The Myth(s) of Dirtbagging

Living the dream, or privilege in the outdoor industry?

As a kid, I have vivid memories of attending Warren Miller movie showings every November. Twelve-year-old me would stare at the big screen, in awe of all the bada** skiers and dirtbags. Bright smiles and goggle tans lit up the screen, and the goofy, go-with-the-flow demeanors of the athletes were charismatic and inspiring. I knew I wanted to live out of my Subaru and ski deep powder one day, just like them. But, after spending some time seeking out that lifestyle, I’ve become aware that it isn’t the easy-breezy dream I thought it was.

Myth 1: Anyone can do it

Positionality

Before I come off as preachy, it's important that I recognize my positionality (the social and political context that creates identity). As a cisgender, white, able-bodied, financially stable woman in the outdoor industry, I have a lot of privileges: I feel welcome in the outdoor community, and have been introduced to many different sports; I've had the luxury of choosing how I prefer to spend my time recreating, and I have been able to purchase the gear required for such activities. My parents also had the same experiences growing up, so my family is familiar and comfortable with outdoor recreation. This privilege alone illustrates the relative ease with which I was able to dirtbag. Members of historically excluded communities (BIPOC, LGBTQ+, and others) have many barriers that prevent them from partaking in outdoor recreation, let alone a dirtbag lifestyle. Their positionality makes it a lot harder for them to pick up and live out of their cars due to systemic racism, historic and present discrimination and oppression, the opportunity gap, the wage gap, and more.

Going "Out West"

What the heck does it mean to go “out west”? This may be a term only tossed around east of the Mississippi, but it's a phrase I’ve heard since childhood and, quite frankly, still don’t fully understand. A couple of years ago, I reached out to someone who worked in Career Services at my university. I sent her an email along the lines of: “Hi! I am looking to move out west this summer, preferably somewhere in the Rockies. Do you have any leads on jobs, or internships?” She was a program liaison for Boulder, Colorado, and had visited one of my classes to talk to us about using her as a resource for job opportunities—I thought she would have some insight. Her response was as dry as it could be: “Hi, I don’t understand what you mean by “out west” or “the Rockies.” Please be more specific.” While her response was valid, it was a cold slap in the face. If you haven't grown up hearing about the mysterious “west,” and yet still feel inclined to do some dirtbagging, you may be hit with major struggles in terms of navigation and terminology—certain outdoor hotspots have a tendency to be gatekept, which makes for an unwelcome environment.

On Gatekeeping

While I was lucky enough to eventually find my dirtbagging destination (Bozeman, Montana), the notion of traveling without much familiarity to a new place is intimidating and stressful—as is learning the outdoor lingo you'll need to communicate. Once I got to Bozeman, I occasionally felt this as I tried to learn about the local geography from folks who had spent some time there—being met with questions like: “You don’t know where ____ is? Jeez, what are you doing out here?” While these conversations may seem fairly harmless, they can quickly break down someone's confidence when they're trying to connect with a new place. It can sometimes be difficult to find welcoming locals who are willing to share their favorite recreation spots with you, which further hinders the ability to dirtbag in the ways you want.

Myth 2: Safety

Living out of your car as a woman

While I was living out of my Subaru and exploring National Parks, I frequently had a pit in my stomach. As soon as I lost cell service on a dirt road on my way to a campsite, my pulse would increase. I had tools of defense—specifically, my trusty hot pink mace—but at the end of the day, I never felt fully safe sleeping alone in my car every night. I often see pieces of advice online being given to solo, female-identifying travelers, such as leaving a pair of men’s boots outside of your car at night, or constantly saying “we” when referring to your personal travels to a group of people. While it's entirely possible and freeing to travel solo as a woman, such constant surveillance of how you interact with strangers is draining. A particular time I remember feeling unsafe was during a jog at Crater Lake National Park in Oregon. I was on a trail, but there were a few sections of paved road scattered around. About halfway through my run, I emerged from the woods at a road crossing and saw an oncoming car hit their brakes and pull off into a parking lot facing me. There weren’t any other cars on the road, so my mind quickly went to the worst-case scenario—I panicked, turned around, and ran back into the woods. As I did this, the car slowly started driving in my direction—so I doubled back, sprinted across the road, and hid behind a bush. I didn’t have any cell service, so I stayed as still as possible and closed my eyes. Eventually, after stopping again and idling in the road, the car drove off completely. Was this an overreaction? Maybe—but if it had been a worst-case scenario moment, I would’ve been defenseless.

After that experience, I now have a negative association with that park—I felt embarrassed for potentially overreacting, frustrated by feeling unsafe in a national park, and guilty for not bringing my pepper spray with me on that run. These types of situations are commonplace, and add unnecessary stress to the promised “relaxed” lifestyle of dirtbagging.

Myth 3: Dirtbagging is cheap

A large boundary in the world of dirtbagging, ironically, is cost. If someone is dirtbagging, they most likely aren't working—which isn’t to say that people who choose to dirtbag aren't hard-working, but it more than likely means that they have some sort of income (or savings) to use for everyday expenses. While there's nothing inherently wrong with that, it is confusing: dirtbagging is glorified for the perceived lack of resources one needs to live such a lifestyle. In reality, you'll need money to stay on your feet—car/health insurance, gas, food, and supporting a family are just a few examples of things not normally associated with the dirtbagging lifestyle, but are all monthly fees that have to be dealt with to feel secure.

The Gear

Dirtbagging also (usually) means someone is pursuing outdoor recreation in one form or another: climbing, skiing, biking, hiking, etc. This further debunks the myth that dirtbagging is an affordable lifestyle—outdoor gear is expensive. Depending on your sport of choice, you could easily spend thousands of dollars on gear. The average rock climbing rack can cost between $500-$1000. A backcountry ski set-up: $1000-$3000. A mountain bike? Up to $10,000 and beyond! The high cost of gear is often glossed over in outdoor media through corporate sponsorships and advertising: you’ll rarely see someone ‘dirtbagging’ without a veritable buffet of high-quality gear in tow. Black Diamond paints their sponsored climbers, like Alex Honnold, as back-to-the-land style minimalists, even though they're fully kitted out with all of BD's most glamorous and expensive products. Intentionally or not, these advertising narratives perpetuate the persistent illusion that dirtbagging is dirt cheap.

Dirtbagging is something a lot of outdoor enthusiasts—myself included—would love to spend the rest of their lives doing. And, while dirtbagging has positively impacted countless lives, I do think it is important to be thoughtful about its accessibility. Everyone has different experiences doing these types of adventures, and these were a few thoughts I had while adventuring myself. Here’s to breaking down walls in the outdoor world.