The Complete Guide to Cyclocross, Your New Favorite Spectator Sport

For many of us, fall is the time of year to hang up the road bike, begin breaking out the ski gear and start working on the sort of body that comes from a generous overindulgence in pumpkin spice treats and Thanksgiving turkey. But, for a select few, October is the time that legs get shaved, intervals get intense and Friday nights end by 10 pm. All in the name of slipping into a skinsuit to slide around in the mud on a slightly modified road bike.

Cyclocross, or just ‘cross to its friends, isn’t a big deal in the US. But in Belgium, it’s second only to soccer in terms of spectator attendance and devotion — and perhaps first in terms of beer consumption. The short-course cycling discipline takes the speed of criterium racing, the skills of mountain biking and the all-round-athleticism of obstacle course racing — and it does so in the worst possible weather. Each lap takes riders on drop bar bikes around a muddy course, up and down steep hills and sees them dismount to run up stairs and leap over barriers. Unlike professional road racing, you can see all of the action live, and the race is over in an hour. Add in the crashes, rider-to-rider duels and technical skill on display and you have something that resembles destruction derby meeting supercross on push bikes. If Chuck Norris raced bikes, he’d race cyclocross.

The Backstory

Cyclocross is older than the Tour de France — the first race was held in 1902. Various origin myths exist, but essentially early events were a no-holds-barred race from A to B with no pre-determined route. Riders would take shortcuts through mud and over gates and began to use touring bikes to allow for wider tires and more traction. In Flanders, the sport is known as “veldrijden” or field riding, which at once explains cyclocross perfectly, and makes it as hard to say as it is to do.

In 1910, Octave Lapize attributed his Tour de France win to a winter spent racing cyclocross, and the sport gained in popularity amongst road racers. The fact that it combined running with cycling also attracted runners in their offseason and the sport began to grow in Europe decades before the first triathlons would be raced in California. The short and intense races were a perfect way to keep fitness levels up, and to keep warm, in the wet and windy European winters. At the time, bikes were the Formula One cars of their day, and France even had army regiments mounted on two wheels. The combination of technology, athleticism and an opportunity for drinking and gambling saw the sport grow, and the first World Championship race was held in Paris in 1960.

Over time, the sport evolved into a circuit race in which riders must negotiate barriers of a specific height (these are normally planks up to 16 inches high and 13 feet apart) by either dismounting and quickly remounting or, if they trust their skills, bunnyhopping. Courses also include run-ups on steep muddy climbs, technical descending and slogs through deep mud and sand. Despite these changes, ‘cross is still essentially “riding the curly bar type of bike that they use in the Tour de France around in circles in the mud and jumping over stuff,” according to Kona Maxxis Shimano pro Barry Wicks.

Bikes have also evolved a lot since 1902, but it is only really in the last decade that cyclocross bikes have made huge leaps forward. For years, ‘cross frames had higher bottom brackets so that riders could push bikes uphill without their toe-clips hitting the ground. The advent of reliable off-road clipless pedals has allowed bottom brackets to drop, meaning bikes are more stable and remounting is a little easier with the saddle closer to the ground. Until 2010, cyclocross bikes used rim brakes, a technology that was not unfamiliar to those pioneers of the sport in the early twentieth century. Modern bikes almost universally rely on disc brakes, which offer much more reliable performance in the atrocious conditions which cyclocross racers relish. Today’s tires are limited in width, but feature treads designed specifically for mud, dust, ice or snow. Racers generally favor tubulars, tires that are glued to the rim allowing for super low pressures and no danger of a tire rolling off the rim in the event of an untimely flat. Modern frames also add a flattened top tube to make shouldering the bike easier during long runs and will often do away with front shifting in favor of a simpler, and more weatherproof, single chainring set up. Where once ‘cross bikes were oddly specific, they’re now just great versatile bikes for commuting, exploring, road riding and Sunday morning barrier hopping.

Cyclocross Today

Professional cyclocross in Belgium is an incredible spectacle. Riders will hit the barriers, which would bring most of us to a complete halt, at 25 mph and dismount and remount so quickly that they appear to hover across the mud. Stair run-ups are often negotiated without even unclipping and courses feature flyovers which see racers catching air over the heads of a screaming crowd. Each pro rider has a pit crew and bike changes, which also happen at full speed, and occur whenever the rider feels his machine is too clogged up with mud to function. Often this means entering the pits at the sort of speed that might get you a ticket on city streets, vaulting from one bike to another one being held by a mechanic, and sprinting back into the pack more than once every lap. All this skill is combined with the sort of power output that would leave most amateur riders gasping after a minute, but which the best in the world sustain for an hour.

Crowd interaction is also a key element of cyclocross. As the sport has grown in the US, a tradition of heckling has developed. Given the relatively slow speeds on some parts of the course and the fact that riders are much more spread out than in a road race, this is generally audible to both riders and fellow spectators. Most of it is light-hearted and amusing, but certain pros take exception and sometimes that exception takes the form of a well-placed cycling shoe to the groin of an overzealous spectator.

The biggest races will draw thousands of fans and showcase some of the most brilliant technical cycling you have ever seen. They’re well worth firing up the VPN to watch, especially if you enjoy the undecipherable but still strangely exhilarating sound of Dutch commentators calling the race at the top of their lungs while sounding like they have a mouthful of marbles over your morning coffee.

Races to Watch

Andrew Juliano, a California-based pro rider for Grit World Racing, who lived and raced in Belgium, suggests that beginners tune into November’s Koksijde World Cup race to see the mud-splattered, beer-swilling, Flemish-screaming ideal of what cyclocross can be — 60,000 fans can’t be wrong. Later in the year, Zonhoven’s natural stadium and incredible sand drops make for one of the greatest spectacles in cycling, and Namur’s technical course combined with its ridiculously European location on a hilltop Citadel make it worth getting up early for. Make waffles, have your friends over and then go and suit up to slide around in the mud yourself for a few hours. It’s the perfect winter weekend.

The Experience

The things that make cyclocross so fun to watch also make it a great sport to compete in, which is likely why it’s the fastest growing sector of bike racing. When races only last 30-60 minutes, you don’t need to put in the ridiculous training volumes required for road racing, and the skill required is fun to learn and hard to master, meaning you’ll be seeing improvements long after your progress in the gym would have hit a plateau. Cross also offers a rare opportunity for grown adults to play in the mud which, let’s face it, is something we all need more of.

Cyclocross is a full-sensory experience. Nothing is quite as exciting and intimidating as the smell of embrocation (a capsaicin cream racers use to warm up cold legs) combined with that of frying potatoes, stale beer and sweat. Then there’s the sound. Cyclocross has had cowbells since The Tonight Show was in black and white, but now there are also air horns and, almost inevitably at the big races, someone endeavoring to keep the dream of the vuvuzela alive two inches from your ear as you drag your exhausted carcass up a hill so steep that you’re using your hands as much as your feet. It might seem like some kind of obscene winter carnival, but after a few weeks, there will be nowhere you’d rather spend your Saturdays.

‘Cross people are fun too. There’s much more of a friendly vibe between racers when, let’s face it, everyone is competing in a sport which sees grown men wrestling wildly inappropriate vehicles through mud pits for an hour. Often, fans will offer “hand-ups” from the sidelines, anything from cookies to beer to bacon and dollar bills. Regardless of whether you’re winning or losing, you’re never that far from the action because of the short course and short race times. This means there’s none of the demoralizing feeling of being dropped and left behind that occurs in a road race. Everyone is part of the show.

Bike Set Up and Skills

For dedicated roadies, you’ll need some off-road pedals and a few adjustments to your position. Chris Jacobson of Bikefitting.com suggests running the seat 1cm lower compared to your road setup. The lower seat height can enhance bike handling by lowering your center of mass and making the bars relatively higher. It also makes remounts on your bike safer and more fluid as well, and protects the lower back from the jarring impacts that are common in ‘cross. For mountain bikers, the best bet is to stick with your tried and true shoe set up and opt for a bar set up with 1-2 inches of drop from saddle to bar.

Once your bike is dialed, you’ll want to work out how to ride it without wiping out. Most regions have a local race calendar and offer beginners clinics. There are also various skills camps available, which will help you avoid some of the classic beginner pitfalls such as not quite unclipping in time for the barriers and missing the pedal on the remount, leaving your entire weight to come crushing down on the saddle. Not fun. But in the absence of clinics, jumping into a race, meeting people and listening to their advice is also a worthwhile way to learn. Cyclocross is like punk rock, everyone looks intimidating, but in fact they want nothing more than to welcome you into their weird world of mud, sweat and gears.

The Gear

Tires

Cross racers can be super techy. Tires are a particular place where they like to geek out, as the connection between rider and terrain can make all the difference in terms of traction and therefore speed. Don’t be surprised to find your competitors squeezing your tires and carefully making minute adjustments to their PSI minutes before the start. We like to use the Donnelly PDX when it’s muddy out but prefer the MXP when it’s dry and dusty.

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Skinsuit

Your summer gear will do, but there’s nothing nicer than slipping into a warming onesie before you submit your body to the rigors of lactate accumulation for an hour. We recommend Castelli’s Classics Thermosuit. This cyclocross-specific skinsuit will keep your working muscles warm as you wait on the startline, but will help prevent overheating once your heart rate hits BPM levels you thought were reserved for EDM tracks. You’ll want a nice warm jacket and tights to wear to the start grid, and some good embrocation or knee warmers to keep your joints warm without the bulk of legwarmers, which tend to hold water on rainy days.

Bike

While a ‘cross-specific bike is best, cyclocross bikes needn’t cost the earth, and the right one is more than capable on the road or the gravel — so long as you have a few sets of tires on hand. Some races will even let beginners race flat bar mountain bikes. Look for disc brakes, lower than usual gearing (you win races by not braking and by pedaling faster than others on the slowest parts, not by holding a high speed on the very short tarmac sections). The Trek Crockett 5 disc offers great specs, some vibration damping in the fork, race-ready tires and gearing. For when you get the urge to upgrade, Trek’s Boone 7 offers built-in damping in the front and rear of the lightweight carbon frame, and a dialed geometry that has seen it carry riders to the top step of podiums in dozens of races whose names you might struggle to pronounce.

Handlebar Bag

Cyclocross is the opposite of road racing — the most important lap is the first lap. Getting the holeshot into the first corner can make all the difference, so you’ll want to be warmed up. I really like riding to races as a warm-up. This handlebar bag, which also converts to a fanny pack, lets me bring my wallet, a license, a few gels and a sneaky beer to help me bum a ride home. For driving to races, the Mountainsmith Cycle Cube is great. It keeps all your gear separated so you know where everything is and can confine the dirty stuff to its own compartment on the way home — because there will be dirty stuff.

Shoes

For cyclocross, you’ll need shoes that are as stiff as road shoes but offer more grip and allow for mounting on a mountain bike cleat. While any mountain bike shoes will do, we suggest Shimano’s new XC 9, which uses the same sole as its pro-level road shoe, but adds grip and optional studs for the mud. It sheds mud quickly, feels feather light and, with the extra studs, will let you run up near vertical slopes of peanut butter textured slop. Combine them with toasty waterproof socks and the incredible mud-shedding powers of the new XTR pedals and you’ll be able to clip in through sand, snow and swamps.

Gloves

Cyclocross is a winter sport, but riding bikes in ski gloves is neither fun, nor fast. These Showers Pass gloves provide enough feedback to steer the bike without feeling like you might leave a digit out on the course when temperatures drop below freezing. They’re also waterproof, making them a great option for post-race snowball fights.

Clean-Up Kit

Part of the fun of racing ‘cross is getting absolutely filthy. If you’re not brushing the grit out of your teeth that night, you’re not trying hard enough. While you and your bike will reach unforeseen levels of mud ingress after a good ‘cross race, and that thick coating of mud is part of the fun, it needn’t be part of your car upholstery. This Nemo pressure shower and Muc Off cleaning kit helps clean up and saves you from having to blame the dog for that massive mudstain on your driver’s seat that returns every weekend.

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Inside the World’s Best Hiking Boot Repair Shop

Almost 50 years ago, Dave Page — then a professor of American history at the University of Washington and Western — was bouldering with his girlfriend on a beach in California. They were sitting in the sand. He looked at his ragged rock shoe and said to her, ‘I gotta get these things resoled.’ “And it struck me as so stupid — that I’d have to send them to Colorado, to the only guy who could fix them, and it would take six months,” Page remembers. Not long before, he had spent a couple of months cutting hiking boot uppers at a small factory in Kitzbuhel, Austria, to scare up some cash for a climbing bender. So he took matters into his own hands: He paid a call to a shoe repairman in Seattle and started working for him, gratis. When the business closed every evening at six, Page had the shop to himself, destroying boots and putting them back together. Not long after, he hung his own shingle — from his Seattle basement. “Did I learn the trade from a mentor? No. He didn’t know shit,” he says. “I learned how to do it myself.”

Now, at age 79, Page — and the eight young hiker-meets-hipster employees who lean over grinders, trimmers, sanders, breasters, blowers, stitchers and scrapers — is a legend in the world of boot repair. His shop, painted red, windows plastered with stickers, has been located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood for decades. He’s the go-to cobbler for all of the big hiking boot brands, from Asolo to Zamberlain. He can turn around a pair of vintage Raichles in a week. His name is singled out on REI’s repair website; he sometimes receives boots from as far away as New Zealand and Australia. His relationship with Vibram goes back 25-plus years, and he’s in the process of becoming one of its elite Diamond shops. “The majority of products he repairs are called ‘net fit,’” says John Mcloughlin, director of customer satisfaction at Vibram. “It means the upper actually drops into the sole, so if you make a wrong cut, the shoe is ruined. It’s extremely labor-intensive, and Dave [Page] is a master, one of the few people out there who will put in the effort.”

Back when George Mallory’s body was discovered on Everest, a forensic anthropologist and an Everest Scholar showed up, asking Page to help identify the maker of Mallory’s boots. World-renowned mountaineers like Ed Viesturs, the only American to summit all 14 of the world’s 8,000-meter peaks, have trusted Page with their footwear. For Viesturs, it started in the late 1970s with a pair of used Lowa Civettas with welts worn down to the boot edge. “I couldn’t afford new boots at the time,” he says. “You’d walk into his shop, everything smelling of fresh leather and oils,” says Viesturs. “Dave [Page] is a true craftsman. One of the best at what he does.”

Though Page will take pretty much any footwear — Birkenstocks, high heels, telemark boots, duck boots, custom-made Lucchese cowboy boots — he made his name with hikers, climbers and mountaineers like Viesturs, partly because he is an accomplished outdoorsman himself. He scaled Himalayan summits; he made first ascents with the legendary Fred Beckey. The repair process hasn’t changed much: He peels off the worn sole with edge tools, brings the upper to a grinder and sands off the remnants of the sole, the polyurethane, the glue. He preps the boot for primer and hangs it on a rack to dry. He matches the correct sole to the boot, roughs it up. He reheats the boot to actuate the adhesive, then puts everything into a press so the cement makes good contact. Another grinder, with bristles, brushes off any extra glue for a clean line. Sealer is delicately applied onto the edge where sole meets leather. Though he won’t say how many boots the shop resoles a day, someone at the press whispers, “very close to a hundred.” Page will allow this: “I’m still the world’s largest repairer of hiking boots.”

No wonder there’s a black note scribbled on the slightly grimy, otherwise blank back wall of the shop that reads: “HURRY UP!!!” Piles of wooden lasts, painted green, are piled on one table. Next to it sits a box full of brown polish jars (hellbraun, mittelbraun). The shelves are stacked with boot soles, heel plates, cork and leather scraps. La Sportiva climbing shoes, all hooked with yellow handwritten tags, share a table with boxes of giant chocolate muffins. The air has a bouquet of glue. The machines hum at a constant, white-noise pitch. Everything is covered in dust, oil, thread, or discards; it’s very much a place at work. One tall man (topknot, wire-rimmed spectacles, 30-ish) walks in with a pair of black Merrell Wilderness boots and describes how his weird big toe is wearing down the soles. A few minutes later, an older gentleman (head-to-toe beige, fedora) pulls a scuffed dress shoe off his foot and asks if it can be fixed. (It can.)

In a throwaway culture, it’s strange and wonderful to find a man whose life’s work is to refurbish and reuse, to be a listening ear for countless stories, trails, travels. “We always joke at how the osmosis shocks us,” Page says. “People just find us.” There’s the one about the guy from Seattle who sits next to a guy from Germany on a bench somewhere in Bhutan, and the German says he needs to send his busted boots all the way to a “Dave Page.” The one about the boots pecked apart by a Costa Rican parrot who had a thing for leather. The National Park rangers. The boots shipped from Hong Kong, Chamonix, Italy.

But the master himself wears Adidas sneakers and short cotton socks. That, and khaki hiking shorts, a black polo, a black Asolo apron and black-rimmed glasses. His hair is white; his beard is short and neat; he’s more short than tall. He hunches over a Sutton Rapid E curved needle stitcher. He threads it, then carefully holds up a tall brown Filson boot with a leather sole. He presses the pedal. The machine revs as he guides the bootsole through the pounding of the needle. It looks unsteady, but perhaps it’s not, and it makes a perfect shape as a waft of smoke rises from the thrashing machine. “So many people still think that I’m a little guy under a 100-watt bulb fixing their boots, and occasionally I am,” he says. “I’m asked all the time when I will I retire. I get to work with my hands, I get to see the progress I make at the end of the day. Anyway, who would I talk to?”

Behind the Scenes of Yeti’s Top Secret Innovation Center

And so in August 2016, after more than two years of planning, Yeti opened its Innovation Center, a dedicated prototyping and product-development facility. The unmarked building sits in a corporate office park shared with an engineering lab, a few miles down the road from Yeti’s headquarters in Austin, Texas. The building’s one-way windows conceal a dedicated 10-person product-development team and millions of dollars of equipment — high-powered, complex machinery that most consumer-products companies would only dream of owning.

Yeti’s Rambler drinkware is marketed as “virtually indestructible.” But under 14,000 pounds of force, the insulated stainless steel tumbler crimps down into condensed ridges until it resembles the body of a soup can. Such power is hard to generate short of using a hydraulic press; the only way to see a Yeti product — any of its products — in such a state is to visit the Innovation Center. And even then, Yeti is notoriously protective, to the point of being secretive, of the circumstances in which the remains of destructive testing are seen, and by whom. It’s not just consumers that Yeti is cautious around; only a handful of Yeti employees are aware of the Innovation Center’s existence, and even fewer have access to it.

“What we wanted to do was bring [prototyping and product testing] capabilities into Yeti with the idea that it would significantly speed up the iterative process of design,” CEO Matt Reintjes explains. Previously, the few 3D printers and assorted prototyping machines Yeti owned were housed in any closets, corners and hallways that could be claimed at the company’s headquarters. The 20,000-square-foot, high-ceilinged Innovation Center comes as a dramatic upgrade. “It also gives us the ability to bring what we believe is better innovation to the market. It’s about the speed of development — being able to move products more quickly through the design process. It was a way to control our design and protect our [intellectual property],” Reintjes adds.

As Yeti has gained prominence, copycat brands have emerged. The company has sued both retailers and competitors for patent infringement — Walmart and The Home Depot for selling imitations of its Rambler drinkware, and Bayou Ice Boxes, Mammoth Coolers, and RTIC, among others, for too closely mirroring the Tundra. “We vigorously and actively defend our intellectual property,” Reintjes says. “But we believe that the offensive strategy is to continue to be the innovation leader and to stay ahead.” The Innovation Center has become Yeti’s secret weapon. New designs and materials are contained under one roof until just before launch, allowing Yeti unprecedented control over its products.

With a mix of hand-built customs and manufacturer-made machinery, the space was developed to be maximally versatile — to prototype and test anything; future products and categories included. Speed, too, was a priority. “The number of iterations in testing, prototyping, validation and re-testing has increased dramatically,” says Director of Engineering Scott Barbieri. In the time since Yeti opened the Innovation Center, more than 2,800 distinct prototypes have been produced, with an average of 10–15 each day. A new Rambler silhouette can be generated in wax using a lathe in as little as 30 minutes. Soft-goods patterns, like those used in Yeti’s Hopper Flip coolers, can be laser cut from fabric and sewn into form in a matter of hours. “Previously, prototypes were outsourced to different vendors, taking weeks to turn around,” he adds. “Testing was done at outsourced labs, manufacturer’s labs or at the office sink.” Relying on outside companies left Yeti vulnerable to leaks, and forced the company to relinquish a degree of control over product testing.

Of all the equipment in Yeti’s arsenal, 3D printers, housed together in a walk-in-closet-sized room, have proven to be its most important — and costliest — investment. “[They] speed up our process and also bring products closer to reality,” Barbieri says. With enhanced prototyping capabilities, Yeti is able to create test products that echo the quality of factory samples. Adjusting the size or shape of a design that doesn’t pass muster is as simple as pushing pixels or changing a line of code and resubmitting the file. “Before anyone else in the world sees [a product], we’re able to design it, build it, test it here and have the full design package ready to go,” Barbieri says. The capacity to create higher-quality prototypes earlier in the development process eliminates risk down the road, enabling a previously unprecedented level of confidence in a product’s readiness when it ultimately launches.

In addition to prototyping tools, the Innovation Center houses machines for what Barbieri calls “torture tests,” custom programmed to push Yeti’s products and their individual components to their breaking points. Yeti’s YouTube videos documenting outlandish efforts to destroy its products are made for customer enjoyment; the real destruction happens behind closed doors, off-camera and in a controlled environment — and is much less sexy. Robotic arms put zippers, lids and clasps through their paces 20,000 times in order to mimic a lifetime of use, checking for signs of failure every 1,000 cycles. To test for weather-related deterioration, exterior fabrics and plastics are exposed to months of UV light and humidity, selected to simulate the Florida Everglades, as well as temperatures as low as -30 and as high as 140 degrees Fahrenheit. “All those things that we found out about the Tundra after years and years in the field, we can find out quicker because of the automation and the tools that we have — to make sure that we keep our promise of quality and durability to our consumer,” says Yeti Marketing Director Bill Neff.

Before a product goes to market, Yeti puts prototypes in the hands of its brand ambassadors, all of whom are professional outdoor enthusiasts, for testing. While torture tests reveal breaking points, ambassadors provide insight into the practical nature of Yeti’s products, like the utility of straps or placement of zippers. The newly accelerated design process now gives Yeti the opportunity to involve brand ambassadors in foundational discussions around product development, according to Soft Goods Category Manager Alex Baires. “A big piece of that is just collecting feedback, sitting around a table, asking what’s working, what they’re using and how they’re using it. And some of those conversations result in product ideas for us to look into.” Videographer, surfer and all-around outdoorsman Keith Malloy has worked with Yeti in a product-testing capacity for two years. More than anything else, he says, the Innovation Center shows Yeti’s “dedication and commitment to making the best product possible.”

As Yeti’s product roster has grown, the company has been able to build a catalog of proven methods and materials; this, in turn, helps to streamline product development. In July, Yeti unveiled its first non-insulated pieces: the Panga airtight submersible duffel and the LoadOut bucket. They were among the first products developed in the Innovation Center, and the first manifestations of Yeti’s new prototyping abilities. The LoadOut wasn’t conceived until late 2016, and the Panga, which requires radio frequency welding to bond a watertight zipper to the exterior fabric, “would not have even been considered [for] development in-house due to the specific nature of its construction,” according to Barbieri.

The new products are a departure from what Yeti is known for, but their development was aided and accelerated by materials and methods that Yeti had proven in earlier products.

The Panga was created, in part, after Yeti learned that customers were using its Hopper soft-sided cooler as a dry bag. Building a dry bag could have been as simple as producing a non-insulated version of the Hopper, but Yeti has never been known to take the simple route. “Having something that’s proven doesn’t preclude us from trying other things,” says Baires. “We can have something that works extremely well, but if the application is a bit different, we want to make sure it’s right for that application . . . . We want to keep our options open to make sure we’re not ignoring or discounting something that could be better.” In addition to a similar thermoplastic polyurethane fabric, the Panga and Hopper employ the same proprietary watertight HydroLok zipper — developed exclusively for Yeti by TIZIP and based on zippers that previously had only been used on medical field tents during the Ebola crisis in West Africa — and EVA-molded base. “We tried a couple of different things, but we [kept coming] back to the fact that what we’re doing now worked. It was validation that what we’re doing now is the best approach,” Baires says.

On the other end of the spectrum, the development of the five-gallon LoadOut bucket can be considered a return to Yeti’s origins. “[The five-gallon paint bucket] was something we were using to rinse off reels on our skiffs; it was something we were using to wash our boats,” Hard Goods Category Manager Dennis Zuck said at the unveiling of the LoadOut. “They lived in our lifestyles, but they didn’t really live that long.” In much the same way that the Tundra was a purpose-built reinvention of a product long met with frustration, the LoadOut redefined what a bucket could be. Neff conceded that while something as mundane as a bucket “threw people off,” the LoadOut was simply the result of Yeti paying attention to its audience. “We weren’t trying to convince people that this is what they need; it was us listening to frustrations with what people were already using,” he says.

The 6 Best Protein Powders Available — and How to Use Them

Protein is one of the many building blocks of life — you need it to bulk up, lose weight and maintain weight. It’s what keeps you fuller for longer, and helps prime your body for repair. It enables you to recover after a hard workout and optimize your training routine. While bodybuilders and gym rats have long taken protein powders, they’re still pretty polarizing. Either you use them, or you don’t. People don’t really dabble in protein powders. What you might not realize is that getting enough protein can be tricky, and protein supplements and powders are an easy way to up the amount of protein you’re getting without having to increase your total consumption levels.

What’s in Protein Powder?

When dipping your toes in the protein powder water, you should know what you’re consuming and how to consume it. “We understand one of the essential amino acids, leucine, is critical as a signal to promote muscle protein synthesis, which is tissue growth and repair,” Dr. Sue Kleiner, a registered dietician, a fellow of the International Society of Sports Nutrition and author of Power Eating, says. Whether you want to build muscle or slim down, protein is essential in your diet. Dr. Kleiner recommends eating protein four to five times a day, as the research shows eating at pulses throughout the day help an average person get the amount they need. If you’re looking to build muscle or bulk up, you should aim for five times a day.

What If I Eat a Lot of Meat?

While aiming to get all of the protein you need from whole foods is best, you can’t always get as much as you need from food alone. Sometimes our bodies just can’t handle eating all that protein. “Everyone can’t necessarily sit down to that kind of meal, or even have the appetite for that, so that’s where using a protein supplement as a snack [comes in].” Ideally, you’re mixing it with some fruit or in a smoothie, but the main draw to protein powder is that it’s more portable and easy to consume.

How Much Protein Should I Aim For?

With each meal or snack, you should aim for 25 to 35 grams of protein at a minimum to sustain your body during hard workouts. “It takes at least 20 grams of whey protein, which has the highest leucine composition, or 25 to 30 grams of whole protein whether you’re eating animal product or plant protein,” Dr. Kleiner says. Most protein powders come with a pre-measured scoop, which likely has at least 20 grams of protein.

Does It Matter When Picking between Whey, Plant and Animal-Based Protein?

When comparing proteins, you can get your necessary 25 grams from one, two or a mix of all three. The catch with plant protein is that “the quality of [plant] protein is lower than animal protein in supporting health, so you need 10 percent more,” Dr. Kleiner says. If you’re a vegetarian or vegan, consuming all-plant protein is sufficient, just be sure to add that extra amount.

What to Look for in a Label

Look for at least two grams of leucine per serving, but you need to be careful when purchasing supplements. “There is a lot of contamination, particularly in the supplement industry channels that focus on bodybuilding, that can be laced with drugs,” Dr. Kleiner warns. “I am adamant about using third-party certified lab products.” Look for NSF for Sport, or BSCG, which is a banned substances control group, or Informed Sport. All of those check for banned substances in supplements.

One of the reasons protein powders can be so polarizing is because there’s no one-size-fits-all. “Your nutrition needs, including how much protein you need, is dependent on many factors: age, gender, weight, activity level, the presence of an injury or a disease, as well as nutrition or fitness goals,” Megan Ostler, MS, RDN of iFit, says. It’s all very individualized.

Buying Guide

We spoke with top nutritionists and sports dieticians to hear what protein powders they recommend. McKel Hill, MS, RDN, LDN and founder of Nutrition Stripped swears by the first three picks on this list. Ostler recommends the iFit Nourish program, a questionnaire that creates the perfect protein mix for you — whether you’re a runner, CrossFitter or yogi.

Thriving Protein by Nutra Organics $40

Pea Protein by Now Sports $17

Nourish by iFit $5+

Cafe Latte by biPro $25

Organic Protein by Tone It Up $48

MySmart Shake Plant Protein Base by USANA $42

Lifestyle Gear Is Changing the Outdoors, but Is It a Good Thing?

From Issue Six of Gear Patrol Magazine.
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here’s a photograph, now iconic, of hip-hop icons Notorious B.I.G. and Ma$e that was taken during the mid-90s. With heads tilted slightly to the left, just enough to convey the appropriate amount of apathetic defiance, neither is smiling. Their hands are in their pockets, gold chains and medallions are draped around their necks. Their jackets are splayed wide — large and puffy with oversized baffles filled with down insulation. Notorious B.I.G.’s is bright yellow, its brand unidentifiable, but the abstracted Half Dome logo of The North Face is all too plain on Ma$e’s shoulder. It’s the Nuptse, originally released by The North Face in 1992 as a jacket for mountaineering.

Hip-hop artists may have adopted the puffy jacket as a street-worthy status symbol in the 1980s and 1990s, but the original down jacket was all about cold-weather performance. Eddie Bauer began experimenting with quilted down as an alternative to wool after hypothermia brought him a few visible gasps away from death during a winter fishing trip in Washington’s wilderness. Using down to provide warmth in clothing wasn’t a wholly novel idea, but Bauer’s 1936 Skyliner Jacket was the first of its kind. Ripstop nylon shells and water-repellent down, now ethically sourced in most cases, have helped the down jacket become more technical with age, but that hasn’t kept it off the backs of city dwellers who might never lace up a hiking boot — never mind attempt a summit bid of Rainier.

The down jacket has been adored by hip-hop stars and adopted by the everyman for the same reasons it’s loved by mountaineers: it’s lightweight, wind- and water-resistant, and it’s just about the warmest coat money can buy. Down jackets are pure function. But baffles and bright colors, when removed from the woods and peaks and brought into the city, become something else, too: fashionable. Other items created for camping, climbing and skiing haven’t been so readily appropriated beyond the outdoors, but thanks to a handful of forward-thinking, social-media-savvy brands representing a new generation of adventurers, that’s changing — in an era when function is a given, outdoor gear is free to be stylish, versatile, lighthearted and most importantly, inclusive.

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ronically, it was the early gear of the 1970s, now vintage, that inspired Jedd Rose to start Topo Designs in 2008. Rose grew up in rural Wyoming (“It doesn’t even make sense to say that I grew up in a small town ’cause the entire population of Wyoming is like half a million people,” he quips.), hunting, fishing and camping with his dad. It was, he admits, the romantic vision of boyhood in the American wilderness, an upbringing just shy of a Hemingway short story.

Wyoming’s landscape, and the items that Rose used to navigate it, had an impact. “I had a bunch of this old gear that was like Frostline and Gregory and Sierra Designs and original REI Co-op stuff — hand-me-downs from my parents — and that really built my aesthetic,” he says. When Rose set aside a career in medical animations and iOS builds to sew a backpack in his basement, it was those items that guided his mind and needle. “A lot of those brands were really hitting on this perfect, simple, classic look and feel, and at the time it was really cutting edge, but taking it out of that context and moving it thirty years into the future, it still held up,” Rose says.

Topo Designs products are retro, but they’re also decidedly contemporary. Its collection of backpacks, Dopp kits and duffels is characterized by geometric profiles — rectangles, triangles and circles — and bright primary colors. Technical elements such as ice-axe loops, webbing attachments and daisy chains are present but kept to a minimum. The point of these bags is not to conquer a mountain, but to integrate into a multitude of life’s facets: the outdoors, travel, lifestyle. “That’s where we always start,” Rose says, “It’s gotta fit a number of different needs.” Like an abstract painter, Rose’s reaction to the romanticized version of outdoor exploration, one characterized by extreme hardship in brutal environments and technically specialized gear, is best demonstrated through simplicity.

Ten years ago, when Rose created Topo Designs, consumers of outdoor gear weren’t as receptive to the vision of form over function, or even form equal to function, as demonstrated in one of Topo Designs’s earliest products, the Klettersack. “It just has this perfect marriage of classic style, classic elements… it works every day, from going to work to taking it out on the trail to travel,” as Rose describes it. Today, it’s a best seller and one of the staple pieces that Topo Designs keeps in its line every season; it’s also one of the first products that helped the company gain its initial following. But that didn’t happen in the US, it happened in Japan.

Japan has long fostered a market in which lifestyle-oriented outdoor products thrive. In fact, many notable US-based brands, including The North Face, Burton and Gregory, as well as lesser-known names like Datum, continue to produce gear that’s only sold in Japan. Topo Designs never had that intention, but its simple and utilitarian designs attracted the attention of a distributor there who, working with Rose, began selling its products. It wasn’t until later that Topo Designs began to catch on in the United States, first at boutiques in coastal cities like New York and L.A., and then in the mountain towns of the Rockies and other ranges. “We’re not the typical ‘start in your basement, sell it to your friends, sell it in your hometown, sell it to the town next door’ type of business — we started way far away and ended up working our way back,” says Rose.

“What happened, and what still happens all the time in Japan,” Rose continues, “is they really value the craft, simplicity and story behind a product. And simplicity can be paramount over complexity. Which is kind of difficult for us in the US to understand. That something that is stripped down can be more valuable than something that has every single bell and whistle on it.” It’s a view that places import on something other than technical prowess: story.

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enji Wagner is a storyteller. Before founding the outdoor company Poler in 2011, Wagner inhabited the action-sports realm of the industry, making films and shooting photos. Like Rose, it was his father that got him out into the woods and mountains at an early age. As the millennium’s first decade ended, Wagner began to feel that the outdoor industry was lacking something. “I didn’t feel that inspired by any of the brands in the way that I thought was possible,” he says. “It was just way too much focus on technical innovation and sheer engineering brilliance and product innovation rather than storytelling. The reason people are in the industry, and the reason all this gear is being made, is that they’re actually passionate about what they’re doing on the weekend, not because they’re passionate about a particular jacket.”

One of Poler’s first products is the quintessence of what Wagner is referring to. It’s a sleeping bag called the Napsack, which features a hood and a zipper that extends roughly halfway down its front. As stated on Poler’s website, the Napsack “is designed to maximize Camp Vibes and induce a euphoric, funfortable state of mind.” Wagner describes it as the “keystone item” for the brand. Its lower hem is equipped with a drawcord, and its shoulders can be zipped open to allow for the free use of one’s arms. It has pockets, it’s reversible and is available in a variety of prints, from rainbow florals to “shaggy camo.” It’s lighthearted, fun — youthful even. “It’s very rare to have a product that actually captures the spirit of a company,” says Wagner. And he’s right; the Napsack is Poler.

The Napsack is not, however, technical. The sleeping bag wouldn’t be well suited to a hut trip or an expedition, but that’s okay, this was Wagner’s intent. “The Napsack was meant to be something relatable and something like, ‘Hey, that’s fun and silly and still has this kind of spirit of adventure,’” he says. Its ideal uses are camping and couch surfing. “It’s also just kind of goofy and makes you look like a gnome — it’s fun and approachable. Six years ago when we launched, that was a very disruptive idea.”

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opo Designs and Poler addressed a series of issues and tapped into unidentified trends at a time when the outdoor industry was experiencing the growing pains that occur when a younger generation comes into its own. It’s not coincidence that both brands launched and grew parallel with the rise of Tumblr, Facebook and Instagram. Social media not only allowed small brands to grow organically without the need for expensive ad campaigns, it fostered exactly the type of storytelling that Rose and Wagner were craving.

Wagner used social media to launch Poler. Since then, his hashtag, #campvibes, has been used more than 1.5 million times and counting. “It’s kind of our ‘Just Do It,’” he says. Early on, Wagner also established a series of narrative photo essays called “Adventures” — a tact many brands have since replicated — that depict young people on road trips across America, exploring Iceland and camping on the beach in Baja. Napsacks and other Poler gear are the common motif. The images, many of which are shot on film, aren’t heavily composed, which makes each series feel similar to an old family album dug out from under a bed. They’re still romanticized scenes, but they make adventure feel accessible. And it’s just this type of storytelling that’s proven to resonate with the millenials and Generation Xers that are now becoming the biggest group of consumers of outdoor gear.

Older companies have failed to connect with these younger audiences, a result rooted in a lack of approachability. Almost all of them began, and still operate, with mountaineering as their North Star. The North Face was first a specialty mountaineering shop in San Francisco; Yvon Chouinard began what would become Patagonia by forging his own rock- climbing hardware and selling it out of his car; Marmot was an outdoors club that required its initiates to climb a glaciated peak in order to earn admittance. Even as these companies matured and others joined in to make apparel and gear, the message never changed. And as the industry grew, climbers like Ed Viesturs and Conrad Anker became revered athletes plastered on billboards and magazine covers.

That message doesn’t work anymore because most people don’t actually climb high peaks. Or any peaks, for that matter. Rose describes the industry’s traditional beat as focusing on “kind of unattainable aspirational events that you might possibly do in life, but probably not. Like climbing K2 or summiting Everest.” The current cost of a summit bid on the world’s tallest mountain averages around $45,000 — or in other words, just shy of a Chevy Suburban — but can quickly climb above $100,000. Smaller peaks come with less-prohibitive prices, but the heart of the matter is no different: mountaineering is an exclusive and expensive sport.

The new generation of outdoor companies is adjusting. Instead, they focus on van camping, cabin life and global travel. These are pursuits that intersect more closely with conventional life — things that people actually do. “The reality is that most people relate to the outdoors by doing something like going to the beach on the weekend or going on a hike,” says Wagner.

Rose and Wagner, along with the product designers behind other adolescent outdoor brands, reflect their inclusive vision through product. Instead of a $999 Himalayan climbing suit, they create puffy blankets, packable hammocks, campsite barista equipment and heaps of vibrant apparel and bags. They’re retro and new, simple and technical, versatile and capable.

And yet for all of their criticisms of the outdoor industry, neither Rose nor Wagner positions his brand in opposition to it. “Almost all of us here do some pretty serious outdoors stuff. I fish a ton, and we’re definitely not going to make a pair of waders,” says Rose. Wagner shares his attitude; “It’s not like we came out with this anti-technical-gear sentiment. Mountaineering is super-cool and mountaineers need really specific, very strong gear. But going to a music festival is not that.”

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ast fall, The North Face released a new jacket called the Ventrix. It was the brand’s first foray into active insulation — an extra-breathable, synthetic alternative to down — and it touts some serious innovation. As part of the launch, the brand created a video, compiling action clips of climbing’s brightest contemporary stars: Jimmy Chin, Alex Honnold and Emily Harrington. But there’s another face in the video that might go unrecognized by hardcore alpinists; it’s Maggie Rogers, a vocalist who went viral after a video surfaced of Pharrell Williams listening to, and being very impressed by, a single of hers titled, “Alaska.” As Chin skis toward a summit and Honnold and Harrington reach for precarious granite handholds, Rogers’s track, “Split Stones,” pulses and thrums in the background.

The North Face isn’t alone among the old guard of brands that are now adapting to a growing population of younger consumers. Salomon, a company with a long history and which regularly works closely with athletes to produce some of the most innovative and technical gear imaginable, recently rolled out a new brand strategy that revolves around its new, lighthearted tagline, “Time to Play.” And Burton, the relative elder of the still-maturing snowboard industry, has widened its offerings to include apparel, backpacks and luggage, as well as product collaborations with Red Wing and Vogue. Another Burton collaboration with Colorado-based Big Agnes produced a full collection of camping products including a sleeping bag, camp chairs and a tent, all printed with funky patterns reminiscent of another, younger outdoor brand — chalk it up to #campvibes.
The North Face’s response has been more calculated. At a superficial level, the company is adhering to its roots in mountaineering; it continues to design highly technical gear for the world’s most extreme conditions and relies on a team of elite outdoor athletes to promote the brand. “It’s the insights that come from athlete testing that influence every decision we make. Which material to use, how long a jacket is, how the hood fits, where pockets are placed,” says Jason Israel, Design Director of The North Face’s Mountain Sports division. But the Maggie Rogers Ventrix video reveals shifting sands, however subtle.

In 2015, The North Face launched a retail concept called Urban Exploration in two of its stores, one in Shanghai and the other in Hong Kong. Inside those stores was an exclusive new line of apparel and gear built for city life and designed using technical outdoor materials. The North Face continued to test the waters of streetwear in Asia for the next two years, and in 2017 the company brought a collection called the Black Series to the United States.

“The inspiration behind the Black Series product line was to take TNF’s strong DNA in performance and extend it into the urban environment,” explains Tim Sedo, Senior Brand Manager of The North Face Urban Exploration. “We developed this line because we believe that ‘outdoor’ as a category is much more than ‘the mountains’ and that we have a unique opportunity to equip people with performance-driven yet stylish products suited for urban outdoor life.” Black Series products won’t be found at REI and they’re not explicitly front-facing on The North Face’s website. But they are there, and that signals something. A slow change, maybe.

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arlier this year, style blogs erupted with fanfare when Kanye West was spotted wearing a plain black Nuptse jacket. In response, GQ hailed the Nuptse as “the perfect everyday sort of piece that’s built for sweats and sneakers and your favorite dad cap,” and “a solid-ass jacket.” Outdoor apparel continues to find its way onto the backs of movie stars and supermodels and is currently a staple on fashion runways from New York to Milan. Even Vogue.com’s Culture Editor, Alessandra Codinha, recently dubbed polyester fleece “ugly pretty” and claimed that “[her] heart belongs to the fleece.” Yes, “gorpcore” is “in,” and strappy Teva-like sandals, windbreakers and fleece are now fair game and even verging on standard fare for the likes of Louis Vuitton and Marc Jacobs.

A recent exhibition at New York City’s Museum of Modern Art titled, “Items: Is Fashion Modern?” featured 111 articles of clothing and accessories that have impacted the 20th and 21st centuries deeply enough to be displayed alongside Picasso and Van Gogh. Among the items was a red down jacket, and the plaque that accompanied it told the story of Eddie Bauer’s fateful trip into the mountains.