Google Trekker: good or bad for the outdoors?

I’m all for more people having access to the American backcountry, provided they’re prepared for it or hire people who are.

Google Trekker could help people better understand the terrain of the country’s most storied canyon when it publicizes its trail-level view of the Bright Angel – South Kaibab loop in a few months. I also believe that introducing more people to such a stunning corner of our country will help encourage interest, support and tourism. Yes, there are benefits. It certainly can’t hurt to get a lay of the land before strapping on your pack.

Or can it?

There’s no use in counting the number of pictures and books and shows and movies that have been produced about or contain imagery from the Grand Canyon. Suffice to say, there’s plenty. Even the most technologically unsound of us can visit a library and discover enough forms of media to encourage a visit or heck, even send a check to any number of organizations that help preserve the wild nature of the Colorado River’s most photographed masterpiece.

One of my fears about making even these very popular — but nonetheless stunning — trails a product of Google is that they become instantly ubiquitous, something so easy it can be put on the Internet. This stance is reflected clearly in the words of Maureen Oltrogge, head of public affairs for Grand Canyon National Park, who spoke to Outside Magazine about it, saying, “It could give you a false sense of security. This can be an unforgiving environment.”

Google Maps is meant to make things easy. Exact directions are provided from door to door and with Street View, we even know the color of the door knob. No doubt such a form of proactive bread-crumbing is convenient for getting across unfamiliar cities or checking out the big house your sister just bought.

What automated mapping doesn’t do is detail all the arbitrary hazards along the way. The red-light runners , the texters and the faulty street lights.

But in the Grand Canyon, the potholes are a lot deeper.

I’m willing to confess that some of this tech-angst comes from a disdain for our increasing reliance on electronic navigation. Above my desk sits a 48” laminated Imus Geographics map of the United States. I love knowing where every place is in relation to other places. I want the big picture of where I want to be. I just can’t fathom having it all condensed down to a 4” screen of only what lies directly ahead of me. I want to be surprised by the backdrop and intimidated by the discovery of new places. If I’m staring at a mobile service-dependent, finger-scrollable square of a wilderness like the Grand Canyon, then well, where in the hell is the drama of letting the wilderness unfold as you go?

Let’s not forget the commercial advantages to Google’s capturing of the canyon’s trails. Since the banana yuccas and century plants and Utah junipers will be on camera, they become content around which Google can sell ads. And since the search giant’s organic search algorithms have become increasingly complex to unravel, companies just spend money on ads to bypass the confusion. Don’t think Google doesn’t know this. After all, it knows everything.

Then again, maybe GoPro and social media has already done what I think Trekker may do. Helmet-mounted cameras have made slabby, backcountry powder stashes seem as safe as a McDonald’s ball crawl (lice and flu germs notwithstanding) and Mavericks into just another tough paddle out. So maybe Google is already behind and I’m complaining about the inevitable, like wolf delisting and Nancy Pelosi revealing herself as an undead Wiccan demon.

It probably won’t be so bad, I guess, to have the trails mapped so diligently. Augmented reality could help identify rock layers and flora, and even some of the temples and buttes. That would be cool.

What do you think, is trail-level mapping of the backcountry a good thing? Or is broadband best used for Gangnam Style parodies and outdoor blogs?

Imus Maps, not surprisingly, hits the big time

Imus Geographics maps adventure

I mentioned in the previous version of hikeclimbsurfrun.com the incredible detail of my Imus Geographics Sierra Nevada map. With the release of David Imus’s new “Essential Geography of the United States of America,” it seems everyone else will soon understand the reasoning for my effusive praise of this cartographer’s work.

His most recent effort has garnered the attention of “the Internets” and also won Best in Show at the 38th Cartography and Geographic Information Society’s annual competition. His attention to detail, creativity and uncanny spatial accuracy beat out the CIA, the Census Bureau and even National Geographic.

If you love the outdoors, you need his Sierra Nevada map. Quite simply, it’s required reading.

Imus Geographics: superior map makers.

Detailed portion of Imus Geographics Sierre Nevada map

This image alone will keep you around a while.

The Sierra Nevada range is a vast, glacier-carved Shangri-La of outdoor recreation. Choosing a single place to visit amongst all that wilderness isn’t easy, especially when assigned to plan a weekend road trip from Las Vegas.

I like to think it is for trips exactly like this that Imus Geographics created its Sierra Nevada map. However, its pine needle precision and exceptionally coherent illustration suggest that these maps are probably best for framing. If John Muir needed a map, he would use this one.

Imus Geographics is a small, Eugene, OR-based company that makes maps. And man, do they make maps. The detail, quality and illustrated nuances of their work open up an area like no Rand McNally can. There is care in every topo line. For anyone who questions why I don’t carry a GPS (or even own one) I can confidently point to the work of Dave Imus, an artist/cartographer whose effort could never be replicated on a 3.5” screen.

The only drawback is that so much time and information goes in to creating an Imus map that he only has a few currently available. That doesn’t really matter, because by the time you’ve exhausted one, a new one will be ready.

I almost feel guilty allowing this thing to get a bit torn and flattened from use. Yet, the potential adventures it holds between its creases are just too great to leave compressed on a shelf. Since I bought it a few weeks ago, I have used it like many would a novel. I open it on a table and finger my way across one fantastic destination after the next, routing future weekends through the granite and Sequoia. I estimate distances and trace trails. “That’s where my tent should be. This road could get me there … ”

Maps just leave so much more open to the imagination than a satellite guided device packed with a timed, measured agenda. And what kind of adventure can you have without imagination?