥檚 Olympic Peninsula loomed above the deep blue waters of Lake Crescent, a silent watchman over some of our country鈥檚 wildest wilderness. It was also home to a short, steep route that offered incredible views and enough next-day soreness to feel like a real badge of honor.

I鈥檇 been preparing for a trail marathon, and the four-mile out-and-back was just another training day. That is, until I hit the saddle. 聽There in front of me rose a rocky scramble to a tiny summit clearing. A little to the left, however, existed nothing but open air down to the forest floor. My knee twitched. I felt the sweat dripping off my palms, and suddenly the world started to vibrate a little. My feet made the final call: we weren鈥檛 going anywhere.

I鈥檇 dealt with plenty of exposure both on skis and on belay, but this intermediate scramble had me shook. I sat down and watched as all the parties I had passed slowly plodded their way up the scramble without issue. I felt like crying. Instead, I buried my sorrows in the sandwich I鈥檇 pulled from my backpack. There was no way I could tell my friends鈥攎y mountain partners鈥攁bout coming up so embarrassingly short.

Instead of turning tail and heading downhill, I sat with that thought for a bit. From the saddle, I could see the lake nestled between green peaks. Beyond, the Strait of Juan de Fuca flickered in the afternoon sun. I had made it to this beautiful perch in a place so many of us dream about for 364 days a year, so why was I so bummed?

Now I鈥檓 not saying those feelings aren鈥檛 valid, but I do think they are born from conditioning. Not reaching a summit or topping out carries a stigma, and it鈥檚 one we really, truly need to stop caring about. A hike is a hike is a hike. I felt it that day on the ledge, and it鈥檚 a lesson I鈥檝e been working with ever since.

There have been a few summit pushes in that time, but also quite a few wanders to middle ground. All of them have gotten me outdoors and away from the computer that is otherwise tethered to my fingertips. I鈥檓 not going to deliver the 鈥渋t鈥檚 the journey, not the destination鈥� sermon, but not focusing on summits has helped me appreciate the experience of being outside. I鈥檝e started listening more, not just to my surroundings, but to my body in general. Plus, the last time I checked, the backpack PB&J tastes pretty great, no matter where you stop on the trail.

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I ran my first marathon in a basketball jersey. Not just any basketball jersey, a vintage Chris Webber Golden State Warriors number, bright blue and straight from the mid-nineties. As racers lined up at the starting line of the Sunflower Marathon in Mazama, Washington, I looked out of place next to technical T-shirts and space-age microfibers. But in many ways, that was also kind of the point: Did it really matter what I was wearing? We were all about to run the same race, did we have to look the same too?

Running is an intensely personal experience. Beyond the run club hoopla and Strava route sharing, getting up and going is an internal affair, one driven by any number of motivations, but ultimately completed by a team of one. So why, then, has running fashion (and function) become such a crowd-sourced affair?

Sweat-wicking material, temperature control technology, flat seams, lower friction points鈥攖he innovation in our outer appearance has never been as good as it is today. But it鈥檚 also intimidating. The pressure to get the exact right gear as everyone else can add an extra barrier of entry to the run game, and for some it can be a downright turnoff. Let鈥檚 be real, dropping an extra $200 on an over-designed tank top isn鈥檛 exactly screaming 鈥済o out there and have some fun.鈥�

Truthfully, for most of us, the shirt that we feel most comfortable in is, and always will be, the ultimate running shirt. Not nanotech, lab-engineered comfortable, but 鈥淗ey, this is me鈥� comfortable. That might mean a baggy cotton tee, a high school era cutoff, or a vintage basketball jersey. Comfort does not come in a singular box.

Sure, chafing is a scourge on the planet (this is one of the world鈥檚 only universal truths), but most of us simply are not out there pushing the technological limits of our sportswear on our morning jog. We are, however, fighting to get out the door in the first place, battling a laundry list of excuses (and a few sore muscles) in the process. Frankly, adding a uniform to the mix just gives me one more reason to hit the snooze button.

Running is a pure pursuit: one foot in front of the other for as long as we can. The rest? That鈥檚 all extra. Let鈥檚 start treating it as such. This isn鈥檛 hockey鈥攖here are no pads, no jock straps, no laser-cut helmet designs or skates making the millisecond difference in our daily neighborhood loop. Let鈥檚 keep it simple, folks. If putting on a familiar shirt gets you to the start line, that鈥檚 a win that even the most highly specialized workout top can never deliver. So get out there and let that garment game fly.

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I moved West single and starry-eyed. With and mountains to climb, I knew the area was going to attract people that liked the same things as me, and maybe even one who liked me a little bit too. In fact, I was pretty adamant that a mutual passion for the mountains was going to be the make-or-break facet of my future dating life.

Then I met Will and Laura. Will was a typical Pacific Northwest transplant, coming in hot from four years of college in Vermont with aspirations to ski, hike, bike, and kayak his way across the whole region, and then maybe the world. He had turned his purple Chrysler Town & Country minivan into a verified rolling gear shed and loved anything that got him into the mountains. He also loved Laura. She, however, could do without the peaks that called Will鈥檚 name, claiming to hate skiing and only camping if it involved an electronic music festival. To top it off, she revealed that , and that she had no plans to break that streak anytime soon.

I was floored. Here were two people who had been together for years that hadn鈥檛 done something that I considered a pre-req for any kind of longevity in the dating game. Not even a single hike? Nada. I assumed this wild admission must be some sort of relationship denial or communication breakdown, but what I learned was much more revealing.

You see, Laura was totally down with Will鈥檚 mountain obsession. She talked openly (and quite candidly) about Will being more fun to be around when he came back from a hike or a day in the snow鈥攁nd that trading a few hours apart was more than worth it. Will echoed the sentiment. Laura was passionate about her art and pottery. That wasn鈥檛 really Will鈥檚 speed, but you know what was? The lit-up Laura that came back from her studio sessions.

Still in my early 20s, I had really only seen relationships as dusty mirrors. This, though, was the first time I watched partners support each other鈥檚 passions rather than share them. I鈥檓 pretty sure that鈥檚 when the Earth started shaking under my feet. It was uncomfortable, but refreshing, that kind of perspective shift you don鈥檛 really want but might kind of need. Since getting to know Laura and Will, I鈥檝e . While there were many pros and cons lists and plenty of overthinking, I鈥檝e met some great people, untangling a bit of my identity and the activities I love in the process. That last part is a continual journey, but it鈥檚 comforting knowing there鈥檚 plenty of connections to make off the beaten path. Hey, most will even tolerate me going off to do my own thing once in a while (if I ask nicely, of course).

I鈥檓 not saying I know a lot about a lot, but thanks to Laura and Will I find myself holding onto a simple truth: Standing on top of a mountain with your person is amazing, but finding someone who will let you be who you are鈥攈iker, potter, or otherwise? That one鈥檚 hard to top.

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You鈥檙e ten minutes from the trailhead and an hour from home when you realize the snacks are still on your kitchen counter. Big bummer. Stopping at the last gas station between you and four hours of hiking, you know this is make-or-break time, the difference between a magical day on the trail and a grown-up meltdown. So how can you save the day for under $15? Here are six considerations for those looking to score some last second calories without breaking the bank.

1. Slim Jim ($1)

Not the most elegant of the meat sticks, but this classic snack packs a protein punch鈥攕even grams to be exact鈥攆or much less than its other beef jerky competitors. Bonus points for being flexible, thin and incredibly pack-friendly, a Slim Jim offers you a nice calorie baseline in a pinch.

2. Honey Roasted Peanuts ($4)

Roasted nuts are full of burnable calories and make for great trail fuel. While almonds offer a balance of iron, calcium, and magnesium, we鈥檙e opting for peanuts that are higher in protein and fiber. That tasty coating of honey and sugar could give you a boost on a steep incline. Plus, taste, you know?

3. Pedialyte ($3.50)

Skip the sugary sports beverage and grab that drink 聽your sick kid lived on once for some real replenishment power. Pedialyte is high in electrolytes and sugar that help replenish what you lose while sweating on the trail, and offers 780 milligrams of potassium and 7.8 milligrams of zinc per serving. Combine with water for longer days on the trail.

4. Bananas ($1)

This kind of depends on the gas station, but many (like 7Eleven) will offer some bananas hanging out by checkout. Bananas are high in potassium, which helps prevent cramping and boosts your blood sugar to keep energy levels from crashing during your day hike. If bananas aren鈥檛 available, dried apricots are a good alternative.

5. Snickers ($1.75)

The ultimate backcountry snack, Snickers might be the most useful candy bar of the lot, combining peanuts, chocolate, and caramel into a delicious energy pop when you need it most. I tend to pack a Snickers for summit days, breaking off a half at the top for a reward, but also that necessary protein and sugar kick. The second half can provide some emergency calories on the return trip, 聽but also tastes great in the parking lot.

6. Hard-Boiled Egg ($1)

Believe it or not, lots of gas stations have them, and they’re always cheap. Hard-boiled eggs, while not the most glamorous trail snack, are a great emergency option for replenishing energy and repairing muscle tissue after or towards the end of a long day on the trail. Protein rich, these trail MVPs provide all nine amino acids and are easy to throw in the top of any hiking pack. Bonus points for pickled hard-boiled eggs, which offer lots of anti-inflammatory benefits to offset that post-hike rigor mortis.

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