The Instinct to Kill
/By Sam Anderson, produced by Out There Podcast
Released On September 29, 2022
Welcome to Out There Podcast. Our stories are written for the ear, so for those able, we recommend listening while reading along. Transcripts may contain minor errors; please check the audio before quoting.
WILLOW BELDEN: It’s officially autumn now. And for me, that means hiking. I love hiking in the fall. The crisp, cool air, the colorful leaves, that inkling that snow is coming soon — I love all of it.
And I especially love exploring new trails.
When you explore new trails, you need maps. And that’s where something called PeakVisor can come in handy.
PeakVisor is one of our sponsors. They make an app that has high-res 3D maps of mountains all over the world.
The app gives you info on everything from trailheads to mileage to elevation gain. And their maps are so detailed that you can see down to individual trees.
If you’re planning to explore new trails this fall, check out PeakVisor in the app store. You just might love it.
(Out There Theme music plays - guitar plucking chords, wistful whistling)
Hi, I’m Willow Belden, and you’re listening to Out There, the podcast that explores big questions through intimate stories outdoors.
First of all, I have some big news. It’s something I’m really excited about. And it’s something that I hope will help this podcast flourish for years to come.
But let me back up.
(Theme music ends)
When I started Out There, it was a giant leap of faith. I had recently quit my job at Wyoming Public Radio. Which was kind of a big deal for me. Working in public radio had been my dream for a long time. And the job at WPR was really good in so many ways.
But I didn’t love it enough. It wasn’t the kind of job where I got out of bed every morning excited to go to work. The joy didn’t balance out the stress.
(Music plays, melancholy guitar)
I wanted a job that would truly light me up inside.
And I sensed that in order to find that kind of work, I needed some space. I needed to leave my current work environment, and get away from everything for a while.
So I quit my job, and I went hiking.
(Music fades)
Seriously — I left WPR and thru-hiked the Colorado Trail, which is this 500-mile wilderness trail that goes from Denver to Durango.
(Music plays, upbeat)
To this day, it’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself.
I mean, let’s be clear - the trail was really hard, and a lot of the time, it was actually kind of miserable.
But the journey gave me two really important things.
One - it gave me confidence.
And two - it gave me the inspiration for Out There.
I knew I didn’t want to go back to news reporting. But I did want to keep telling stories with sound.
I love audio. I love its intimacy. I love its honesty. I love how it can sweep you up in its magic and show you new ways of seeing the world.
And I wanted to lean into that magic.
I wanted to go deep — get up close and personal. I wanted to explore how our minds work, how we find strength and healing, how we learn to flourish in a difficult world. And I wanted to use nature as a lens to answer those questions. After all, the Colorado Trail had shown me firsthand how the outdoors can help us make sense out of our lives.
(Music fades out)
So I took a deep breath, and I launched Out There.
That was seven and a half years ago.
(Music plays, piano)
Since then, the show has blossomed in so many ways. We’ve grown from a one-woman show to a team of three. We work with freelance producers all over the globe. We’ve won twelve national and regional awards, and we’ve just been short-listed for our first international award.
And most importantly, we’ve worked hard to become a space where everyone can feel welcome.
(Music fades)
Mainstream media often portrays the outdoors as kind of a playground for rich white people. You hear story after story about conquering summits, or setting speed records — proving your superiority over the natural world and the people around you.
At Out There, we have a different vision. We believe the outdoors is for everyone, regardless of where you were raised, the color of your skin or anything else about you. If you've stepped outside for any reason, you have a connection to nature. And on this podcast, we celebrate those connections and try to amplify voices that are often sidelined.
(Music plays, intimate piano)
Creating a safe space for people of all backgrounds to share their stories is by far my proudest accomplishment. And our work in this realm is just beginning. There is so much more we want to do.
But — and this is where I’m going to be really honest and vulnerable with you — for a lot of this year, I wasn’t sure we were going to be able to continue in that mission. I wasn’t sure Out There was going to survive.
For all our creative successes, the podcast was not on stable financial footing. We are an independent production, which means we don’t have a network or any kind of corporate backing. And we just weren’t bringing in enough money to support the work we were doing.
And, I should say - it wasn’t just us. It’s really hard to be an independent podcaster, and financial stability is elusive for most of us. But still, that was our reality. And so, earlier this year, I’m going to be honest, I was starting to give up hope.
(Music fades)
I was starting to think we might have to abandon our dreams and close up shop. Either that, or sell out.
And then, I discovered Hub & Spoke.
(Music plays, moving, inspirational)
It started with a conversation I was having with a colleague. He mentioned this collective of independent podcasts that he thought were sort of kindred spirits to Out There. And he offered to put me in touch with them.
I had never heard of Hub & Spoke, but I started listening to their shows, and I fell in love. Instantly and totally in love.
The podcasts in Hub & Spoke were an eclectic mix — they focused on everything from art history to technology to the ocean — but they were all driven by big ideas, and boundless curiosity. And they were all beautifully crafted. Seriously, it’s some of the best audio storytelling around.
I remember thinking, “Wow - these are my people. And I really, really want to be a part of this collective.”
(Music fades)
When I finally got to talk to some of the folks at Hub & Spoke, that feeling was reinforced. Each conversation left me energized and invigorated.
Finally, I had found a group of peers who believe in what we’re doing. They believe that introspective storytelling is inherently worthwhile. That quality independent podcasts have value. That stories told through sound can change minds and stir souls.
And they believe that together, we can thrive.
(Music plays, cheerful guitar)
I am beyond thrilled to announce that Out There has joined this beautiful community. We are now a proud member of Hub & Spoke, and I can’t wait to introduce you to the other podcasts in the collective.
I’m excited about the opportunities ahead. And for the first time in a long time, I feel genuinely hopeful about the future of Out There.
(Guitar swells, ambles, concludes)
(Bicycle bell rings twice)
VOICEOVER: Hub and Spoke, audio collective.
(Bicycle wheel spinning and bells ringing)
WILLOW: OK so we’re going to get on with today’s story in a moment. And it’s really a wonderful story, in fact it won a big national award.
But first, I want to tell you about one of our sponsors. It’s a company called Athletic Greens, and they make a blend of vitamins, minerals, probiotics, and more, which my colleague Jessica absolutely adores.
JESSICA TAYLOR: It has really changed kind of my whole world, when it comes to vitamins and health, not only for my body but for my stomach, my gut, my digestion, my mindset.
WILLOW: Athletic Greens was started because the founder was experiencing all these gut health issues. His doctors put him on a really intensive regimen of supplements, which was costing him, no joke, $100 a day.
He wanted to create something better, something that would give you the nutrition you need without breaking the bank.
Athletic Greens will cost you less than $3 a day. And with your first purchase, they’ll send you a free one-year supply of Vitamin D, and five free travel packs. Just visit athleticgreens.com/outthere to take ownership over your health and pick up the ultimate daily nutritional insurance! Again, that is athleticgreens.com/outthere.
(Music plays, ambling guitar)
This season is called Nature’s Nostalgia. Each episode, we’re sharing award-winning stories and beloved fan favorites from the early days of Out There.
Today’s story involves something I think about often at this time of year.
I live in Wyoming, and every fall, it seems like almost everyone here goes hunting. They’ll go out into the woods and spend days on end tromping around in the cold, trying to shoot deer and elk and other big game.
Now, I understand the merits of hunting. It helps keep wildlife populations sustainable. And it means your family can eat healthy meat that wasn’t factory farmed all year round.
But I myself have never felt the urge to hunt. I like to joke that if I had a choice between hunting, and being a vegetarian, I would almost certainly be a vegetarian. I somehow don’t think I have it in me to kill an animal.
So, why is that? Are some of us just not cut out to be hunters? Or is there more to the equation?
Today’s story comes from reporter Sam Anderson, who wanted to answer that very question: did he have it in him to be a hunter? And if so, what did that say about him?
This story first aired in 2017, and it won a gold medal from Public Radio News Directors, Incorporated, or PRNDI.
I’ll let Sam take it from here. And trigger warning, literally: this story does include the sound of gunshots.
(Music fades out)
SAM ANDERSON: Is it loaded, right now?
SAM’S DAD: It’s not officially loaded until you have this in because it’s gonna create the spark that’s gonna fire the charge.
(Gun cocks)
So now it’s loaded. Cause we’re goin’ in.
(Music plays, suspenseful guitar)
SAM: Ever since my dad started hunting, he’s been trying to bring me with him. I’ve never felt the desire to kill an animal. But since I was a little kid, I was fascinated with guns and knives and other tools of violence. Typical boy stuff.
Deep down, I think I always wondered what it would be like to take the life of another creature. And I was curious about this ancient ritual, this masculine tradition where you go into the woods, just you and your dad, to go hunting. And you come out, changed, somehow. Maybe more grown up.
(Guitar swells, then fades)
We don’t come from a hunting family, and though I was curious about this experience, I wasn’t so curious that I tried to seek it out. My dad started hunting right around the same time that I moved to New York City, and at that point in my life, spending a weekend in the woods with my old man was the last thing I wanted to do.
A few years went by, and I became more involved in my new life, and less involved in his. But then, something happened.
Right at the start of hunting season, my dad got a DUI, and he lost his license. My mom was pissed. Now she had to drive him to work every day. And there was no way she was going to waste a Saturday bringing him to the woods to hunt.
So he came to me, his oldest son. He asked if I would come with him.
(Car door opening and slamming shut)
And I said yes.
(Car ignition sputtering)
So we loaded up his truck and headed out to the woods.
SAM’S DAD: We’re going to, uh, Warren County, New Jersey, to go hunting. January what? Sixteen? It's 2016, warm winter day. Sunny.
SAM: That’s my dad. He’s 48 years old, and known for taking long pauses in his speech. He loves nature, and he’s inspired that love in me too. I think that’s partly why I found myself driving him into the woods that day. It sounds cliche, but I wanted to make him proud.
I wanted to share this experience, to let him teach me something new the way he did when I was younger, like how to pitch a baseball or jumpstart a car. I knew that spending a day in the woods going hunting would mean a lot to him. And it meant something to me, too.
So there I was, in the car with my dad, and a gun in the trunk. And it was becoming increasingly clear that I was supposed to be the one to shoot it.
SAM’S DAD: So what we’re gonna do is you’re gonna shoot the first shot, then you’re gonna hand me the rifle, I’m gonna reload it and if there’s a second shot to be had, I’m gonna take it.
SAM: The first shot. He wanted me to take the first shot. As soon as he said it, I started to get nervous. ‘What if I can’t do it?’ I thought. ‘What if I can’t pull the trigger?’
(Music plays, somber piano)
Will he think it’s because I’m weak, or that I don’t care about him and his new favorite sport? And what about the alternative, what if I can pull the trigger? What if I am capable of killing?
Sure, I used to think weapons were cool, but I’ve actually lived my life as a pretty peaceful person. I’ve never hurt anything. And I was going to start now? What does it say about my character that I’m willing to commit an act of violence just to please another person?
(Music concludes)
My dad came to terms with the idea of hunting a while ago, and he says there’s actually a pretty strong argument to be made in favor of killing deer.
SAM’S DAD: That’s why it’s unlimited bag on does. They want you to get as many does as possible, in this state.
SAM: Because there’s too many deer, right?
SAM’S DAD: There’s too many deer.
SAM: Now, you might not picture New Jersey as a wilderness teeming with wildlife, but we actually have a quarter million acres of rural, public land, especially along the western side bordering Pennsylvania, which is where my dad and I were headed.
And if you live out here, you know that the deer population is out of control. Drive down any highway and you’ll be sure to pass at least two or three deer carcasses on the side of the road.
This overpopulation isn’t just a hazard for drivers, it’s bad for the deer. There are more of them than the ecosystem can properly support. So the Division of Fish and Wildlife made a rule where you can shoot two deer every day for as long as the season lasts.
SAM’S DAD: There’s one guy the butcher told me who had 98 deer, himself.
SAM: In one season?
SAM’S DAD: In one season. What sounds absurd. What do you do with all that meat? I’m sure he’s not doing anything with it.
SAM: Hunters are definitely taking advantage of this rule. In Colorado, hunters killed about 34,000 deer last year. In New Jersey, a state that’s 10 times smaller, they killed over 52,000.
So yeah, we have a deer problem. And from that point of view, hunting makes sense. It serves a logical purpose, and knowing this made me feel better about the whole situation.
(Music plays, ambient, suspenseful)
But even though I could rationalize the logical side of it, there was still the moral side, the ethical side. I imagined a young doe with big brown eyes frolicking through the forest, with a fawn following behind her. And lurking in the bushes was me, the hunter. The enemy of everything cute and furry. When I thought of myself as the hunter, pointing a gun at that innocent creature, I felt cruel and barbaric. I didn’t want to be that person.
(Music fades)
(Sound of car driving on gravel road)
We parked the truck on a gravelly road in a rural town called Allamuchy, and hiked into the woods.
(Sound of rustling leaves and branches)
Eventually we came to a spot on a hillside overlooking a small valley. My dad said every morning the herd of deer come in from the deep woods towards the houses to look for food, and each night they return along a similar path. He was confident that the herd would pass through this valley sometime today.
Our spot wasn’t concealed at all, which I found surprising. As it turns out, if you’re completely silent and still, the deer will look straight at you without noticing a thing. But they do have an amazing sense of smell. Luckily my dad was prepared.
(Sound of pump spraying from a spray bottle)
SAM: So what are you doing here?
(Sound of more spraying)
SAM’S DAD: Spraying fox piss on this wick.
SAM: Aw, smells like -
SAM’S DAD: What’s it smell like?
SAM: Smells like shit.
(Both, Sniffing)
SAM’S DAD: It’s not that bad.
SAM: It’s pretty bad.
SAM’S DAD: I think it’s pretty cool. You get used to it I guess. So that’s a scent that’s gonna be around us for the moment, intended to cover our stinky scent. Your perfumes, deodorants. Shampoos.
SAM: With our scents camouflaged, we rolled out a blanket, sat down, and loaded the gun. We were using a muzzle loading rifle, basically an updated version of the muskets used in the revolutionary war, meaning you only get one shot.
SAM’S DAD: You gotta be good. Little more challenging, not so easy. If you’re gonna take a deer’s life, you gotta put some effort into it. Make it more work. I don’t know, I just justify it to myself that way.
So they’re gonna come in somewhere through here, and they’re gonna make their way in here eventually, but the risk is, you gotta be able to get into a shooting position, and get a clean shot without them seeing you. If in the process they see you and you spook them enough that they'll run off. You wanna be able to squeeze your shot off when you know you have a good one, as soon as possible, but you don’t wanna rush it. If you know what I mean.
SAM: Yeah.
He explained that you aim for the kill zone, the lower part of the chest that contains the heart and lungs. If I miss, If I hit the gut or the hip or the shoulder, the animal will suffer a long and painful death.
My dad told me it’s my responsibility to prevent this. One time, he shot a deer in the lung, but it wasn’t a kill shot. The deer used its other lung to run deeper into the woods. My dad followed the trail of blood for an hour before he finally found the animal, and he had to gut it in the dark. I could tell that he felt bad about this.
SAM’S DAD: But it is exciting, when you see a deer for the first time, for that day, it’s exciting because then you know, you’re gonna have a shot.
(Gun cocking)
The gun is yours.
SAM: We sat in silence and let the woods quiet down around us.
(Sound of geese calling)
I always thought of hunting as this very intense, action packed sport, but it turns out that 90% of your day is spent sitting in one place, being totally silent. And during that time, your mind begins to wander.
(Music plays, ambient, low)
I started thinking about my dad, and how he felt the need to justify his actions. How he brought up the overpopulation of deer, or the idea that using a simpler gun made it more fair to the animal. He, too, felt bad about what he was doing.
It occurred to me that maybe most hunters have experienced the same moral dilemma. Maybe they hesitate, or even agonize over the decision to pull the trigger. But eventually, they do it. That’s what makes them hunters. And I wondered: am I one of them?
The question filled my stomach with tension. We continued to wait.
(Sound of wind building)
As the minutes went by, the air around us grew colder, the sky grew darker. I wrapped a blanket around my legs for warmth, but my toes were numb. We hadn’t moved our bodies in nearly three hours. And as the sun began to set behind the hills, I felt a sense of relief.
I knew that once it got dark, it was time to go home, and I wouldn't be expected to kill a deer after all.
(Music fades)
But then, in the distance, I saw something move.
It was a deer. Then another. The whole herd ambled into view, five or six of them in total. They were slowly creeping towards us. I was going to have a shot.
They were inching closer to our hiding spot, sniffing the ground for food and raising their heads every few seconds, looking for danger.
They came closer and closer. And then, the biggest doe lifted her head and looked directly at me. Her eyes were big and brown and alert, and I couldn’t shake the sense that she was aware of my presence.
Without thinking, my body moved into the shooting position.
(Sound of ambient woodland, wind, owl hooting)
Her ears pricked up, as if she heard me pulling back the hammer of the gun. And in that moment, all of my human emotions disappeared. All of the fear, all of the guilt, all of the contradicting feelings that had paralyzed me with anxiety, were gone. And in their place, was raw sensory perception. It was like I could see and hear for miles. I had disappeared into a new reality where mind and body were one, and all my senses were concentrated on the doe. I was completely focused.
Peering through the scope, I watched the crosshairs float across her soft golden fur.
I took a deep breath.
SAM’S DAD: (Whispering) That one.
(Sound of gunshot, echoing)
Just watch em’.
SAM: The clearing filled with smoke and deer sprinted away in all directions. I expected the doe to drop dead where she was standing, but when the smoke cleared, there was nothing there.
(Sound of footsteps on crunchy leaves)
We scrambled down the hillside. We approached the spot where the deer should have been.
SAM’S DAD: See anything?
SAM: There was nothing. The clearing was empty.
SAM’S DAD: We just gotta’ keep looking around in this area. Cause of blood. If we don’t ever find it then you missed.
SAM: We scanned the leaves for drops of blood. Even if I hit the doe, it could have kept running, so we continued to search.
SAM: (Clears throat) What? (Distant voice) You you found the trail? Did you find it?
(Incoherent speech)
No I didn’t see any blood. Where is it?
SAM’S DAD: Right there.
SAM: Oh shit.
There was the doe, sprawled out on her side, her legs pointing out stiffly. Her tongue was hanging out of her blood covered mouth. There was no question: this animal was dead.
I knelt down next to the doe and put my hand on her belly.
That’s weird, that’s really weird.
SAM’S DAD: It’s warm still, right?
SAM: Yeah, it’s really warm.
SAM’S DAD: Feel the body.
SAM: Big ears, and eyelashes too, just like the cartoons. And their feet.
SAM’S DAD: Aren’t they cool, the feet?
SAM:Their hooves are soft, they have pads on the bottom.
SAM’S DAD: Their hooves are like soft flexible toes, they’re not like a hoof like a horse. Beautiful beast.
SAM: Truly.
SAM’S DAD: But that’s a good shot. He didn’t travel very far.
(Awkward laughter)
Good job though, you got him. That means we’re gonna go dump this one off at the butcher, and pick up last weeks, bring it home. And uh, we’re a success. We got three for the season so far. Congratulations. What do you think?
SAM: Well, I’m not so sure right now. (chuckles) I’m not quite so sure what I think about this.
(Music plays, piano)
In that moment, kneeling over the body of the lifeless doe, I felt different. Something had changed. Moments ago, I was watching this creature, and it was watching me. There were two of us, two creatures in the woods, coexisting. And then, I pulled the trigger.
(Music cuts abruptly, gunshot)
And suddenly, one less life in the world.
(Music continues)
And yet, Touching the body that I consciously destroyed, I didn’t feel sad. I felt a feeling of power.
It wasn’t a good feeling. But it wasn’t exactly bad either. It was a sensation of total control over my environment. I felt like an athlete after winning a race, when that natural high fills your body with warmth and confidence and the feeling that nothing is beyond your reach.
(Music fades)
By that time, the sun had gone down, and we still had to gut the animal. We put on our headlamps. That’s when I realized the ordeal was far from over.
SAM’S DAD: There’s your shot, right there. So you were a little high, from the looks of it, but we’ll know for sure once we get inside and see the organs.
SAM: I don’t think I wanna get inside and see the organs.
SAM’S DAD:This is what you gotta do though. You just did the fun part. Now the work starts.
SAM: He pulled out two knives, a small folding one and a big hunting knife.
SAM’S DAD: So the first thing you do is cut a hole around its anus. And then when you gut it, you’re pulling everything out, so you’re gonna pull that right out, from the front. So this is difficult, that’s the hardest part, really.
(Sound of cutting flesh)
SAM: Awww that’s fucking disgusting.
SAM’S DAD: Yeah, it’s gonna be.
SAM: That’s really horrible.
SAM’S DAD: And when you get down to the red, that’s the muscle.
SAM: The skin is really just like, it just peels off like a layer. Just like a… the muscle looks just like you think a muscle would look.
SAM’S DAD: Oh yeah, just like a human.
SAM: Using the smaller knife, my dad made one long incision along the belly of the animal, exposing its organs.
SAM’S DAD: Alright so take a look. Trachea. It’s like a corrugated tube. See it? So I’m gonna cut this, this is the artery, or vein. This is a blood vessel. When I cut this, blood’s gonna spurt out. You cut that, the trachea, and I guess the esophagus is right with it. And you just pull it all out, and just kind of rip it from the back.
SAM: And everything comes with it?
SAM’S DAD: Yeah until you get down here, then you gotta mess with the ass again. But this is going smooth. So let me cut this. Just cut right through it. That was some food he just ate.
SAM: Oh wow look at that.
SAM’S DAD: And then you stick your finger in there.
SAM: Ugh, Jesus fucking Christ.
(Nervous laughter)
SAM’S DAD: Yeah, this is where you made a mess of the thing with your shot.
SAM: My dad tipped the deer on its side, and all of the guts just kind of just flopped out onto the ground.
SAM’S DAD: Flip her over, make sure we got everything.
SAM: And that’s when it really hit me. Seeing the insides of this creature in a pile on the forest floor, with steam and the putrid smell of rotting meat rising into the air was truly revolting. I already knew that I was responsible for the fate of this doe, but I realized that pulling the trigger is the easy part.
Hunters have a euphemism for the gutting process, they call it field dressing. But what it really is, is just stabbing and cutting a warm body with a knife. The reality is intimate and brutal and totally animalistic. There’s no other way to describe it.
And yet I couldn’t look away.
SAM’S DAD: It’s dirty work, but you do it as quick as possible. And be done with it.
SAM: But what do we do with all these organs?
SAM’S DAD: That’s the best part. This here...You come back tomorrow, completely gone. No signs of it. All this blood’s gonna be licked up and eaten.
SAM: By who?
SAM’S DAD: By the woods.
SAM: By “the woods,” he mostly means coyotes and turkey vultures and black bears.
SAM’S DAD: Alright let’s take a look at what you did.
SAM: The final step was to open up the chest cavity, and remove the heart and lungs.
SAM’S DAD: So this is all torn up lungs, you tore through here and this is the heart.
SAM: What should we do with the heart? Should we eat it?
SAM’S DAD: Nah, I don’t usually eat the heart.
SAM: I was kidding, I was not gonna eat that heart.
SAM’S DAD: I do tend to like to hold it and see it and feel it. As a matter of ritual I guess.
SAM: My dad held the heart in his hand. It was big, about the size of a grapefruit. He gestured for me to take it into my hand, but I couldn’t. I accepted the fact that I was responsible for killing this doe, but I wasn’t ready to embrace it as a victory, like he was. It was just too much.
My dad put down the heart, and we tied a rope around the doe’s legs and started dragging the carcass back toward the road.
SAM’S DAD: That’s it. Now it’s a matter of getting it out of the woods and into the truck.
(Music plays, hopeful)
When we dropped off the doe at the butcher, my dad proudly told the man that this was my first kill. He even sent a picture to the rest of the family. I had set out to make him proud, and I achieved that goal.
So what about me? I had gone into this thinking I might secretly be disgusted with myself, if I actually killed an animal. But as it turns out, I was pretty proud of myself too. Successfully shooting a deer made me feel strong, and powerful, and self reliant, in a way that I had never felt before.
It’s been about a year since I had that experience, and looking back now, I realize that hunting does change your perspective. It forces you to realize just how difficult it was for our ancestors to obtain food for their families. It made me appreciate both the physical skill and the emotional intensity of the sport. And it helped me to accept the fact that hunting is not just a hobby. For many people in the world, it’s a way of life.
But those realizations are all kind of academic. On a more personal level, I’ve realized that hunting does not actually change who you are. I’m not a different person, just because I took the life of another animal. When it came down to it, pulling the trigger wasn’t that hard. In fact, it was almost innate.
So maybe I was always capable of violence. I just hadn’t acted on it until now. Maybe we’re ALL capable of violence, even the most peace-loving people among us.
(Music swells)
WILLOW: That was Sam Anderson. If you enjoyed this story, you might like the project that he’s currently working on. It’s a brand new series tracing the journey of a friend from his hometown, who traveled to California to work on a pot farm, and became involved in a brutal murder. The show is coming out on November 7th as Crooked City Season 2: The Emerald Triangle.
(Music fades)
Coming up next time on Out There, we’re going to have a story about a mountain biker and a whitewater rafter.
And you guessed it - they fall in love. But, they realize that they don’t actually enjoy doing the same things.
DEWEY GALLEGOS: When I saw what Jessica did, like when she showed me a video of what rafting was, I just remember thinking she was insane. Like, completely and utterly insane.
WILLOW: What happens when the person you love doesn’t love what you do? Tune in on Oct. 20 for that story.
(Music plays, ambling guitar)
I want to give a big thank you to Julie Busch, Eric Biederman, Phil Timm, Doug Frick, Tara Joslin, and Deb and Vince Garcia.
These folks are all supporting Out There with financial contributions. And those contributions enable us to produce this podcast.
If you’d like to get in on the fun, you, too, can support Out There. Just go to patreon.com/outtherpodcast or click the link in the episode description.
(Music fades)
There’s one other supporter I’d like to thank today. This is someone who meant the world to me many years ago, and who will always have a special place in my heart, even though he’s no longer with us.
That person is Mike Ludders.
Mike and I met in college. We were friends first. We worked on the school newspaper together. We did Model UN.
My sophomore year, we started dating, and for a long time, he was ‘The One.’
He was big and rambunctious and extraordinarily articulate. And we constantly stayed up way too late having deep philosophical discussions over many bottles of wine.
Mike brought out the best in me. And most importantly, he believed in me.
Our romance ultimately ended. But Mike’s faith in me continued.
He was one of the earliest supporters of Out There, and that support was unwavering.
After his death last year, his family decided to continue supporting Out There. They told me it’s what he would have wanted.
I’m not sure what to say here. There aren’t any words that seem quite adequate. So I guess I’ll just say, “Thank you, Mike.”
And thank you to Mike’s family.
I’m utterly humbled by your kindness.
(Out There Theme music plays - guitar plucking chords, wistful whistling)
I’d like to thank all the wonderful folks at Hub & Spoke, who have welcomed us into their collective. Thank you to John Barth, for introducing me to Hub & Spoke, and for believing in Out There. Thank you to my colleagues Sheeba and Jessica, for helping me navigate this transition. And finally, thank you to all of you, our listeners. We make this podcast for you and because of you, and I’m so grateful that you exist.
Today’s story was written and produced by Sam Anderson. Story editing by me, Willow Belden. Out There’s advertising manager is Jessica Taylor. Our audience growth director is Sheeba Joseph. Our ambassadors are Tiffany Duong, Ashley White, and Stacia Bennet. And our theme music was written by Jared Arnold.
Have a beautiful day, and we’ll see you in three weeks.
(Theme music concludes)
Support for Out There comes from PeakVisor. PeakVisor is an app that helps you make the most of your adventures in the mountains.
You can use their 3D maps to plan out trips. You can sign up for one of their peak-bagging challenges to keep you motivated. You can keep track of your accomplishments with their logbook. And when you’re out somewhere and want to know what you’re looking at, you can use their app to find out the names of all the mountains you’re seeing.
If you’d like your own personal mountain guide, check out PeakVisor in the app store. You just might love it.
