This week I moved all of it here, to mikeisoutside.com.

Why move? Mostly because I want to keep in touch with the people who read this stuff. Blogger was a fine place to write, but it didn't give anyone an easy way to come back. Now you can subscribe, and new posts will show up in your inbox. It's free, and it always will be.

What this is about

Looking back over 163 posts, two questions keep showing up.

The first is why time outdoors matters to us. Not just what we do outside, but what we get from it. The meaning we find in it, and the way certain places stick with us long after we leave.

The second is what it takes to lead well in conservation and outdoor recreation. How we manage parks and public lands, how we bring the next generation into this work, and how research can actually help the people doing it.

Some posts start with research. Some start with a book, a documentary, or a day on Crooked Creek. Most end up somewhere in between.

Where to start

If you're new, I put together a short list of the posts that best explain what this is about: Start Here.

What to expect

A couple of new posts a month. Some reflective, some practical, and a few that are just about a good day outside. You can reply to any email, and I'd genuinely like to hear what you're thinking about too.

Thanks for reading. Now go outside.

-Mike

Why time outdoors matters

Against the Grain and Finding Connection

Reading the Landscape: Reflections on Outdoor Recreation and Conservation

Sitting with Ceremony: A Reflection on Place and Healing

What Trail Journals Can Teach Us About Human-Nature Connections

A Walk Outside Matters More Than We Think

Conservation leadership

Outside the Classroom: Conservation, Education, and a Day in the Arkansas Ozarks

Growing Outdoor Recreation in Arkansas

Can We Actually Live With Carnivores?

What We're Building When We Build Trails

Research in practice

Beyond the Journal: Why Researchers Should Take Social Media Seriously

What Makes People Feel Safe in Parks?

And a day outside

Fishing, Food and Exploring North Central Arkansas

If any of these resonate, subscribe and new posts will come straight to your inbox. It's free.

I highly recommend How to Hold a Cockroach by Matthew Maxwell. This is my personal reflection on how the book made me question my assumptions, reconsider my perspective in relationships, and think about connections to Stoic philosophy and Brené Brown’s Rising Strong. It didn’t take me long to read, but almost every chapter made me stop and think about something in my own life.

I kept coming back to this question: Is this true, or have I simply believed it to be true for so long that I stopped questioning it?

I thought about beliefs I’ve carried since childhood. About how feelings and circumstances can lead us to conclusions that feel real, even when we may not fully understand what happened. I thought about current relationships, too, and how easily we read into someone’s words or actions through our own experiences, without really knowing what that person is going through.

Even the cockroach gives us something to consider. We see an intruder. From its perspective, it’s simply trying to survive. We’re part of the same encounter, but we experience it very differently.

I also found myself thinking about a few other books I’ve read recently and how their ideas connect. One was Brené Brown’s Rising Strong, particularly the idea of approaching people with the belief that they’re doing their best. That perspective gives me a reason to pause and consider what someone might be dealing with that I can’t see.

There was a connection to Stoic philosophy for me, too. I can’t always change a situation, but I can consider how I respond to it. I can try to understand it more fully before jumping to conclusions, then decide how to make the best of what’s in front of me.

None of that makes our feelings any less real. It does make me wonder how often I’ve confused my perspective with the whole picture. How often have I assumed I understood someone’s intentions? How much room have I left for an explanation I hadn’t considered?

I enjoyed having a reason to sit with those questions. This book made me ponder a lot in my life, and that’s why I’m recommending it.

It also made me think about my mornings on the back porch with a cup of coffee. I appreciate having that time to sit and think about what matters while feeling connected to nature. I don’t always come away with an answer. But I value having the time and space to give those thoughts some attention.

That’s where my thoughts wandered over to outdoor recreation. We spend a lot of time helping people figure out what to do outdoors. How often do we consider how those experiences might help them figure out what matters to them?

Every experience doesn’t need to lead to some big personal discovery. Sometimes a good afternoon outside is plenty. Still, I think the film raises useful questions for outdoor recreation professionals about the experiences we offer, the places we manage, and how we understand a successful visit.

Make room for different ways of connecting with nature

Some people enjoy a challenging trail or learning a demanding outdoor skill. Others want to sit near the water, watch birds, or make something with their hands. My time on the porch reminds me that feeling connected to nature can be pretty simple.

If our image of outdoor recreation mostly features people going farther, faster, or higher, we may be overlooking experiences that would give someone else a reason to participate. Look at our program calendars, photographs, and descriptions. Would someone interested in a quiet afternoon outdoors see a place for themselves?

That question has practical implications for recreation programming and park management. A comfortable place to sit and an unhurried stretch of time can be part of a worthwhile experience. We don’t have to fill every minute of a program. We can give people time to pay attention to their surroundings and decide what interests them.

Give people a reason to return

Introductory programs give people a place to start. But what happens when someone discovers an interest they want to pursue?

Are there opportunities to return, practice, ask questions, and spend time with others who enjoy it? A beginning birding walk might lead to regular outings. An introductory workshop might give someone a reason to keep working on a skill.

A connection may also develop through the simple act of coming back to a familiar place. I think about that with my mornings on the porch. There’s value for me in making time for something familiar. In our parks and outdoor programs, we can consider how to make continued participation easier for someone who wants it.

Look beyond attendance when thinking about success

Attendance matters. So do skills and the ability to participate safely. But I’d also want to know whether someone felt comfortable enough to try something unfamiliar. Whether they had time to enjoy being there. Whether they found something they wanted to return to.

Those questions tell us something that a participation count can’t.

For outdoor recreation professionals, a brief conversation after a program could help us understand those experiences. What did someone enjoy? What would they like to try again? Was there something that made it difficult to participate? Their answers can help us make decisions about future programs and the spaces that support them.

Let people tell us what the experience means

Two people can participate in the same activity and get very different things from it. One might enjoy learning the skill. Another might appreciate having time to concentrate on something without interruption.

We won’t necessarily know unless we give them a chance to tell us. And we should leave room for an ordinary answer. Someone may simply have enjoyed being outside. We don’t need to turn that into something bigger on their behalf.

What interests me is the possibility that an activity becomes something a person wants to make room for in their life. Carving wood, fishing, hiking, or watching birds might become part of how they understand their interests and what matters to them. Our role can be to provide an opportunity and enough support for them to explore it on their own terms.

I appreciated how Against the Grain got me thinking about all of this through something as specific as carving a spoon. My own example is a cup of coffee on the back porch. Neither has to look particularly impressive to someone else to be meaningful.

When we plan the next outdoor program or consider how people use a park, I’d like us to leave some room for that. Someone may want a challenge. Someone else may want a quiet place to sit and think. Both deserve consideration.

Watch Julian McIntosh’s Against the Grain on Vimeo.

What I love is the way they told their stories, the folks that work there… How they ended up in that shop. What they had experienced along the way. How they see their past and how they see the work they do now. You watch someone repair an instrument, then learn a little about their life, and you start to see that person differently. I really liked how the film gave us time to get to know them.

And then there are the kids who get those instruments. They may never know who repaired them, much less anything about that person’s life. But they get to make music because someone took the time and had the skill to make that instrument work again. There’s something about that connection I found uplifting.

Of course, my thoughts eventually wandered  more to my job and higher education.

We work alongside a lot of people whose stories we don’t really know. We know what they do. We know who to call when something needs fixing or when a student needs help. We might talk with them several times a week. But how did they get here? What experiences shaped how they approach their work? What do they enjoy about it, and what makes them feel like they’ve done something worthwhile at the end of the day? I wonder how often we actually ask.

We spend a lot of time in higher education talking about student success. And we should. But watching this film got me thinking about all the work that sits underneath that phrase. Someone helps a student sort out a registration problem. Someone keeps a lab working. Someone takes a few extra minutes to explain a process that makes perfect sense to us but is completely unfamiliar to the student standing in front of us.

From our side, it might be something we do every day. From the student’s side, it might be the thing that allows them to move forward.

I also think there’s something here for those of us in leadership. It’s easy to become familiar with what people do and assume that means we know them. Hearing how someone understands their own work might tell us quite a bit that a job description never could. We might learn something about what matters to them. We might even start to see a familiar part of our campus a little differently.

I liked that this documentary gave four people the chance to tell us those things. It made me curious about the stories I haven’t heard from people on my own campus.

If you have about 40 minutes, it’s free and fully available on YouTube. I’m glad I took the time.

Be good.

-Mike

This time, that meant a few days around Cotter, Mountain Home, Yellville, and the Buffalo National River in north central Arkansas. I managed to squeeze in some fishing, wade Crooked Creek, explore Tyler Bend, eat some good local food, sample a few Arkansas beers, and generally wander around a part of the state that is pretty easy to like.

A Quick Stop at Tyler Bend on the Buffalo National River

One of my first stops was Tyler Bend on the Buffalo National River. I didn't have any grand plans. I had a little extra time, my fishing gear was with me, and the Buffalo River was right there. That was enough. The water was a little low, but the area was still beautiful. I spent about an hour throwing a lure and hoping something would bite. Nothing did. Eventually, I gave up on the fish and started trying to skip rocks across the river. I wasn't particularly successful at that either.

So, for the record, my visit to Tyler Bend produced no fish and no impressive displays of rock-skipping ability. Still, it was a pretty damn good way to spend an hour. That's one of the things I like about places like the Buffalo National River. Every stop doesn't have to become an adventure. Sometimes you can pull over, walk down to the water, fish for a while, screw around skipping rocks, enjoy the scenery, and then get back on the road.

Staying in Cotter, Arkansas

For this trip, I stayed in Cotter, Arkansas, in the Cotter Historic River District. Cotter is a small town along the White River, and I liked it almost immediately. It was quiet, easy to get around, and made a good home base for exploring this part of northern Arkansas. I stayed at the Cotter Trout Lodge. My review is pretty simple: it was clean, comfortable, and uncomplicated. I like uncomplicated.

I don't need a hotel to be part of the entertainment when I'm traveling somewhere to actually spend time outside. Give me a comfortable bed, a clean room, and a good location, and I'm pretty happy. Cotter Trout Lodge checked those boxes for me, and being in the Historic River District put me in a good spot for the rest of my wandering.

Smallmouth Fishing on Crooked Creek

The fishing got considerably better when I made it over to Crooked Creek, just south of Yellville, Arkansas. I still had work to do during the day, but once I finished, I grabbed my fishing gear and headed for the creek to see if I could find some smallmouth bass.

This turned into one of my favorite parts of the trip. I found a couple of good holes, waded out until the water was about belly-button deep, and started working through a few different lures. Eventually, I figured out what they wanted. No, I'm not telling you what it was.

Over about two hours, I probably caught a dozen fish. Most were smallmouth bass, although a few other random fish decided to join the party. Nothing was particularly large. It didn't matter. Standing in Crooked Creek catching smallmouth after smallmouth was exactly what I wanted to be doing. And once in a while, I even remembered to stop fishing and look around.

The Scenery Along Crooked Creek

Crooked Creek deserves some attention even if you never make a cast. The stretches I explored south of Yellville had clear water, rocky banks, shallow runs, deeper holes, and the wooded Ozark scenery that makes this part of Arkansas so enjoyable. I took quite a few pictures while I was out there. Some had fish in them. Some didn't need fish.

There is something about wade fishing that makes you experience a creek differently. You're standing in it. You feel the current, notice the rocks beneath your feet, and gradually work your way upstream or downstream looking for the next promising spot. Of course, you're also occasionally standing belly-button deep in water wondering whether your phone is as high above the waterline as you think it is.

It's all part of the experience.

Dinner and Beer at Rapp's Barren Brewing Company in Mountain Home

One evening took me over to Mountain Home, Arkansas, where I stopped at Rapp's Barren Brewing Company. I ordered the Buffalo chicken grilled cheese with fries. This was an excellent decision.

I also tried a flight of four beers, which naturally required me to rank them. My order was:

1. Arktoberfest

2. Lucky Dawg Lager

3. My Sweet Mountain Home

4. Twin Lakes Imperial Stout

Arktoberfest was easily my favorite, which makes complete sense given my usual beer preferences. Lucky Dawg Lager was a solid second. There was then some distance between those two and the others for me. But that's the point of getting a flight. You don't have to love everything. You get to try several beers, decide what works for you, and probably discover something you'd order again. For me, that was Arktoberfest.

The food was great, I enjoyed trying the beers, and Rapp's Barren was a good stop during my evening in Mountain Home.

BBQ at KT's Smokehouse in Gassville

The next night, I stopped at KT's Smokehouse in Gassville, Arkansas. I went with a pulled chicken sandwich and mac and cheese. Both were really good. But what I remember most about KT's wasn't actually the food. It was my server. I had never been there before and wasn't quite sure what I wanted. Instead of simply waiting for me to figure it out, she talked me through the menu, explained some of the options, and helped me decide what to order. She was friendly, patient, and genuinely helpful.

Good service can change the entire feel of a restaurant, particularly when you're traveling alone and walking into someplace you've never been. The food would have been enough for me to leave happy. The service made KT's someplace I'd gladly visit again.

A Few Days Around North Central Arkansas

None of this was particularly elaborate. I didn't catch a trophy smallmouth. I didn't land anything at Tyler Bend. I apparently still can't skip a rock worth a damn. I stayed in a simple motel. I ate BBQ and a Buffalo chicken grilled cheese. I drank a few local beers. I stood belly-button deep in Crooked Creek and caught a bunch of small fish. And I had a really good time.

That's probably what I liked most about exploring this part of north central Arkansas. Cotter, Yellville, Gassville, Mountain Home, Crooked Creek, the White River, and the Buffalo National River are all close enough together that you don't need an elaborate itinerary. There is plenty to do, but you can also just wander. Fish for an hour. Stop somewhere for dinner. Try a local beer. Drive down a road because there's a creek at the end of it. Take a few pictures. Spend a little longer somewhere than you intended.

Sometimes that's enough. And sometimes wasting a little time is the whole point.

On a regular ol' Monday, I headed toward Huntsville, Arkansas, to spend the day at the McIlroy Wildlife Management Area as part of my service with the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission’s Administrators of Conservation Education program. By the time I made it home, though, the trip had turned into a pretty good example of what we would spend much of the day talking about.

There was an old Civilian Conservation Corps camp on the way in. There was water testing, stream work, caves, bats, conservation education, and some pretty serious conversations at McIlroy. Then there was one more stop at an Arkansas state park on the way home. Not a bad way to spend a Monday.

Starting the Day at Ozone Recreation Area

On the way to Huntsville, I made a stop at the Ozone Recreation Area in the Ozark-St. Francis National Forests. Ozone is one of those places that is easy to drive right past if you are not looking for it. Today it serves as a campground and recreation area, but it is also the site of a former Civilian Conservation Corps camp. The CCC played an important role in developing and improving public lands across Arkansas and the country during the 1930s, and some of that history is still visible at Ozone.

I did not spend a huge amount of time there, but that really was not the point. Places like Ozone are a reminder that many of the public lands we enjoy today did not just happen. People built them, improved them, managed them, protected them, and continued taking care of them long after the original work was done.

That seemed like a pretty appropriate way to start a day focused on conservation.

A Day at McIlroy Wildlife Management Area

From Ozone, I continued north toward Huntsville and the McIlroy Wildlife Management Area for our Administrators of Conservation Education meeting. The ACE program brings administrators from around Arkansas together with the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission’s Education Division to explore conservation, environmental education, outdoor recreation, and ways we can create more opportunities for students to connect with the natural world. The current group includes administrators from both K-12 and postsecondary education.

At McIlroy, we got to do some of the learning ourselves. We worked through Stream Team activities and water testing. We talked about Arkansas caves, bats, and white-nose syndrome. We also spent time with some of the simulation and educational tools AGFC uses to help students better understand caves, wildlife, water quality, ecosystems, and conservation. And, yes, part of my workday involved standing in a stream.

I am not going to complain about that. McIlroy itself is a pretty impressive setting for those conversations. The wildlife management area covers more than 15,000 acres north of Huntsville, giving AGFC a real-world setting for wildlife management, habitat work, and conservation.

There is also something different about learning when you actually put the equipment in someone's hands. You can talk about water quality in a classroom. You can show slides about watersheds, caves, wildlife disease, habitat, and ecosystems. But collecting a sample, testing it, looking at the results, and figuring out what those results actually mean is different. The same thing happens when students walk through a habitat, interact with a simulation, examine something they have only read about, or talk directly with someone whose job involves managing natural resources. It becomes real.

Getting Students Outside

Some of the more serious conversations during the day focused on the Generation Conservation Summit and a bigger question: How do we create more meaningful outdoor learning opportunities for students at every level of education? I think that is a conversation worth having. Outdoor learning should not just be treated as a field trip, a reward, or a break from the "real" learning taking place inside a classroom. The outdoors can be the classroom.

Students can collect data from a stream. They can study wildlife habitat. They can learn about geology and caves. They can look at how recreation affects natural resources. They can see how biology, chemistry, environmental science, public policy, tourism, recreation, and land management all run into one another.

More importantly, they can start asking questions.

Why does this stream look different from another one?

What is happening upstream?

Why are certain wildlife populations changing?

What happens when something like white-nose syndrome affects a wildlife population?

Who manages these places?

Who decides how they are used?

What responsibility do the rest of us have for them?

Those are good questions for a fifth grader. They are also good questions for a college student.

AGFC has been putting quite a bit of effort into expanding this kind of conservation and outdoor education across Arkansas, including Stream Team, Generation Conservation, conservation leadership programs, and other field-based educational opportunities.

This Matters in Higher Education, Too

Much of my life is spent in higher education, so I naturally look at these conversations through that lens. Hands-on education should not stop when a student graduates from high school. College students need experiences that allow them to take what they are learning and actually do something with it. They need opportunities to work with professionals, collect data, conduct research, visit organizations, solve real problems, and see how what they are studying connects to careers and communities.

Part of what we should be doing in higher education is making sure students get those experiences as they progress through school and begin building the foundation for whatever comes next. And that takes more than good courses. It takes relationships. Faculty and administrators have to keep building connections with the people and organizations doing the work in the field. We need to know what they are seeing, what problems they are trying to solve, and what they need from the people who will eventually enter their professions.

Those relationships can turn into internships, research projects, field experiences, guest speakers, partnerships, career opportunities, or sometimes just a much better conversation with a student who is trying to figure out what he or she wants to do next. This is part of how we connect education to life after school.

One More Stop at Withrow Springs State Park

 After leaving McIlroy, I made one more stop before heading home. Withrow Springs State Park is just outside Huntsville, and I had enough time to walk around the spring, take a few pictures, and spend a little time on one of the trails. It is not one of Arkansas's largest state parks, and I did not have nearly enough time to really explore it. But that was okay.

After spending much of the day talking about getting students outside and helping people develop a connection with the places around them, it seemed appropriate to end the trip by doing exactly that myself. Sometimes you do not need a major expedition. Sometimes you stop, walk a trail for a little while, look around, take a few pictures, and then get back on the road. That counts, too.

Public Lands, Conservation, and Education

Looking back at the whole day, the three stops fit together better than I planned. At Ozone, I got a glimpse of the history behind the development and stewardship of our public lands. At McIlroy, I spent the day with educators and conservation professionals talking about how we help the next generation understand those lands, the wildlife that depend on them, and the natural resources around us.

At Withrow Springs, I simply got to enjoy one of those places. There is a connection there. Conservation education is certainly about teaching students about wildlife, water, habitat, and natural resources. But I think it is bigger than that. It teaches students to pay attention. To ask questions. To collect information. To solve problems. To understand that complicated issues rarely have simple answers.

And, especially for students in Arkansas, it gives them a better understanding of the state around them. Not every student who tests water in a stream or learns about wildlife management is going to become a wildlife biologist, conservation officer, environmental scientist, park professional, or land manager. That is not really the point.

For some students, though, an experience like that may introduce them to a career they did not know existed. For others, maybe it simply gives them a little more understanding of the places they live, recreate, hunt, fish, hike, paddle, or visit with their families. Both matter.

I am grateful for the opportunity to serve in the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission’s Administrators of Conservation Education program and to spend time learning alongside educators, administrators, and conservation professionals from around Arkansas. There is a lot we can teach inside a classroom. There are also some things that make a lot more sense once you put on a pair of boots and go see them for yourself.

TL;DR: Publishing research is not the same as getting it into the hands of people who can use it. Peer-reviewed journals matter, but social media can be a valuable tool for helping researchers reach practitioners, policymakers, community leaders, and the public. The goal is not to turn every academic into an influencer. It is to make good research easier to find, understand, and use.

I recently read something about how scientists and academics sometimes roll their eyes at the idea of becoming social media “influencers.” That sent me down a bit of a rabbit hole, and I found plenty of articles and posts arguing that researchers should be doing more on social media. That is perhaps not terribly surprising when you are looking for them on LinkedIn, but it got me thinking about something I have believed for a long time. We place an enormous amount of value on publishing in top peer-reviewed journals, and we should. Peer review does some important things. It separates a lot of the wheat from the chaff, challenges our thinking, makes us defend our methods, and forces us to demonstrate that our conclusions are actually supported by something. Then, sometimes, we give all that good information a very nice place to die. 

A few years ago, a friend published in one of the top journals in my field. I pulled up the issue and noticed another friend had an article in the same issue, so I asked the first friend if they had seen it. Nope. Were they going to read it? Probably not. That conversation has always stuck with me, so I decided I would read it myself. I made it about two pages. I skimmed a good chunk of the literature review, skipped the methodology, worked my way through some of the results, and eventually got to the discussion. Ah, there it was. Good stuff. Good science. Useful findings. Some interesting things to think about. Nothing that was going to completely revolutionize the profession, but solid research worthy of a very good journal. And I remember thinking, who is going to read this who can actually use it? 

Editors read it. Reviewers read it. Researchers working on closely related topics might find it. Graduate students will certainly encounter articles like it because people like me make them read them. All of that matters. But what about the professionals working in the field? Many do not have easy access to academic journals, and even if they do, they may not have the time or desire to sit down after a full day of work and read a 20-page research article written primarily for reviewers and other academics. Sometimes we academics get frustrated by that and say, “Practitioners need to read the research.” Sure. But maybe we also need to ask whether our approach to research dissemination and knowledge translation is putting that work into a form they can realistically use. 

That does not mean every piece of scholarship needs to be aimed at the general public. If you are doing basic cancer research, for example, your most important audience may very well be other scientists who can take what you learned and move the work another step forward. But many of us work in applied fields like education, business, recreation, public administration, health, community development, leadership, and plenty of others. If the purpose of our research is ultimately to help improve what people do in the real world, at some point the information has to make it into the real world. Research impact depends on more than publication. It also depends on whether useful knowledge reaches the people who can act on it. 

That is where I think social media for academics and researchers deserves much more serious consideration. Not as a replacement for journals, and not as a replacement for conferences. I am also not suggesting that every professor needs to become a TikTok star or start chasing clicks. Social media can simply be another form of science communication, academic outreach, and research dissemination, and increasingly, I think it is an important one. Practitioners are there. Community leaders are there. Policymakers are there. Students are there. People who are simply curious are there. They may never search an academic database for your article, and they may never know the report exists, but they might stop for a LinkedIn post that explains one finding. They might watch a short video, see a graphic, listen to a podcast, or follow a link because something you shared made them think, “That actually applies to what we are dealing with.” 

In my own field, Statewide Comprehensive Outdoor Recreation Plans, or SCORPs, are a good example. These plans can contain incredibly rich information about recreation needs, participation, communities, trends, priorities, public input, and much more. There can be tremendous energy surrounding their development, and then the final report comes out and too often much of that information metaphorically sits on a shelf. The information is technically available, but available and communicated are not necessarily the same thing. Could some of that information be broken down at the county level? Could a finding become a post directed toward local park and recreation professionals? Could researchers make a short presentation for a community? Could one useful piece of a large report become a graphic that gets passed around among professionals who otherwise would never open the full document? I do not think there is one answer. The audience should help determine the format.

 I also do not think “simplification” is automatically a bad word. I cannot intelligently read an astrophysics paper about black holes, but I can listen to Neil deGrasse Tyson explain the basic idea and come away understanding something I did not understand before. Was a tremendous amount of detail left out? Of course. That is the point. Good science communication does not require preserving every methodological detail in every communication. The goal is to stay true to the research, be honest about what it says, avoid distorting the findings, know your audience, and then communicate with them in a way that gives them a realistic chance of engaging with the information. 

And yes, this is more work. Anyone who has spent months, sometimes years, getting a manuscript finished knows how much energy has already gone into the process. Now I am suggesting we think about another post, a video, a professional summary, or some other way of communicating the work? I get it. But I also think new tools make that process easier than it once was. AI tools for researchers, used thoughtfully, can help identify the most useful pieces of a study, think through potential audiences, adapt language for different groups, brainstorm formats, develop posts or scripts, understand SEO and GEO, and build a reasonable research dissemination plan. The researcher still has to be the expert and still has to make sure the information is accurate, but we have tools that can make the translation process much less daunting. 

There is another reason I think this matters. Higher education is not exactly enjoying unlimited public goodwill right now, and perhaps we have contributed to that problem. For a long time, we have been very good at talking to one another. We publish in our journals, attend our conferences, present to rooms filled largely with other academics, and celebrate when our peers review and accept our work. There is nothing inherently wrong with any of that, but then we sometimes wonder why people outside higher education do not understand what universities contribute. Maybe better higher education outreach and public engagement are part of the answer. Maybe we need to show people more of the useful work happening inside our institutions. 

Our job is to educate students, certainly, but our expertise, scholarship, research, and creative work should also help the larger world. If we dismiss social media as beneath serious academics while much of the world increasingly uses those platforms to find and digest information, we may be contributing to the very disconnect we complain about. Times changed. The way people find information changed. That does not mean scholarship has to become clickbait. It means we might need to become better at meeting people where they are, being useful, being accurate, staying true to the work, and being there for the people who want to find us. 

I am thinking about writing a follow-up piece about what research dissemination through social media could actually look like in practice, at least from my point of view. What should researchers share? Where should we share it? How do we decide what belongs on LinkedIn versus Instagram, YouTube, a blog, a podcast, or somewhere else? Where can AI genuinely help, and how do we do all of this without losing the integrity of the work? 

I would really like to hear from both academics and practitioners. What research or information do you wish were easier to find and understand? And for the researchers out there, what gets in the way of sharing more of your work beyond the journal page?

This article was originally published on my LinkedIn page, where I first shared these thoughts as part of a broader conversation about research, outreach, and the role of social media in academic work. To view, please visit: www.linkedin.com/in/mikeisoutside

The Scenic Drive from Clarksville to Oark

Getting to Oark is part of the experience. Heading north from Clarksville, it doesn’t take long before the road starts working its way into the hills and the scenery changes considerably. The farther I went, the better the drive became, with winding roads, forest-covered hills, elevation changes, and the kind of scenery that makes you quit worrying quite so much about how long it takes to get somewhere. Oark is tucked away in northern Johnson County, surrounded by the Ozark National Forest and not far from the upper reaches of the Mulberry River. It feels removed from Clarksville today, even with good roads and a Jeep, so it isn’t difficult to imagine just how isolated the community once was.

That isolation is actually an important part of the history of the Oark General Store. The store dates to around 1890 and is listed on the Arkansas Register of Historic Places. According to the Arkansas Historic Preservation Program, Oark’s geography once made even a trip to nearby Clarksville difficult, so the general store became an important source of groceries, supplies, and other necessities for people living in the community. It also served as a gathering place and a market for locally produced crops, timber products, and furs. Local history indicates that the building likely served as Oark’s post office during the early 1900s as well. Today, the store bills itself as the oldest continually operated store in Arkansas.

Finally Making It to the Oark General Store

Apparently I wasn’t the only person who thought a trip to Oark sounded good that day. There was plenty of parking when I arrived, but man, the place was packed. Every seat I could see inside was taken, which probably tells you something about how much the Oark General Store has changed over the years. What began as an essential supply point for an isolated mountain community has gradually become a destination of its own. The store says that over roughly the past two decades it has shifted from primarily groceries and supplies toward being a full-service restaurant, while still maintaining some of its traditional general-store role. Its location also puts it right in the middle of an area popular with motorcyclists, hikers, campers, off-road travelers, and people exploring the Ozarks.

With the inside full, I found a spot under the covered outdoor seating area. They had fans running, and to be honest, it wasn’t bad at all. I kept lunch pretty simple and ordered a bacon cheeseburger and a bottled soda. The burger was FANTASTIC. Not “pretty good for a little place way out in the Ozarks” good. It was just a legitimately great burger. I’ve heard plenty about the pies at Oark too, so apparently I’ve already given myself an excuse for another visit.

After hearing about the place for so long, I was glad I finally made it happen. The history certainly makes the Oark General Store interesting, but I don’t think the place survives on history or novelty alone. People keep driving out there because it’s a fun destination, the setting is beautiful, and at least based on my bacon cheeseburger, the food gives you a pretty good reason to come back.

Heading West Along the Mulberry River

After lunch, I climbed back into the Gladiator and continued exploring. From Oark, I headed farther into the Ozarks toward Wolf Pen Recreation Area, roughly 20 minutes or so west of Oark along the Mulberry River. This was less about getting somewhere quickly and more about enjoying the drive. I stopped at a few places along the way, took some photos, wandered around a bit, and managed to find just a smidge of water in a few spots to splash through.

The Mulberry was definitely running low during my visit. This wasn’t going to be a day of dramatic water crossings or watching a raging Ozark river roll past. Still, low water has its advantages when you’re just out exploring. I could get a better look at the riverbed in places, poke around some areas I might not otherwise have stopped at, and enjoy having the Gladiator somewhere other than pavement for a while.

The Mulberry River itself has an interesting place in Arkansas outdoor recreation history. It begins in the Boston Mountains and flows roughly 56 miles before eventually reaching the Arkansas River. In April 1992, Congress included the Mulberry in the National Wild and Scenic Rivers System, protecting a combination of scenic and recreational sections of the river. The river is particularly known for canoeing and paddling when water levels cooperate, along with fishing, swimming, camping, and the scenery of the surrounding Ozark Mountains. Wolf Pen is specifically identified as one of the established public access points along the river.

A Stop at Wolf Pen Recreation Area

Wolf Pen Recreation Area is a small Forest Service site directly along the Mulberry River in the Ozark National Forest. It isn’t a developed campground packed with amenities, and that is probably part of its appeal. The Forest Service currently lists six primitive campsites at Wolf Pen, along with river access and vault toilets. There are no electrical hookups or drinking water at the campground. It is the kind of place geared more toward somebody wanting a simple spot along the river than someone looking for a resort-style camping experience.

I spent a little time there walking around, checking out the river, and taking some photos. With the water as low as it was, Wolf Pen probably wasn’t showing off quite as much as it would after a wet stretch in the Ozarks, but I still enjoyed the stop. There’s something I like about these smaller Forest Service recreation areas. They don’t necessarily give you a huge attraction or a checklist of things you’re supposed to see. Sometimes there’s just a river, some trees, a gravel road, and enough room to wander around for a while.

That was really the theme of the afternoon. I wasn’t trying to conquer a difficult off-road trail or find some spectacular hidden destination. I was just exploring. I found a little water here and there, splashed the Jeep through some of it, stopped when something looked interesting, took a few pictures, and kept moving.

A Pretty Good Day in the Arkansas Ozarks

By the time I headed back, I’d finally checked the Oark General Store off a list that had been sitting there since I moved to Arkansas, eaten one seriously good bacon cheeseburger, driven some beautiful Ozark roads, spent time along the Mulberry River, and explored Wolf Pen Recreation Area in the Jeep Gladiator.

None of it required a complicated itinerary. That may have been the best part.

If you’re looking for a day trip from Clarksville, Arkansas, I’d have no problem recommending this general route. Take your time driving north into the Ozarks, stop for lunch at the Oark General Store, then keep going and explore some of the public lands and river access points around the Mulberry. Water levels, road conditions, and weather can obviously change what you’re able to do, particularly along the river, but there’s plenty to see even when the water is low.

And if you stop at Oark hungry, get the burger. I can personally vouch for that part.

During my recent trip to Chicago, some of the most interesting architecture I encountered was not among the skyscrapers downtown. It was a short train ride west in Oak Park, Illinois, where Frank Lloyd Wright lived, worked, and developed ideas that would help transform American architecture.

I made the trip to tour the Frank Lloyd Wright Home and Studio, then spent time walking through the surrounding historic district. I also found a quiet little park nearby that offered a nice break between all the architecture. Together, the three stops made Oak Park one of the most memorable parts of my visit to the Chicago area.

Touring the Frank Lloyd Wright Home and Studio

Frank Lloyd Wright built his Oak Park home in 1889 and used it as both a family residence and a place to test architectural ideas. In 1898, he added the adjoining studio, where Wright and his team created work that helped establish the distinctly American Prairie style.

The guided tour offered by the Frank Lloyd Wright Trust takes visitors through the home’s family spaces, library, drafting room, and studio. It was fascinating to see how Wright experimented with light, space, materials, furniture, and decorative details throughout the property.

The home does not feel like a static display of architectural history. It feels more like an architectural laboratory. Wright was testing ideas in the same place where he and his family lived, sometimes challenging basic assumptions about how rooms should be arranged and how people should move through a house.

Some features were beautiful. Others were unusual enough to make me stop and think about what he was trying to accomplish. That was one of the best parts of the tour. It did not simply present Wright as a famous name. It showed an architect working through ideas, taking chances, and gradually developing a style that would influence buildings far beyond Oak Park.

The adjoining studio adds another layer to the visit. The drafting room, library, and working spaces make it easier to imagine Wright and his team producing designs there. The tour connects the professional work taking place in the studio with the experimentation visible throughout the family home.

For anyone interested in Wright, historic homes, or American architecture, the tour is worth the trip from Chicago. Even people who do not know much about Prairie School architecture can come away with a better understanding of what made Wright’s work so different.

Walking the Frank Lloyd Wright Historic District

After touring the Home and Studio, I explored the surrounding Frank Lloyd Wright Historic District using the Trust’s self-guided audio walking tour. Oak Park has the largest concentration of Wright-designed buildings in the world, so the neighborhood is not just a setting for the Home and Studio. It is an important part of the experience.

The audio tour shares the stories behind Wright-designed homes along the route and points out details that helped shape his Prairie style. Seeing the houses together made it easier to recognize recurring elements, including strong horizontal lines, broad rooflines, bands of windows, sheltered entrances, and designs that seem connected to the land around them.

Walking the neighborhood also reveals how Wright’s ideas developed across different projects. Individual houses may look very different from one another, but certain patterns begin to emerge as the tour continues. It is one thing to read about an architectural movement. It is another to see it unfolding house by house along a few residential streets.

The homes along the route are privately owned. Visitors should enjoy and photograph the architecture respectfully from the public sidewalks. Fortunately, there is plenty to see without intruding on anyone’s property.

I would recommend the audio tour even for visitors who have already completed the guided Home and Studio tour. The two experiences complement one another. The guided tour provides a close look at Wright’s personal and professional spaces, while the walking tour shows how his ideas appeared across the larger neighborhood.

A Quiet Stop at Austin Gardens

Near the Home and Studio, I came across Austin Gardens, a small urban woodland managed by the Park District of Oak Park. After concentrating on historic homes and architectural details, its wooded paths and wildflowers offered a peaceful change of pace.

Henry W. Austin Jr. donated the land to the Park District of Oak Park in 1947 with the condition that it remain a public park bearing the Austin family name. Today, it feels like a pocket of woodland tucked into the middle of the village.

Austin Gardens is not a large park, and it does not require a long visit. That is part of what makes it such an easy addition to an Oak Park day trip. It is close to the main architectural attractions and provides a quiet place to walk, take a few photographs, or simply slow down before continuing through the neighborhood.

Planning an Oak Park Architecture Day Trip

The Frank Lloyd Wright Home and Studio is located at 951 Chicago Avenue in Oak Park, Illinois. From downtown Chicago, take the westbound CTA Green Line to the Oak Park stop. The Home and Studio is about a 15- to 20-minute walk north of the station.

Austin Gardens is located nearby at 167 Forest Avenue. Because the park, Home and Studio, and historic district are close together, they can easily be combined into one walking itinerary.

I would plan enough time for the guided tour, the self-guided neighborhood walk, photographs, and a relaxed stop at Austin Gardens. Comfortable walking shoes are a good idea, especially if you take the train and explore the district on foot. Tour schedules and ticket availability can change, so check with the Frank Lloyd Wright Trust before making the trip.

Is Oak Park Worth the Trip from Chicago?

For anyone interested in Frank Lloyd Wright, Prairie School architecture, historic homes, or walkable neighborhoods, the answer is yes. Oak Park is easy to reach from downtown Chicago, but it feels very different from the city’s riverfront towers and crowded attractions.

My Chicago architecture cruise showed me how architects shaped a major city skyline. Oak Park offered something more intimate. It allowed me to walk through the home where Wright tested his ideas, stand inside the studio where those ideas became professional work, and then see how they spread through the surrounding neighborhood.

That combination made Oak Park more than a side trip. It became one of the highlights of my time in the Chicago area and a place I would recommend to anyone interested in seeing where a distinctly American architectural style began to take shape.

Chicago is the kind of city that almost demands to be explored on foot. During my recent visit, I spent a lot of time walking through parks, museums, neighborhoods, and the streets downtown. The Canadian wildfire smoke had drifted into the city, leaving a noticeable haze around the skyline. It softened some of the views and made Chicago look a little different than it normally might, but it did not keep me from getting out, exploring, and taking far too many pictures along the way.

What stood out most was the variety packed into the city. Within the same trip, I found world-famous art, unusual public sculptures, quiet natural spaces, impressive architecture, a free zoo, excellent food, and even a little Harry Potter magic.

One of my most interesting architecture days actually took me beyond Chicago to nearby Oak Park, where I toured the Frank Lloyd Wright Home and Studio and walked through the surrounding historic district. That part of the trip deserves a story of its own, and it will be the focus of my next post.

Millennium Park and Maggie Daley Park

No visit to downtown Chicago would be complete without spending some time in Millennium Park. Naturally, I had to get a few pictures of Cloud Gate, better known as “The Bean.” Its mirrored surface reflects the surrounding skyline while also producing some entertainingly distorted views of everyone gathered beneath it. It may be one of Chicago’s most photographed attractions, but seeing it in person still makes it worth pulling out the camera.

The Bean was not the only art that caught my attention. I also came across two unusual interpretations of the Statue of Liberty by artist Zaq Landsberg. Reclining Liberty shows Lady Liberty stretched out and apparently taking a well-earned break. Nearby, Flame of Liberty looks as though her torch has fallen onto the sidewalk and begun melting into the pavement. Both pieces were unexpected, a little strange, and memorable. They also reminded me that Millennium Park offers much more than its most famous attraction.

Just across the BP Pedestrian Bridge, Maggie Daley Park feels like one enormous playground tucked among the downtown skyscrapers. Its Play Garden is filled with winding paths, towers, bridges, slides, and colorful spaces designed for children to explore. I did not have children with me, but it was still interesting to walk through and see how naturally the play areas had been incorporated into the landscape.

The park also includes a climbing wall, mini golf, open green space, and the winding skating ribbon, which becomes a walking and roller-skating path during warmer weather. Because the two parks are connected, Maggie Daley Park is an easy addition to a walk through Millennium Park and the downtown lakefront area.

Grant Park: Agora and Buckingham Fountain

Grant Park offered two very different photo stops. The first was Agora, a collection of towering, headless, and armless iron figures. The sculptures are strange, a little unsettling, and difficult to ignore. Walking among them feels almost like moving through a silent crowd, with each figure headed in a different direction but none possessing a face or identity.

From there, I made my way to Buckingham Fountain, one of the most recognizable sights in Grant Park. The fountain, skyline, and surrounding green space created some of my favorite views from the trip. Together, Agora and Buckingham Fountain captured something I noticed repeatedly in Chicago. Formal landmarks and experimental public art often sit within walking distance of one another, giving the city an interesting visual rhythm.

A Chicago River Architecture Cruise

One of the best decisions I made during the trip was taking a Chicago River architecture cruise with Wendella Boats. I had already walked past many of the buildings downtown, but seeing them from the water gave me an entirely different appreciation for the city.

The tour guide provided a nearly nonstop stream of information about the buildings, the architects who designed them, and the way Chicago’s skyline developed over time. There was so much to see and hear that it was nearly impossible to absorb all of it. Historic buildings stand beside modern glass towers, and each bend in the river reveals another view of the city.

The wildfire smoke still hung over the skyline, but the haze gave some of my photographs an interesting atmosphere. It was not the clear blue sky I might have chosen, but it became part of the experience and gave the city a distinctive look.

One practical suggestion for anyone planning the same cruise is to find a seat near the middle of the boat. The guide constantly points out buildings on both sides of the river, so you will spend much of the trip looking back and forth. Sitting near the center makes that much easier.

An Afternoon at the Art Institute of Chicago

The Art Institute of Chicago feels a little like traveling through centuries of creativity in a single afternoon. Its collection is enormous and remarkably broad. I saw works such as Vincent van Gogh’s Self-Portrait and Grant Wood’s American Gothic, along with many other pieces I had previously encountered only in books or reproductions. Seeing familiar works in person is a very different experience. You notice the scale, color, texture, and small details that rarely translate fully to a page or screen.

Even with a map, navigating the museum’s buildings, floors, galleries, and connecting hallways became an adventure of its own. More than once, I thought I knew where I was going and ended up somewhere completely different. Of course, getting lost usually meant stumbling across another remarkable piece of art.

I only had time to explore part of the museum. Honestly, a person could spend several days there and still not take in everything. It is already high on my list for a return visit, preferably when I have much more time.

Lincoln Park Zoo and Nature Boardwalk

Lincoln Park offered a welcome change of pace from downtown. The Lincoln Park Zoo is fairly compact compared with many zoos I have visited, but it has a good variety of animals, pleasant grounds, and an easy walking layout. Best of all, admission is completely free.

Most visitors probably will not need an entire day. I would allow around three hours, which makes the zoo easy to combine with other stops in the neighborhood. It was an enjoyable place to walk, and I managed to get some fun animal photographs along the way.

Just beyond the zoo is Nature Boardwalk, which circles South Pond. The mix of water, native plants, birds, and skyline views made it feel surprisingly peaceful for a place in the middle of such a large city. It is not a long trail, but it provides a good place to slow down after walking through the zoo.

The boardwalk is more than a scenic path. It also serves as a living laboratory where Lincoln Park Zoo studies urban wildlife and the ways people and wildlife can coexist in a major city. That purpose made the area even more interesting. It is a carefully designed natural space, but it does not feel artificial. The changing views across the pond made it one of the most relaxing stops of my trip.

Exploring Chicago's Chinatown

I also spent some time exploring Chicago’s Chinatown. To be honest, the shopping area was a little more underwhelming than I expected. Many stores seemed to carry the same inexpensive souvenirs, so there was not as much variety to explore as I had hoped.

The food, however, was excellent and easily the highlight of the visit. The neighborhood is still worth experiencing for its restaurants, colorful signs, public art, and distinctive architecture. I found several interesting scenes to photograph while walking around, even if the shopping itself did not quite live up to my expectations.

Not every stop on a trip has to be spectacular to be worthwhile. Sometimes the honest answer is that one part was disappointing while another was well worth the visit. In Chinatown, I would go back for the food and spend less time browsing souvenir shops.

Harry Potter Shop Chicago on the Magnificent Mile

One of the lighter stops of the trip was the Harry Potter Shop on Chicago’s Magnificent Mile. I mainly went in to look around and pick up a few gifts for the kids, but the store was enjoyable in its own right. It was filled with Hogwarts merchandise, wands, clothing, sweets, and colorful displays designed to tempt just about any Harry Potter fan.

I also had to get a picture with the wand belonging to my favorite character, Luna Lovegood. Her wonderfully odd personality and willingness to be herself have always made her one of the best characters in the series.

Of course, I tried a frozen Butterbeer. My official review is that it was interesting. I am glad I tried it, but I am not quite ready to order a second one. Still, the store was a fun break from museums, parks, and architecture, and it gave me plenty of magical details to photograph.

A City Worth Revisiting

This visit gave me only a partial view of Chicago, but that may be part of the city’s appeal. There is always another neighborhood, museum gallery, building, park, or restaurant waiting around the corner. I liked that Chicago could feel enormous and busy in one moment, then quiet and surprisingly peaceful a few blocks later.

The wildfire smoke changed the skyline and kept some of the views from being as crisp as I might have hoped. Even so, the haze became part of the story of this particular visit. I still came home with photographs I liked, a better appreciation for Chicago’s architecture and public spaces, and a growing list of places I want to explore when I return.

I saw a great deal, but Chicago made it clear that I had only scratched the surface.

The trip did not end at the city limits. My day in Oak Park offered a closer look at Frank Lloyd Wright’s home, studio, and the neighborhood where his Prairie style took shape. In my next post, I will share what it was like to tour the property, follow the historic district walking route, and take a quiet break in nearby Austin Gardens.

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A recent Inside Higher Ed article examining changing federal priorities for higher education grants highlighted familiar themes in our current policy discussions: workforce development, economic impact, artificial intelligence, state partnerships, and return on investment. While the article focused primarily on federal funding priorities, it also underscored a broader question that extends well beyond grant competitions. As states compete to attract employers and strengthen their economies, are they investing enough in the long-term development of the people who will ultimately determine whether those investments succeed?

Across the country, education is increasingly evaluated through the lens of workforce outcomes and economic return. Whether the discussion centers on K-12 education, workforce training, community colleges, or universities, policymakers want to know how many jobs will be created, what skills students will acquire, how employers will benefit, and whether public investments generate measurable returns. Those are appropriate questions. Employers need a skilled workforce, states need competitive economies, and taxpayers deserve accountability. Yet this emphasis on workforce outcomes raises another question. Has the definition of workforce development become too narrow?

As states like Arkansas continue to recruit manufacturers, healthcare providers, technology companies, logistics operations, and other industries, an equally important investment deserves attention: developing the talent required to sustain those employers long after they arrive. Labor market projections consistently point to growing demand for occupations requiring master's, doctoral, and professional degrees across healthcare, education, business, counseling, technology, engineering, and other knowledge-intensive fields. While discussions of workforce development often emphasize technical training and middle-skill occupations, the state's long-term economic success will also depend on individuals prepared to lead organizations, solve complex problems, drive innovation, and adapt to rapidly changing industries.

The issue is not whether workforce development matters. It unquestionably does. The larger question is whether workforce development should be defined more broadly. Preparing individuals to fill today's jobs is essential, but so is preparing future leaders, researchers, entrepreneurs, healthcare professionals, educators, and innovators who will shape tomorrow's economy. That distinction has occupied economists, educators, and community leaders for quite a while. Sustainable economic prosperity depends not only on attracting investment, but also on developing the human capital capable of transforming that investment into long-term growth.

What Happens After the Company Arrives?

Across the country, states invest billions of dollars each year in economic development. Governors announce new manufacturing facilities, local officials celebrate groundbreaking ceremonies, and economic development organizations compete to attract private investment. Communities expand industrial parks, improve transportation networks, extend utilities, and assemble incentive packages designed to encourage businesses to locate or expand. These investments matter. New employers create jobs, broaden the tax base, stimulate local spending, and strengthen regional economies. Few communities would decline an opportunity to attract a major employer. The ribbon cutting is where the real work begins.

For many communities, a new employer represents more than an economic announcement. It represents the hope that future generations can build successful careers without leaving home. Yet the long-term impact of these investments often depends on a factor that receives far less attention than the recruitment effort itself: whether local residents possess the education, skills, and experience needed to compete for the opportunities being created. That reality has become increasingly apparent as large-scale projects have expanded into rural communities across Arkansas and neighboring states. One highly publicized technology investment generated tremendous optimism throughout the region. Construction created hundreds of jobs, local businesses benefited from increased activity, and the project delivered significant tax revenue. By nearly every traditional measure, the investment was a success.

Once construction concluded, however, the long-term workforce looked very different. The permanent operation required far fewer employees than many residents had anticipated, and many of its technical, managerial, and leadership positions demanded qualifications that were not readily available within the local labor market. Those positions were filled, but many were filled by recruiting talent from outside the region and, in some cases, outside Arkansas. None of this diminished the value of the investment. The facility contributed to the regional economy and strengthened the community in meaningful ways. At the same time, it highlighted an important distinction. Attracting investment and developing talent are not synonymous. A community can successfully recruit employers while still lacking the educational and professional pipeline necessary for local residents to capture the greatest benefits those employers create. The question is not whether companies will find the talent they need. They will. The more important question is where that talent comes from.

When advanced positions are routinely filled by individuals recruited from elsewhere, communities gain investment but lose part of the opportunity. The jobs remain in Arkansas, yet many of the highest-paying and most influential roles are filled by people whose education and professional development occurred elsewhere. The economic activity stays local, but much of the long-term leadership capacity is imported. That distinction reaches far beyond a single employer or community. It invites a broader conversation about whether economic development strategies devote enough attention to developing the talent modern industries increasingly require.

The Talent Pipeline Problem

The implications extend well beyond individual positions or individual communities. States that fail to develop advanced talent risk losing more than workers. They lose future educators, healthcare professionals, entrepreneurs, engineers, researchers, and civic leaders. Many of their most ambitious graduates leave in search of opportunity elsewhere, creating a cycle that becomes increasingly difficult to reverse. Talent has become one of the defining factors in economic competitiveness. When businesses evaluate potential locations, they certainly consider taxes, infrastructure, and incentives. Increasingly, however, they ask a different set of questions. Can they hire engineers? Can they recruit managers? Will they have access to researchers, healthcare professionals, analysts, and organizational leaders? Communities that cannot answer those questions convincingly face a growing disadvantage, regardless of how attractive their incentive packages may be.

This is where the economic development conversation often falls short. States routinely invest millions of dollars in physical infrastructure. Roads, industrial parks, broadband, utilities, and transportation systems are all essential components of economic growth. These investments are visible, politically popular, and relatively easy to measure. Yet the most valuable infrastructure any state possesses is its human infrastructure. Buildings do not innovate. Roads do not solve complex problems. Industrial parks do not create new companies or improve healthcare systems. People do.

Long after the ribbon-cutting ceremony ends, it is people who develop new products, manage organizations, conduct research, launch businesses, improve public services, and help communities adapt to changing economic conditions. Physical infrastructure creates opportunity, but human infrastructure determines whether that opportunity reaches its full potential. This is not an argument against workforce training, apprenticeships, technical education, or industry certifications. Arkansas depends on electricians, welders, mechanics, automation specialists, technicians, nurses, and countless other skilled professionals. These careers remain essential to a healthy economy and deserve continued investment. Too often, workforce development has been treated as an endpoint rather than an ongoing investment in people.

Modern organizations also need leaders who can manage complex systems, interpret data, conduct research, develop strategy, navigate uncertainty, and drive innovation. As technology continues to reshape nearly every industry, the demand for these capabilities will only increase. Technical expertise remains critical, but long-term competitiveness also depends on people who can adapt, lead, and solve problems that have no established playbook. The strongest economic development strategies recognize this reality. Recruiting employers and developing talent are not separate priorities. They are complementary investments, each strengthening the long-term success of the other.

Graduate Education as Talent Development

Graduate education is often evaluated through degrees earned, salaries gained, or return on investment. Those measures matter, but they overlook its greatest contribution: developing talent. A diploma is not the outcome. It is evidence of a process through which individuals learn to think critically, evaluate evidence, solve complex problems, conduct research, communicate effectively, and adapt to change. Those capabilities are difficult to quantify, yet they are among the qualities employers increasingly seek.

That perspective matters because today's workforce is evolving faster than ever. Technologies change. Industries transform. Entire occupations emerge while others disappear. Technical skills remain essential, but they must be paired with the ability to learn continuously, navigate uncertainty, and solve problems that have no obvious solutions. Graduate education helps cultivate those abilities.

The value of an advanced degree extends well beyond subject matter expertise. Graduates develop habits of inquiry, analytical reasoning, and lifelong learning that enable them to lead organizations, improve systems, evaluate competing ideas, and make informed decisions in environments where information is often incomplete and change is constant. Viewed through this lens, graduate education is not simply workforce preparation. It is workforce resilience. It is leadership development. It is innovation capacity. The impact is visible across nearly every profession.

Like many states, Arkansas continues to face shortages of physicians, behavioral health providers, school leaders, engineers, technology professionals, and other highly skilled workers. Addressing these shortages requires more than successful recruitment campaigns. It requires sustained investment in educational pathways that prepare future professionals to serve communities across the state. Graduate education plays a central role in that effort. Advanced programs prepare healthcare providers who strengthen rural hospitals, educators who lead schools, counselors who expand access to behavioral health services, engineers who support advanced manufacturing, business leaders who guide growing organizations, and researchers whose work contributes to innovation and economic growth.

Across Arkansas, countless professionals who earned advanced degrees have chosen to build their careers close to home. They serve as principals, healthcare administrators, faculty members, nonprofit executives, entrepreneurs, engineers, counselors, and public servants. Their contributions often extend well beyond their organizations as they mentor others, strengthen civic institutions, and help shape the future of their communities. These examples illustrate an important reality. Investments in graduate education generate returns that extend far beyond the individual graduate. They strengthen organizations, expand leadership capacity, improve public services, foster innovation, and create the human infrastructure that supports long-term economic growth. From this perspective, graduate education is not separate from workforce development. It is one of its highest forms.

Future Employers Are Sitting in Graduate Classrooms Today

Workforce development discussions often focus on preparing individuals to fill existing jobs. That objective is both practical and necessary. Employers need qualified workers, and educational institutions play an essential role in preparing them. But economic development also depends on something else. Some of tomorrow's employers are sitting in graduate classrooms today. Graduate education does more than prepare individuals for leadership positions within existing organizations. Over the course of their careers, many graduates improve systems, mentor future professionals, launch new initiatives, conduct research, identify unmet needs, and develop solutions to complex challenges. Some will lead hospitals, schools, businesses, and nonprofit organizations. Others will establish companies, open healthcare practices, create consulting firms, commercialize research, or build organizations that generate entirely new economic activity.

Economic development strategies often emphasize recruiting employers from outside a state's borders. Yet many of the most significant contributors to a state's economy are already there. They are students refining new ideas, professionals expanding their expertise, and future entrepreneurs developing the knowledge and confidence to transform opportunity into enterprise. This broader perspective changes how graduate education should be evaluated. The return on investment is not measured solely by higher salaries or job placement rates. It is reflected in stronger organizations, more effective leadership, increased innovation, entrepreneurial activity, improved public services, and communities that are better equipped to adapt to economic change.

When a graduate launches a business, expands a medical practice, develops a new technology, leads a growing company, or establishes a nonprofit organization, the benefits extend well beyond that individual. New jobs are created. Services expand. Local economies grow. Communities become more resilient. Economic development is not simply about attracting employers. It is also about developing them. That distinction reinforces a larger truth. States devote substantial resources to recruiting opportunity, but often invest far less in ensuring that local residents are prepared to create, lead, and multiply that opportunity. The most successful economic development strategies recognize that both investments are essential.

The Two Communities

Imagine two communities that successfully recruit the same major employer. Both celebrate the announcement. Both receive significant investment. Both create new jobs. On paper, each appears to have achieved the same economic development success. Yet over time, their futures begin to diverge. In the first community, many of the technical, managerial, and leadership positions are filled by professionals recruited from outside the region. The company prospers, but much of the long-term opportunity flows elsewhere because the local talent pipeline is not deep enough to meet demand. In the second community, years of sustained investment in education and talent development have produced a different outcome. Local engineers, healthcare professionals, educators, managers, researchers, entrepreneurs, and organizational leaders are prepared to compete for those same opportunities. Employers still recruit nationally when necessary, but they also find a growing pool of highly qualified talent within the community itself. Students can envision advanced careers without leaving the state, and employers gain confidence that the workforce they need will continue to grow.

Both communities won the recruitment competition. Only one won the future. Only one built the capacity to sustain it. That distinction lies at the heart of modern economic development. Arkansas has made meaningful investments in attracting employers, strengthening infrastructure, and expanding economic opportunity. Those efforts should continue. But lasting prosperity depends on more than successful recruitment. It requires an equally strong commitment to developing the people who will lead organizations, strengthen communities, create new businesses, and solve the increasingly complex challenges of the future. Economic development and talent development are not competing priorities. They are mutually reinforcing investments. One creates opportunity. The other determines who is prepared to seize it.

The recent national conversation surrounding workforce development, higher education, and economic competitiveness offers an opportunity to rethink how states define economic investment. Success should not be measured solely by the number of companies recruited or jobs announced. It should also be measured by whether states are developing the talent capable of leading those organizations, creating new enterprises, advancing innovation, and strengthening communities for generations to come. The most valuable infrastructure a state can build is not always visible. It is found in classrooms, laboratories, hospitals, businesses, research centers, and communities where people develop the knowledge, judgment, and leadership needed to shape the future. Graduate education is one of the primary ways states build the human infrastructure that sustains long-term economic growth.

The states that recognize this connection will be the ones best positioned to compete in an economy where talent has become the ultimate competitive advantage. The strongest economic development strategy is not the one that attracts employers. It is the one that develops the people who create what comes next.

References

Arkansas Center for Health Improvement (ACHI). Arkansas Healthcare Workforce Reports and Analyses. Little Rock, AR. https://achi.net/arkansas-healthcare-workforce/

Arkansas Division of Workforce Services. (2025). Arkansas Labor Market and Economic Report. Little Rock, AR. https://www.discover.arkansas.gov/_docs/Publications/Economic-Report-OCI/Economic-Report.pdf

Carnevale, A. P., Gulish, A., and colleagues. (2024). After Everything: Projections of Jobs, Education, and Training Requirements Through 2031. Georgetown University Center on Education and the Workforce. https://cew.georgetown.edu/cew-reports/projections2031/

Blake, J. (2026). 3 Things to Know About Trump's Higher Education Grant Competitions. Inside Higher Ed. https://www.insidehighered.com/news/government/student-aid-policy/2026/05/28/3-things-know-about-trumps-higher-ed-grant?utm_source=Inside+Higher+Ed&utm_campaign=5bd8c86e89-WNU_COPY_02&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_1fcbc04421-5bd8c86e89-712279282&mc_cid=5bd8c86e89&mc_eid=2f6308c602

About the Author

Michael J. Bradley, Ph.D. serves as the Dean of the College of Research and Graduate Studies at Arkansas Tech University. The views expressed are his own.

If you know me, you know I'm not going to spend my evenings sitting in a hotel room watching TV. I had a few free hours each night, so I did what I usually do when I visit a new place. I started walking. Washington, DC, is one of those cities where history isn't hidden away behind museum walls. It's everywhere. Around nearly every corner is another memorial, another statue, or another building that played a role in shaping our country.

Over two evenings, I walked several miles through the National Mall and around the Tidal Basin. I saw some of America's most recognizable landmarks and stumbled across quite a few places I never expected to find.

Tuesday Evening: Walking the National Mall

After the first day of the workshop, I headed toward the National Mall.

The first thing that really stopped me in my tracks was the Washington Monument. You see pictures of it your whole life, but standing underneath it is a completely different experience. Built to honor George Washington, the monument stands 555 feet tall and is still the tallest stone obelisk in the world. One thing I learned while I was there is that construction actually stopped for more than twenty years because of funding issues and the Civil War. When work finally resumed, they had to use marble from a different quarry, so if you look closely, you can actually see where the stone changes color. I love little details like that.

From there, I made my way west toward the Lincoln Memorial, stopping whenever something caught my eye. One of those stops was the National World War I Memorial and Pershing Park. More than four million Americans served during World War I, yet it often gets overlooked compared to World War II. The memorial does a wonderful job of telling the story of ordinary people who answered the call to serve. The sculpture, A Soldier's Journey, is especially impressive and worth taking a few minutes to study.

Nearby sits the District of Columbia War Memorial. It's much smaller than many of the surrounding memorials, and I imagine a lot of people walk right past it. It honors the men and women from Washington, DC, who served during World War I, and I appreciated that it gave recognition to the local community's sacrifice. Eventually, I reached the Lincoln Memorial.

There really isn't much I can say that hasn't already been said about it. It's every bit as impressive as you'd imagine. Dedicated in 1922, it honors Abraham Lincoln and his leadership during the Civil War. Inside, Lincoln's Gettysburg Address and Second Inaugural Address are carved into the walls, reminding visitors of both the cost of preserving the Union and the hope of reconciliation. Standing on those famous steps and looking back across the Reflecting Pool toward the Washington Monument is one of those views that almost doesn't seem real because you've seen it so many times in photographs. Of course, it's also the place where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his "I Have a Dream" speech, making it one of the most significant locations in American history.

Just down the path is the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Unlike many monuments that celebrate victories or leaders, this one feels deeply personal. The polished black granite wall bears the names of more than 58,000 Americans who were killed or remain missing from the Vietnam War. Watching people quietly trace names with their hands or leave flowers and flags was incredibly moving. It reminded me that for many visitors, this isn't just history. It's family.

A short walk away is the Korean War Veterans Memorial, another place that left a lasting impression. Nineteen stainless steel soldiers move cautiously through a field of juniper, representing troops from every branch of the military. Their expressions are serious, almost haunting, and the famous inscription, "Freedom Is Not Free," seems to capture the entire purpose of the memorial in four simple words. By the time I headed back to the hotel that night, my feet were definitely feeling it. But I also knew I'd barely scratched the surface of everything there was to see.

Wednesday Evening: Around the Tidal Basin

The next evening, I headed in a completely different direction and walked around the Tidal Basin. If I had to pick one favorite place from the entire trip, it would probably be the Jefferson Memorial. Maybe it was the location overlooking the water. Maybe it was because it felt a little quieter than the other memorials. Whatever the reason, I found myself taking more photos and in awe. The memorial honors Thomas Jefferson, the principal author of the Declaration of Independence and our nation's third president. Inside is a massive bronze statue surrounded by excerpts from Jefferson's writings about liberty, education, and self-government.I sat there for a while just reading the inscriptions and taking in the view. It was one of those places that encourages you to stay a little longer.

Not far away is the George Mason Memorial. I'll admit, before this trip I didn't know as much about George Mason as I probably should have. Mason wrote the Virginia Declaration of Rights, which heavily influenced the Bill of Rights. Interestingly, he refused to sign the U.S. Constitution because it didn't include protections for individual liberties. Many of the freedoms we enjoy today can be traced back to his insistence that those rights be protected.

From there I continued to the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial. Instead of one large monument, the memorial unfolds as a series of outdoor spaces representing Roosevelt's four terms as president. Waterfalls, sculptures, and quotations tell the story of the Great Depression, the New Deal, and World War II. One of the things I appreciated most was that it didn't try to simplify history. It acknowledged both the struggles the country faced and the complicated challenges Roosevelt navigated during one of America's most difficult eras.

My final major stop of the evening was the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial. The centerpiece, known as the Stone of Hope, is carved from granite and inspired by a line from King's famous "I Have a Dream" speech. Surrounding the memorial are quotations from his speeches and writings that continue to challenge visitors decades after they were first spoken. Like the Jefferson Memorial, this was another place where people weren't rushing. Most were simply standing quietly, reading, and reflecting.

The Things I Never Planned to See

Some of my favorite moments weren't on my itinerary at all. Walking around Washington means constantly running into history when you least expect it. I wandered past the Lockkeeper's House, the oldest remaining building on the National Mall. Built in 1837, it once served the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, long before the Mall became what we know today. I caught a glimpse of the White House, although much of it was blocked off during my visit. Even so, it's hard not to pause for a moment when you're standing outside the home of every president since John Adams. I also found myself admiring the beautiful headquarters of the Organization of American States and the historic American Red Cross building.

One thing you'll probably notice from the photos is that I became a little obsessed with the statues around Washington. Every few blocks I'd find another historical figure I knew a little about, or sometimes nothing at all. More than once I found myself stopping to read the plaque, pulling out my phone to learn a little more, and walking away with a new appreciation for someone I'd never really thought about before. John Paul Jones. Commodore John Barry. General McPherson. Baron von Steuben. Tadeusz Kościuszko. Edmund Burke. The Thomas Circle Memorial. Everywhere I turned seemed to be another reminder that history isn't built by just a handful of famous names. It's shaped by thousands of people whose stories deserve to be remembered. Those unexpected discoveries may have been my favorite part of the trip.

Final Thoughts

I came to Washington for a workshop. I left with a renewed appreciation for American history. There's something different about standing where history happened. Reading Lincoln's words inside the memorial. Walking alongside the Vietnam Wall. Sitting quietly at the Jefferson Memorial as the sun begins to set. Those experiences stay with you in a way that reading a book never quite can. I'm sure there are still plenty of things I missed, which just gives me another reason to go back someday.

Until then, I'll keep doing what I love most when I visit somewhere new. Find a good pair of walking shoes, pick a direction, and see what I discover.

Thanks for coming along on another adventure. If you'd like to see more photos from this trip, along with plenty of hiking, fishing, road trips, and the occasional great meal, you can find me on Instagram @mikeisoutside

In August 2023, my friend Ray asked if I'd be interested in riding with him to Maine. He was heading there for a friend's wedding and needed a road trip buddy. After spending the previous few years working hard in a new job, I was ready for a few days away from the grind.

There wasn't much convincing involved. Ray asked. I said yes.

A few days later, he picked me up in Dardanelle, Arkansas, in a rental truck and we pointed the front end north. Over the next five days, we'd travel roughly 3,600 miles, cross multiple states, visit some incredible historic sites, explore Acadia National Park, attend a wedding for people I'd never met, and eat enough hot wings to last a lifetime.

It turned out to be one of the most enjoyable road trips I've ever taken.

Why We Took a Road Trip from Arkansas to Maine

The wedding gave us a destination, but the road trip was really about the journey.

Ray is a great travel partner because he's always up for side adventures. Historic sites, national parks, strange roadside attractions, local restaurants, or random detours, he's usually ready to check them out.

The miles passed quickly thanks to a steady mix of classic country music from the 1970s through the 1990s, comedy routines, and more true crime podcasts than I had ever listened to before.

At some point early in the trip, we created a challenge for ourselves. We decided to try hot wings in every state where we stopped. That sounded like a great idea on day one. By day four, it was becoming a serious commitment.

Still, we stuck with it.

Visiting Gettysburg National Military Park

One of our first major stops was Gettysburg. I've always enjoyed history, but standing on the battlefield at Gettysburg National Military Park was a different experience entirely. Reading about an event and standing where it happened are two very different things. What struck me most was the gravity of the place.

You quickly realize there is far more to the story than most of us learn in school. Thousands of people fought and died there during one of the most significant moments in American history, and that weight still seems to linger across the landscape. Gettysburg wasn't just interesting. It was humbling.

Exploring Minute Man National Historical Park

As we continued north, we stopped at Minute Man National Historical Park in Massachusetts. This stop was mostly Ray's idea, and I'm glad he suggested it. The site isn't enormous, but it's one of those places where history suddenly becomes real. Walking through the area where the opening events of the American Revolution unfolded gives you a deeper appreciation for the people and events that helped shape the nation. It's easy to overlook places like this when planning a trip, but it ended up being one of the highlights of the journey.

A Visit to Walden Pond in Massachusetts

Walden Pond was a stop I had wanted to make for a long time. I'd read Henry David Thoreau's work, heard stories about Walden, and always wondered what the area was actually like. The pond itself was busier than I expected. Apparently, I wasn't the only person interested in seeing it.

Even with the crowds, though, there was something peaceful about standing in a place that has inspired readers, writers, and nature lovers for generations. Visiting Walden Pond felt a little like meeting someone you've heard about for years. The experience lived up to my expectations.

Acadia National Park Was Worth Every Mile

Eventually we reached Maine. I expected Maine to be beautiful. I didn't expect to love it as much as I did. For me, Acadia National Park was the highlight of the entire trip. Everywhere we looked seemed worthy of a photograph. Rocky coastlines, forested hills, mountain views, and the Atlantic Ocean combined to create some of the most impressive scenery I've ever experienced. One of my favorite moments was visiting Cadillac Mountain.

Standing there and looking out across the landscape, it was easy to understand why Acadia National Park consistently ranks among the most visited national parks in the United States. Some destinations get overhyped. Acadia wasn't one of them. It was every bit as impressive as people had told me. Maybe even more.

Spending Time in Bar Harbor, Maine

While exploring Acadia National Park, we also spent time in Bar Harbor. There's something relaxing about a coastal town filled with boats, harbors, and ocean views. I found myself taking photo after photo of the waterfront. There wasn't a dramatic event or major attraction drawing my attention. It was simply peaceful. Sometimes that's enough. Bar Harbor turned out to be one of those places where slowing down and enjoying the view is the attraction.

A Maine Wedding, a Floatplane, and a Cold Lake

The reason for our trip was a wedding in Lincoln, Maine. I didn't know the couple before arriving, but they turned out to be wonderful people, and the wedding was a great time. One of my favorite memories happened afterward at a small after-party held at a cabin beside a lake. The cabin sat near a body of water where a floatplane regularly landed and took off. That's not something you see every day in Arkansas. The only surprise was the water temperature. Even in August, that lake was cold. Apparently Maine has a different definition of swimming weather than Arkansas does.

Buffalo Wings at the Original Anchor Bar

Eventually it was time to head home. Along the way, we completed one final mission. We stopped at Anchor Bar in Buffalo, New York, the restaurant widely recognized as the birthplace of the Buffalo wing. After eating wings across multiple states, it seemed only fitting that we visit the original. The verdict? Absolutely worth it. The wings were excellent, and the stop became one more memorable side adventure on a trip that already had plenty of them.

What This Road Trip Taught Me

When I look back at this trip, I don't think about a single destination. I think about the experience. I think about stopping at state welcome signs for photos. I think about listening to music while watching hundreds of miles of highway roll by. I think about standing on historic battlefields, exploring Walden Pond, looking out from Cadillac Mountain, and discovering just how beautiful Maine really is. Most of all, I think about spending time with a good friend. Sometimes we get so focused on work, responsibilities, and schedules that we forget how valuable a few days away can be. This trip reminded me that adventure doesn't always require months of planning. Sometimes all it takes is a friend asking if you'd like to go.

Maine surprised me.

Acadia National Park amazed me.

The wings at Anchor Bar lived up to the hype.

And if Ray calls tomorrow and asks if I want to take another road trip? The answer is still yes.

When we think about research in outdoor recreation, we often focus on people. We study visitor experiences, recreation behaviors, trail usage patterns, and management strategies. But what if we've been overlooking an important participant all along?
 
A recent study by Solana Kline introduces an intriguing concept: treating nature not simply as the setting for recreation, but as an active participant in the experience itself. The article, Participant Auto-Ethnographic Trail Journals: Representing More-Than-Humans Through Embodied Experiences of Nature-Based Recreators, explores how trail users experience and interact with the natural world while hiking, running, biking, and recreating on public lands.
 
Seeing Nature as More Than a Backdrop
Traditional recreation research often positions nature as the environment in which human activities occur. Kline challenges this perspective by asking researchers to consider "more-than-human" relationships. In simple terms, the study suggests that trees, wildlife, landscapes, weather, and ecosystems actively shape recreation experiences. Participants in the study frequently described feeling connected to, influenced by, and even in conversation with elements of the natural environment. Rather than viewing nature as a passive backdrop, participants described trails, forests, animals, and landscapes as meaningful contributors to their experiences.
 
The Power of Trail Journaling
The study used participant trail journals as a primary research tool. Participants recorded reflections through written journals, audio recordings, photographs, and follow-up interviews. What makes this approach unique is that researchers intentionally stepped back during the data collection process. Participants documented their experiences independently, allowing them to engage with nature without the presence of a researcher. This seemingly simple change produced rich descriptions of sensory experiences, emotional connections, and observations that might have been missed through traditional interviews or surveys. For professionals, this offers an important reminder: some of the most meaningful insights emerge when people are given space to reflect on their experiences in their own words.
 
Why This Matters for Outdoor Professionals
Whether you work in parks and recreation, conservation, tourism, environmental education, or public land management, the findings have practical implications.
 
1. Experiences Matter as Much as Facilities
Many recreation plans focus on infrastructure, amenities, and access. While those factors remain important, this research highlights the value of emotional and sensory experiences. Visitors often seek solitude, reflection, connection, and restoration. Designing and managing spaces that support those experiences may be just as important as maintaining physical infrastructure.
 
2. Reflection Deepens Engagement
The act of journaling encouraged participants to notice details they might otherwise overlook.
Outdoor educators, interpreters, and recreation leaders can incorporate reflection activities, journaling prompts, photography, or storytelling exercises to help participants engage more deeply with natural environments.
 
3. Nature Supports Well-Being
Many participants described trails and natural spaces as sources of comfort, renewal, perspective, and personal growth. As conversations around mental health and wellness continue to expand, outdoor recreation professionals are uniquely positioned to create opportunities for meaningful nature-based experiences.
 
4. Public Lands Create More Than Recreation Opportunities
The study reminds us that public lands are not simply places where recreation occurs. They are spaces where people build relationships with landscapes, wildlife, and ecosystems. These experiences can foster stewardship, appreciation, and long-term support for conservation efforts.
 
A Different Way to Think About Research
One of the most interesting aspects of the study is its willingness to embrace complexity. Research often seeks clear answers and measurable outcomes. This project acknowledges that some experiences are difficult to quantify. Feelings of connection, wonder, belonging, and awe may not fit neatly into a spreadsheet, but they are often at the heart of why people seek outdoor experiences in the first place.
 
For researchers and practitioners alike, that is an important lesson.
 
Final Thoughts
The next time you head out on a trail, consider bringing a notebook.
Pay attention to what you hear, see, feel, and notice. Observe how the landscape shapes your experience. Reflect on the ways nature influences your thoughts, emotions, and sense of well-being. You may discover that recreation is not simply something we do in nature. It is something we do with nature. And perhaps that distinction matters more than we realize.
 
Thank you for reading my blog.
 
Source Material: Solana Kline (2026) Participant auto-ethnographic trail journals: representing
more-than-humans through embodied experiences of nature-based recreators, World Leisure
Journal, 68:2, 402-422, DOI: 10.1080/16078055.2025.2493064
 
Check Out My Video: Bradley, M. (2026, June 24). How Nature Speaks: Trail Journaling, More-Than-Human Research, and Outdoor Recreation. YouTube. https://youtu.be/X01kiXbrGKQ 

Most of us probably don't spend much time thinking about park safety until we encounter a place that makes us uncomfortable.

Maybe it's a trail that feels isolated. Maybe the vegetation is so dense that you can't see around the next bend. Maybe the lighting is poor, maintenance has been neglected, or there simply aren't many other people around.

On the other hand, we've all experienced parks that just feel welcoming. The paths are easy to follow. Sightlines are open. The space is active but not crowded. Everything feels cared for.

So what exactly makes the difference?

A recent article published in the World Leisure Journal tackled that question by reviewing 44 studies conducted around the world between 2014 and 2024. Rather than focusing on actual crime rates, the researchers examined something equally important: how people perceive safety in park environments.

That distinction matters.

As the authors point out, perceived safety and actual safety are not always the same thing. A park can be statistically safe and still feel uncomfortable to visitors. Likewise, a park can feel safe even when risks exist. Those perceptions influence whether people visit, how long they stay, and what activities they choose to participate in.

In other words, if people don't feel safe, they often don't use the park.

One of the most interesting findings from the review is that perceptions of safety are shaped by a combination of personal factors, social factors, and physical environmental characteristics.

Some personal factors are difficult to control. Age, gender, previous experiences, familiarity with an area, and even stories people have heard from others can influence how safe they feel in a particular setting.

Social factors matter as well. The presence of other people often increases feelings of safety, especially when those individuals are viewed as non-threatening. Familiarity with a park and seeing others actively using the space can help create a sense of comfort and belonging.

But perhaps the most practical findings involve the physical design and management of parks.

Across many of the studies reviewed, several themes emerged repeatedly.

Lighting matters.

Visibility matters.

Maintenance matters.

And vegetation management matters.

One of the strongest patterns involved sightlines and visibility. Dense vegetation that blocks views often reduced perceptions of safety because people felt less able to see potential hazards or anticipate what might be ahead. Areas that provided clear views and easy navigation generally scored higher on perceived safety.

That doesn't mean people dislike natural settings. In fact, many studies found that visitors appreciate vegetation and natural features. The challenge is finding the balance between creating attractive, natural environments and maintaining visibility and accessibility.

Maintenance was another recurring theme. Parks that appeared well maintained, clean, and cared for were consistently associated with higher perceptions of safety. Graffiti, litter, vandalism, damaged facilities, and signs of neglect often had the opposite effect.

This finding probably isn't surprising. People tend to interpret maintenance as a signal that someone is paying attention to the space.

The review also highlighted the importance of lighting, particularly in parks that remain open during evening hours. Good lighting improves visibility and helps visitors feel more confident navigating the environment.

What struck me most about this research is how often perceptions of safety were linked to simple design and management decisions rather than expensive infrastructure projects.

Sometimes improving a park's safety perception may be as straightforward as trimming vegetation, improving maintenance practices, enhancing visibility, updating lighting, or encouraging greater use of the space.

As I read the article, I found myself thinking about parks, trails, and recreation areas here in Arkansas.

We are fortunate to have an incredible variety of outdoor spaces, from neighborhood parks and greenways to state parks, trail systems, and natural areas. Many of these spaces are beautiful, but they also face the same challenges identified in the research.

How do we preserve natural character while maintaining visibility?

How do we create spaces that feel welcoming to first-time visitors?

How do we balance ecological goals with visitor comfort and perceptions of safety?

These are not always easy questions, but they are important ones.

The article ultimately reinforces something many parks and recreation professionals already understand: creating successful parks is about more than building facilities. It's about creating environments where people feel comfortable spending time.

When people feel safe, they are more likely to walk, exercise, socialize, explore nature, and develop stronger connections to their communities.

And perhaps that's one of the most valuable reminders from this research.

The best parks aren't simply places people can use.

They're places people want to use.

Thank you for reading my blog post.

Want to watch my video review of the source article? https://youtu.be/PHQFhDAaQXM

Source Material: Wang Yiliu, Norhuzailin Hussain & Shureen Faris Abdul Shukor (2026). Safety perceptions related to park environments: a scoping review, World Leisure Journal, 68:2, 343-382, DOI: 10.1080/16078055.2025.2469778

What Does It Really Mean to Coexist with Wildlife?

I recently read an interesting article in Conservation Biology that got me thinking about wildlife conservation in a different way. When we talk about large carnivores, whether we're discussing wolves, black bears, mountain lions, or even alligators, the conversation often focuses on whether people support them or oppose them. Do people like them? Are they afraid of them? Should they be protected?

The authors of this study argue that those questions might not be enough. Instead, they suggest we should be asking whether people are willing to coexist with wildlife. At first glance, that might sound like the same thing. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized there's an important difference.

Coexistence isn't just tolerating an animal's presence. It involves taking actions that allow humans and wildlife to share the same landscape. That might mean changing our behavior, protecting property in different ways, supporting wildlife management efforts, or accepting a certain amount of inconvenience that comes with living alongside wild animals.

The researchers developed a framework to measure this "willingness to coexist" and found that it is shaped by three major factors. First, people think about benefits. Does the species contribute to healthy ecosystems? Does it have cultural, recreational, or economic value? Second, people think about risks. Could it threaten people, pets, livestock, property, or outdoor recreation? Third, people think about ethics. Does the species have a right to exist? Do we have a responsibility to conserve it for future generations?

What I found particularly interesting is that all three factors matter. People don't make decisions about wildlife based solely on facts, nor solely on emotions. We tend to balance perceived benefits, perceived risks, and our personal values all at the same time.

A Personal Thought

Personally, I think Arkansas is at a really interesting point in its conservation story.

For much of the last century, many of our conversations focused on protecting species that were declining or trying to restore populations that had been reduced. In many cases, those efforts have been successful. Black bears are a great example. What was once considered a conservation challenge has become a conservation success story. But success creates new questions.

As wildlife populations recover and expand, we inevitably find ourselves sharing more space with them. That means conservation is no longer just about protecting habitat or increasing population numbers. It's also about figuring out how people and wildlife can live together in ways that are sustainable for both. I think that's why this research resonated with me. It recognizes that coexistence isn't simply a biological issue. It's a human issue as well.

The future of wildlife conservation in Arkansas may not depend entirely on what happens to bears, alligators, or even mountain lions. It may depend just as much on how communities respond to their presence. Are people willing to make adjustments? Are they willing to learn new ways to reduce conflicts? Are they willing to support management approaches that balance conservation goals with legitimate concerns about safety and property? Those aren't always easy conversations, but they're important ones.

What gives me optimism is that Arkansans have a long history of valuing the outdoors. Hunting, fishing, hiking, wildlife watching, and conservation are all deeply woven into the culture of this state. Because of that, I think Arkansas is uniquely positioned to have thoughtful conversations about coexistence before conflicts become larger problems.

At the end of the day, I don't think the question is whether wildlife will continue expanding into places where people live, work, and recreate. In many cases, that's already happening. The more important question may be whether we're prepared to share those landscapes. That's a conversation worth having.

We often say we are managing our natural resources sustainably, but what if, in doing so, we are slowly losing the very things we claim to protect?

In The Trees Are Speaking, Lynda Mapes describes forests that have been clear cut and carefully replanted, landscapes that, on paper, are restored. Trees return. The forest grows back. But what existed before is not truly recovered. Even with careful replanting, what was taken cannot be fully replaced. Old growth, shaped over centuries, is gone. The depth of nutrients built into the soil, the complexity of habitats, the relationships between species, these are not things that can simply be recreated. What comes back may function, but it is not the same. And in many cases, what was lost will not be seen again within our lifetimes.

What looks like recovery is, in reality, replacement. A new forest stands where another once existed, but it carries a different structure, a different rhythm, a different capacity to support life. Time itself has been interrupted. The landscape may still be there, but something quieter and harder to measure has been diminished.

At some level, this is the result of a simple truth. Use changes the resource. Even when that use is intentional and well meaning, it alters the system over time. The more we ask of a place, whether for timber, recreation, or economic return, the more we shape it into something else. What begins as a natural system becomes, gradually, a managed one.

And yet, the way we approach these decisions rarely begins with that reality. Instead, we often start with a different question. How can this place be used? How can it contribute to tourism, to local economies, to access and experience? These are not wrong questions. They reflect real needs and real opportunities. But when they become the starting point, they quietly set the direction.

We begin to measure value in terms of output. Visitation numbers, revenue generated, experiences delivered. Over time, those measures shape our decisions. More access leads to more use. More use leads to more infrastructure, more promotion, more expectation. Each step makes sense on its own. But taken together, they move us away from the very qualities that made these places valuable to begin with. As E.F. Schumacher wrote, “the modern economy is propelled by a frenzy of greed and indulges in an orgy of envy,” a system that has difficulty recognizing limits or long term consequence.

What if we began somewhere else? What if, instead of asking how a place can be used, we first asked what it can endure, and what it needs in order to remain whole over time? Not every landscape is the same. Some places can absorb use and still function. Others cannot.

This way of thinking is not new. In Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer writes that “all flourishing is mutual,” pointing to a relationship with land grounded in reciprocity rather than extraction. Freeman Tilden, in his work on interpretation, emphasized that understanding must come before use. People cannot truly value what they do not first understand. If we begin with use, we risk shaping places before we fully understand what they are. If we begin with understanding, we are more likely to recognize their limits.

These questions are not abstract. They are playing out in real time. In northern Minnesota, debates over mining near the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness reflect a familiar tension between economic opportunity and the long term integrity of a freshwater system that cannot easily be replaced. In Alaska, decisions to open protected wildlife areas to drilling raise similar questions about what these landscapes are being asked to carry, and for how long.

But it is not only happening in places of national attention. At smaller scales, the same pattern shows up again and again. A new trail is added to improve access. Then another to spread out use. Parking areas expand. Signage improves. Promotion follows. None of these decisions are wrong on their own. Many are made with good intentions, to connect people to place, to support communities, to meet growing demand. But over time, they begin to change the character of the landscape. What was once quiet becomes busy. What once felt remote becomes accessible. And slowly, the place becomes something different than what it was.

As Douglas Tallamy writes, “conservation is a grassroots phenomenon.” The choices we make at every scale shape the systems we depend on. Whether at the level of a national wilderness or a municipal park, the question is not just how land is used, but how those uses accumulate over time.

The consequences of these decisions do not appear all at once. They unfold over time. Ecological integrity is often the first to erode, as systems are altered or pushed beyond what they can sustain. As those changes take hold, the experience of the place begins to shift. What was once quiet becomes crowded. What felt wild becomes managed. What drew people there in the first place begins to fade.

Eventually, even the economic promise begins to weaken. Places that once stood out lose what made them distinct. The draw changes. In some cases, the pattern becomes more visible, cycles of rapid growth followed by decline, where landscapes are asked to produce and then left diminished once the resource is spent. The history of extractive economies shows this clearly. In the long term, the outcome is not a balance between use and preservation. It is a gradual loss across all three. Ecological, experiential, and economic.

If the pattern is clear, then the response cannot simply be more careful use. It has to begin with a different way of thinking. Not every place should be asked to do everything. Some landscapes can sustain use and still function over time. Others hold their value precisely because they remain undisturbed.

This requires a shift from asking what a place can produce to asking what it can endure. It asks us to think in terms of time, not just in years or decades, but across generations. It asks us to recognize that use, even when well-intended, is not neutral.

Aldo Leopold described this idea directly. “A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic community. It is wrong when it tends otherwise.” That idea reframes the question. When land is treated as a commodity, the focus becomes what it can produce. When it is understood as a community, the focus shifts to what it can sustain.

From that perspective, stewardship becomes something more than balance. It becomes restraint, selectivity, and care. It means recognizing that some places may be better left largely untouched, while others can carry the weight of access, recreation, or economic activity. It means asking, before we act, whether this is the right place for that use, or whether the outcomes we seek might be achieved elsewhere, in ways that place less strain on what cannot be replaced.

Barbara Kingsolver, writing about food and place, reminds us that “eating is an agricultural act.” The same is true of how we use land. The choices we make, what we use, how we use it, and where we direct our attention, shape the systems around us. When those choices are grounded in place, limits, and long term thinking, different outcomes become possible.

This is not a call to limit experience, but to ensure that it remains possible. Because if we continue to ask every place to serve every purpose, we risk losing not only the ecological integrity of these landscapes, but the very experiences, and long term value, that led us to care about them in the first place.

I want to believe in people, and I want to believe in places. I want to believe that, given the choice, we are capable of doing the right thing.

Last week, I had the opportunity to travel to Duluth, Minnesota to present at the 2026 National Outdoor Recreation Conference hosted by the Society of Outdoor Recreation Professionals (SORP). The conference brought together outdoor recreation professionals, researchers, educators, planners, and public land managers from across North America to discuss the future of parks, recreation, tourism, conservation, and public lands.

I was honored to lead a panel discussion focused on the future of higher education and workforce preparation in outdoor recreation alongside Dr. Melissa Schnuck Weddell, Dr. Will Rice, and Kathryn Wrigley. I was also invited to participate in a second panel discussion examining the future of state parks systems across North America with Seth Taft (Wisconsin State Parks), Laura Preus (Minnesota State Parks), and Dan Roddy (Arizona State Parks). It was an incredible opportunity to represent Arkansas Tech University and the College of Research and Graduate Studies while engaging in conversations about the future of outdoor recreation, conservation, tourism, accessibility, and community well-being.

Of course, once the conference sessions wrapped up for the day, I also had the chance to explore Duluth itself... and honestly, it quickly became one of my favorite cities I have visited in a long time.

One of my favorite parts of my time in Duluth was simply taking off down the paved shoreline path from Canal Park and following the edge of Lake Superior. The crisp air coming off the lake felt incredible, and every few minutes I found myself stopping to take another photo or just stand there and take in the view. Between the rocky shoreline, the sound of the water, and the massive open views across the lake, it felt like the perfect place to spend an afternoon.

Along the way, I stopped at both the Korean War Memorial and the Vietnam War Memorial. Seeing those memorials in person added a reflective feeling to the walk. Combined with the beauty of the shoreline and the peaceful atmosphere along the lake, it became one of those experiences that sticks with you long after you leave.

Eventually, I made my way to Leif Erikson Park, where I spent some time climbing down onto the giant rocks along the lake. Honestly, that may have been my favorite part of the entire afternoon. The rocks were warm from the sun while the cool breeze coming off Lake Superior rolled across the shoreline.

I probably looked like a lizard stretched out on the rocks just soaking up the warmth.

Sitting there listening to the waves crash against the shoreline below me was incredibly relaxing. Between the sunshine, the fresh air, and the sound of the water, it was one of those moments where you just sit back and appreciate exactly where you are.

Exploring Canal Park and the Duluth Waterfront

Walking around the Canal Park area ended up being one of my favorite parts of the trip. I spent a good chunk of time following the boardwalk along Lake Superior and making my way toward the canal area, where you can get an up-close view of the lighthouses and the famous Aerial Lift Bridge.

The Aerial Lift Bridge is even more impressive in person than it is in photos. When large ships come through the canal into the harbor, the entire 900-ton roadway lifts straight up between the steel towers to allow ships to pass underneath.

What I found especially interesting is that the bridge originally opened in 1905 as a transporter bridge that used a suspended gondola to carry people and vehicles across the canal. It was later converted into the vertical lift bridge design in 1929 and 1930 and today stands as one of Duluth’s most recognizable landmarks.

I also enjoyed photographing both the Duluth Harbor North Breakwater Light and the Duluth South Breakwater Outer Light while walking the shoreline.

One interesting thing you notice near the boardwalk is an old concrete structure sitting just offshore in the lake. There are all kinds of urban legends about it, but it was actually part of a failed industrial unloading dock project started in 1919 and abandoned just a few years later in 1922. Today it simply sits there slowly being reclaimed by Lake Superior, adding even more character to the shoreline.

Overall, it was just a fantastic way to spend a few hours walking around, taking photos, and enjoying the atmosphere of Duluth.

Revisiting Vikre Distillery

While I was in Duluth, I made a point to revisit Vikre Distillery, which I had first visited a couple of years ago. Honestly, it might still be one of my favorite places in the city. I ordered one of their tasting flights and every single thing I sampled was excellent. I tried the cedar gin, strawberry rhubarb gin, Temperance River rye whiskey, and Sugarbush whiskey, and all of them were outstanding.

The cedar gin was probably my favorite. Something about the smell and flavor made me feel like a refined gentleman sitting in an old library overlooking the woods somewhere along the North Shore. It had this smooth, earthy character that perfectly matched the atmosphere of Duluth and Lake Superior. The strawberry rhubarb gin was also refreshing and surprisingly unique.

The entire distillery has a relaxed but classy atmosphere without ever feeling pretentious. It is the kind of place where you can slow down, enjoy a conversation, and appreciate the craftsmanship behind what they make.

Dinner at Fitger's Brewhouse

Another stop I really enjoyed was Fitger's Brewhouse, located inside the historic Fitger’s complex along the waterfront. As Minnesota’s oldest brewery, the place has a ton of character. I really enjoyed looking through the old photographs displayed around the building, and the entire atmosphere just felt authentic and comfortable.

I ordered the Nashville hot chicken, which was really good, but the stout was probably the highlight of the meal for me. Smooth, rich, and incredibly easy to drink. More than anything, it was just a great place to relax after a long day and somewhere I would absolutely return to if I found myself back in Duluth.

Ice Cream at Love Creamery

After wrapping up my final day in Duluth, I decided I needed a treat and stopped by Love Creamery in Canal Park. Honestly, this place was fantastic. I ordered their ice cream sampler flight, which comes with six different flavors. It was definitely a lot of ice cream for one person, but absolutely worth it.

My favorite was the blueberry crisp. That flavor was incredible. After that, I’d probably rank banana chip, chomp, and orange lovesicle as my other favorites. Everything tasted fresh and homemade, and you could tell they put real thought into creating flavors that were both unique and balanced. One thing I learned pretty quickly: the sampler flight is probably best shared with somebody unless you are fully prepared to eat an unreasonable amount of ice cream by yourself. After a long conference week, though, I was perfectly okay with that decision.

Other Things to Do Around Duluth

If you visit Duluth, here are a few other great places worth exploring:

• Enger Tower

• Glensheen Mansion

• Gooseberry Falls State Park

• Split Rock Lighthouse

• Jay Cooke State Park

Family-Friendly Places to Eat in Duluth

• OMC Smokehouse

• Canal Park Brewing Company

• Northern Waters Smokehaus

• Grandma's Saloon & Grill

• Bent Paddle Brewing Co.

What We’re Building When We Build Trails

I recently read, a study of the Trans Canada Trail that lays out, in clear terms, one of the largest outdoor recreation efforts ever undertaken. The trail now stretches more than 27,000 kilometers, connecting nearly 1,000 municipalities and over 15,000 communities across Canada. What makes it notable is not just the distance, but the intent behind it. From the beginning, it was framed as a way to bring people into closer contact with the land and with each other, to create something that could be used every day but also carry a larger meaning.

The project began in 1992 as a national legacy effort, with a goal of linking existing trails into a single system that would span the country. Over time, that vision took shape through a mix of local initiative and broader coordination. What exists now is not a single trail in the traditional sense, but a network made up of hundreds of segments. Some pass-through cities on paved paths. Others move through farmland on gravel corridors. Still others extend into remote country where the trail gives way to water routes or backcountry travel. The system supports a wide range of uses, from walking and cycling to paddling and winter recreation. It reflects the geography it moves through, and in doing so, it reflects the people who use it.

The article introduces what it calls a Nature Continuum, a framework that connects the type of environment with the type of trail and the way it is used. The idea is straightforward. Urban areas tend to support paved trails and lower intensity uses like walking. Rural areas see more active uses such as cycling. Remote landscapes support more demanding activities like paddling or long-distance travel. When those elements are aligned, the trail feels appropriate to its setting, and the impact on the surrounding environment is easier to manage.

The reality, as the article makes clear, is more complicated. A large portion of the Trans Canada Trail is classified as mixed use, meaning multiple types of users share the same space. That allows for flexibility, but it also creates tension. Different users have different expectations, and without clear guidance, those expectations can conflict. In some areas, the push to create a fully connected system led to the use of roadways and shoulders, which raised concerns about safety and diminished the quality of the experience. Maintenance has also proven uneven, particularly in areas where resources are limited. In addition, some landowners have resisted trail development due to concerns about access and property rights.

Even with these challenges, the trail has had a measurable impact. It has increased access to outdoor recreation, supported local economies, and provided a framework for connecting communities across a large and varied landscape. The article makes the point that the Trans Canada Trail is not finished. It continues to evolve, and its long-term success depends on how well these challenges are addressed.

A Similar Story Taking Shape in Arkansas

Looking at Arkansas, there are parallels that are hard to overlook. The scale is different, but the direction is familiar. Over the past several years, the state has invested heavily in outdoor recreation, and that investment is beginning to show results. Trails that were once isolated are becoming part of a broader network. The Ozark Highlands Trail and the Ouachita National Recreation Trail offer long distance experiences through some of the most rugged terrain in the region. The Arkansas River Trail provides access in and around the state’s largest population center. The Delta Heritage Trail is converting former rail lines into recreational corridors. The Monument Trails system within the state parks has drawn national attention for its design and construction.

At the same time, the economic role of outdoor recreation is becoming clearer. According to the U.S. Bureau of Economic Analysis, outdoor recreation contributes more than seven billion dollars annually to Arkansas’s economy and supports tens of thousands of jobs. National coverage has followed. The New York Times has written about Northwest Arkansas as a destination for cycling. Outside Magazine has highlighted the region’s trail systems. The Wall Street Journal has pointed to Bentonville as an example of how outdoor infrastructure can influence economic development. These are not isolated observations. They point to a broader shift in how the state is being perceived.

What is still taking shape is how these individual efforts connect. Arkansas has strong trails, but it does not yet have a fully integrated system. The Trans Canada Trail offers a useful point of reference, not as something to replicate, but as an example of what can happen when local projects are tied together through a shared vision.

One of the clearest lessons is the importance of that vision. In Canada, the idea of a connected national trail provided direction and purpose. It helped align decisions across jurisdictions and gave the public something to understand and support. Arkansas has the pieces in place, but the overall picture is less defined. A statewide approach that links trails, waterways, and communities could provide that structure. It would not replace local efforts, but it would give them a common direction.

There is also a lesson in how trails interact with communities. In Canada, the trail was designed to pass through towns and cities, creating opportunities for economic activity along the way. Arkansas is already seeing this in certain areas, but the potential extends further. Smaller communities, particularly in rural parts of the state, could benefit from being connected to a larger network. That requires planning with those communities in mind, ensuring that trails are accessible and that they support local needs as well as visitor use.

At the same time, the Canadian experience highlights areas where caution is needed. One of the more significant issues was the use of roadways to complete connections. While effective in achieving continuity, it introduced safety concerns and reduced the overall quality of the trail in those sections. Arkansas has the opportunity to avoid that outcome by focusing on purpose-built routes, even if that means moving more slowly.

Where Care Matters Most

User conflict is another area where early planning can make a difference. Mixed use trails are common, and in many cases necessary, but they require clear expectations. Without that, conflicts between different types of users become more likely. Establishing guidelines and designing trails with those differences in mind can reduce those issues before they become widespread. Maintenance is a less visible but equally important concern. Building new trails brings attention and support, but maintaining them requires consistent effort and resources. As Arkansas continues to expand its trail systems, long term planning for maintenance will be critical. That includes funding, local partnerships, and a clear understanding of responsibilities.

What stands out in comparing these two contexts is that Arkansas is still in a position to shape how its system develops. Canada’s trail grew over decades, often requiring adjustments after the fact. Arkansas has the benefit of seeing those outcomes in advance. That allows for more deliberate decisions about how trails are connected, how they are used, and how they are sustained.

A Chance to be Intentional

The Trans Canada Trail reflects a particular way of thinking about land and access. It treats trails not simply as routes, but as part of a larger system that connects people to place. Arkansas is moving in that direction, whether intentionally or not, and the work being done now will shape how that system functions for years to come. The trails themselves will continue to grow. That much is clear. What remains uncertain is whether they will grow together in a way that reflects the character of the state and the needs of its communities, or whether they will remain a set of strong but separate efforts that never quite add up to a whole.

There is still an opportunity to be deliberate about that outcome. Planning, investment, and coordination will determine whether these trails serve as isolated amenities or as part of a broader framework that supports communities, protects landscapes, and strengthens the connection between people and the places they move through. That kind of work does not happen by accident. It requires attention, patience, and a willingness to think beyond individual projects. The decisions being made now will carry forward. They will shape how people experience these landscapes, how communities’ benefit from them, and how well they are sustained over time. If there is a moment to approach this work with intention, it is now.

Source Article: Wang, S., & Wang, Y. (2022). Trans Canada Trail: A shared-use network of pathways from coast to coast to coast. Journal of Outdoor Recreation and Tourism, 39, 100517. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jort.2022.100517