Discovering Nevada’s Great Outdoors
Trail at River Fork Ranch. All photos/Kristen Kirkpatrick.
By Kristen Kirkpatrick
In January 2018, I was vacationing in Maui with family and friends. My husband and I were sitting on our lanai, drinking coffee, when at 8:01 AM my phone made that attention-getting tone that something was amiss. I looked at my phone and saw that there was an incoming missile to Hawai’i, and it was not a drill.
For the next 38 minutes, we had every reason to believe we were about to be nuked. Quick texts flew among our friends, wondering what to do. While this event reset my bar for what events in life merit fear, I was at the same time overwhelmed with peace as I looked out onto the ocean.
The whales playing off shore were unaware of the threat. Children playing in the sand and wading in the surf had no idea what we were facing. In fact, I realized that the beautiful fish living in the reefs, the dolphins living off the south tip of Lanai, and all of nature were blissfully unaware that life, as we knew it, could be coming to an end.
For them, the 38 minutes was a tiny part of their larger stories. They clearly found joy in their world, leaping from the water, breathing the fresh air, and soaking up the sun.
Fast forward to 2020 and a crisis that wrapped the entire globe. Humans are not designed to survive in isolation. Yet by March of 2020, isolation was becoming a way of life – one we all hoped would be short-lived.
“Two weeks to flatten the curve!” is a phrase we all remember, and, in response, we agreed.Days became weeks, weeks became months, and before we knew it, a year had passed. Isolation was where we remained.
Mountains on the way to Elko.
As a fundraiser for The Nature Conservancy in Nevada, I was unsure what the impact would be to my work. I couldn’t meet with donors, plan field trips for small groups, or even travel outside my immediate community. The only avenue open to me was to check in with those who invest in our work, express my concerns for their health, and ask what they were doing to cope with the pandemic.
What they told me was transformational: we were heading into spring and were told it was safe to practice social distancing outside. The mere thought of trails crisscrossing the mountains, foothills, and high desert came like an emancipation proclamation – and by the thousands, we headed into fresh air and improved mental health.
We discovered places in Nevada that we didn’t know existed, we ventured across the borders to explore the vast intermountain west, and we challenged ourselves to climb to new heights on trails we were hiking for the first time.
The Ruby Mountains called us toward Elko, we saw the epic mountains of the Carson Valley changing with the seasons, and as COVID-19 tore a terrible path around the world, we found solace in Mother Nature herself.
So how exactly did nature heal our souls? Let us count the ways.
We discovered that exercise was just outside our door. The gyms were closed, the stores where we could buy gym equipment were dark, and even golf courses were off limits. Yet in Nevada, one of the most sparsely populated states in the nation, there were trails for people of all fitness levels. We could mountain bike, paddle board on lakes, and climb the endless mountain ranges that cover our beautiful state.
We discovered a quieter side of life. COVID-19 coverage inundated our lives as pundits of all kinds tried to predict the course this unknown disease would run. Even the briefest of outdoor excursions broke the endless yammering, and in that quiet we could pretend life had returned to normal.
We got our heads out of the clouds. For many of us, flying went from being our first choice for travel to being completely unavailable. Instead, we hopped in our cars and visited the wealth of national and state parks, monuments, and preserves that are an easy drive from Nevada. We saw places we’d read about in picture books – Zion, the Great Basin, Yellowstone, the grandeur of the Rocky Mountains, the Black Hills, and our very own Sierra Nevada. We saw wildlife that were unencumbered by the weight of COVID-19; we saw buffalo roaming while deer and antelope played. Even when hotels were closed, we dusted off our camping gear and, sitting next to campfires along gurgling streams, we were renewed by the simplicity of life.
We welcomed ghosts from the past. Nevada was (and still is) home to a vast mining industry. As the large strikes that drew adventurous new settlers panned out, entire towns were abandoned. The history of Nevada is filled with mining camps, questionable characters, and boot hill cemeteries. Given how proud Nevadans can be, COVID offered us the opportunity to connect with the scoundrels, gunslingers, and ladies of the night who came west for gold and silver.
Trail at River Fork Ranch (a TNC preserve).
When the bleak outlook for 2020 initially came into focus, we had choices: we could succumb to the stress of isolation or we could find new ways to turn being alone into something joyful. Nature prevailed for many of us and, as we began to come out of COVID-19, we realized that nature had restored our souls, given us brief shots at freedom, and opened doors we would never close.
For me, all of this is a commitment to move forward with a new perspective. I’m challenging myself to now visit all of the National Parks and Nevada state parks that I’ve not yet seen. I work with a large group of avid campers who added places like Jarbridge, Lamoille Canyon, and even Area 51 to my vocabulary.
Nevada has more mountain ranges than any other state, and I now carry an atlas that tells me exactly which peaks, points, and pinnacles are in view. Each is incredibly remarkable – the variations in color, elevation, and rock composition are unmatched anywhere.
I’ve learned that going for a hike can be anything from a paved trail through the nearby wetlands to an arduous climb to the highest peaks and everything in between. All I need are a good pair of shoes, a healthy snack, and lots of water to renew my spirit on any given day. My donors reported nature was saving their sanity, and were generous in sending photos and recommendations.
In the course of the year, I learned that weather doesn’t have to be a deterrent. When the great outdoors is the only thing available to prevent the despair isolation too often brings, the weather becomes a minor interference. The places you visit in summer take on a whole new look when covered with snow, and the wind - it wouldn’t be Nevada without the wind.
Most important, COVID-19 gave me the opportunity to really understand what it means to be Battle Born. Nevadans are, by nature, independent. We are resilient, we are unafraid, we are innovative, we find solutions for challenges that would overwhelm anyone else. We move forward, treasuring our history and the land that we have the good fortune to call home.
Having spent so much of the past year on hilltops, in the mountains, along rivers, and on lakes, part of me is grateful that COVID-19 opened my heart and mind to the vastness of our natural resources. I will be thrilled when all of this is behind us, but I am deeply committed to honoring the positive experiences I might not have otherwise had. And the best news is that for all that I discovered in the past year, there is still a lot out there for me to discover.
See you in the outdoors, Nevada!
Red Rock Canyon.
Kristen Kirkpatrick is a 20-year, fundraising professional, currently serving as the Associate Director of Development for the Nature Conservancy (TNC) of Nevada. She and her husband live in Spanish Springs, are long-time season ticket holders for Nevada Wolf Pack football, and love to travel. If anyone would like to learn more about what TNC is doing to preserve, protect, and restore special places in Nevada, they can visit nature.org/Nevada.
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