The Goodland Journal: Volume Two

The Goodland 

V OLUME T WO - JULY 2021 

Volume Two 1

Letter From Basecamp 

Volume Two Contributors: 

G.P. Scheppler Simon Bell 

@gscheppler 

@Simon_Bell 

Santino Martirano Alben Osaki 

santinomartiarno.com albenosaki.com 

Evan Ruderman 

evanjruderman.com 

About Us: 

The Goodland was founded as a medium 

to share untold stories and creations from 

athletes, photographers, writers, and artists 

who all take inspiration from the beauty of 

the outdoors. 

Our goal is to have our reader find the 

stories, music, and visual art we feature to 

be reflective, inspiring, and timeless. 

The Goodland Basecamp: 

Oliver Ambros Mitch Bender 

Art Director 

Editor & Illustrator 

Micah Shanks Alben Osaki 

Editor 

Editor & Marketing 

Evan Ruderman 

Editor-at-large 

Contact Us: 

The Goodland Journal 

basecamp@tothegoodland.com 

@tothegoodland 

Covers: 

Front Photo: Simon Bell 

Back Photo: G.P. Scheppler 

It’s undeniable, the outdoors is a special place; seemingly as much 

a human playground of serenity, expedition, and gathering as it is a 

realm of diverse life, unpredictable threats, and humbling vistas. Yet, as 

the whispers about this special place have turned to shouts in the form 

of social media geotagging, 3 hour lines into The Valley, and brands 

jockeying to sell “essential” gear, it is easy to forget the roots of it all. 

Like most, we appreciate the death-defying pursuits and celebrity 

athlete stories, but can find them unrelatable and frequently recycled 

by big media companies. Instead, we prefer to find our inspiration and 

creative roots from the voices of those often overlooked in the outdoor 

landscape: the average, dedicated outdoor lover. They come from all 

types of backgrounds, from the local at your nearby crag or lineup, to a 

quiet coworker sneaking out to Cascade peaks each weekend. 

To them, it is never about the flashy gear, carving like Seal Tooth, or 

the delusional belief that we all weren’t beginners at some point. Rather, 

it is the unadulterated and wholesome pursuit of getting out there no 

matter the circumstances, simply for the sake of passion, challenge, 

mindfulness, and fun. 

In the following pages, you’ll find a collection of stories that showcase 

this mentality and amplify these often unheard voices. Though tales 

of intrigue, creativity, danger, and awe, these stories likewise remain 

relatable and incredibly inspirational to all. 

We believe Santino Martirano sums it up best in his piece, “An Ode to 

Hobbyists”, found on page 20: “I am here today to celebrate hobbyists, 

those who thrive between 5pm and 9am and find the sweet spot that we 

call balance.” 

We’re here to celebrate with them too. 

Keep trekking, 

Basecamp 

© 2021 The Goodland. All rights reserved. 

Nothing in whole or in part from this volume may be reproduced without written permission from 

2 The Goodland Journal Volume Two 3 

The Goodland or the contributors found within this volume.

The Stories Inside 

08 Goodlist Volume Two 42 Sometimes I Wonder 

The musical accompaniment to 

best experience the journal. 

By: The Goodland 

A contemplation of the value of 

modern photography. 

By: Evan Ruderman 

10 

Just a Kid From Kaua’i 

A climber’s journey from the 

volcanoes of the Pacific to the 

granite towers of Tuolumne. 

By: Alben Osaki 

54 Stoke Seaker 

One man’s journey to the creative life. 

By: G.P. Scheppler 

20 An Ode to Hobbyists 

I am here today to celebrate those 

who thrive from 5pm-9am. 

By: Santino Martirano 

30 Progression, Succession, 

and Some Skiing 

Searching for lines and perspective 

in the High Sierra. 

By: Simon Bell 

4 The Goodland Journal Volume Two 5

The Goodlist: 

Music as Inspiration 

Volume 

The Goodland has always paused to 

make room for music in our adventures 

and in our stories. Just as nature is a gift, 

music also gives to us without reciprocity 

or expectation. 

Carrying on our tradition, we hope that 

The Goodlist: Volume Two sets the 

mood as an inspirational soundtrack to 

accompany the stories found within these 

pages. Enjoy! 

Scan or click our Spotify code to listen to 

The Goodlist: Volume Two while you read. 

Two 

6 The 6 The Goodland Journal Journal Volume Volume Two Two 7 7

Just a Kid 

From Kaua'i 

By: Alben Osaki 

A climber’s journey from the volcanoes of the 

Pacific to the granite towers of Tuolumne. 


I 

grew up on a tiny island called 

Kaua’i, in the middle of the Pacific 

ocean. Rock climbing wasn’t a thing 

for me growing up. It wasn’t until years 

and years later, in my late twenties, did 

I climb my first route. A forty foot route 

on top rope, using a static rope, at a 

crag in Makapu’u, Hawai’i. It was pretty 

sketchy. 

Little did I know that a few years 

later I’d be topping out on a seven 

hundred foot route in Yosemite. 

I blinked wearily as we pulled into 

the trailhead for Cathedral Peak, in 

Yosemite National Park’s Tuolumne 

Meadows. It was just after 6AM, 

and about twenty seven degrees 

Fahrenheit. The air was crisp, even 

sharp, as I inhaled. Ahead of us was 

what the guidebook said was an hour 

and a half approach. Despite having 

been awake since 3:30AM, all I could 

think was, man, I really love this. 

I always wanted to climb something 

like Cathedral. It has this air of wildness 

to it. Sure, Cathedral Peak isn’t that 

wild. Since John Muir did the first 

ascent back in 1869, people regularly 

climb it in a day and can be back in a 

hotel room by the evening. But it was 

wild to me. As primarily a bolt-clipping 

sport climber, more used to 15 minute 

approaches to crags, rather than a 

miles long approach to the base of a 

mountain, this definitely fell under my 

“wild” column. 

It was interesting starting my 

climbing “career” in a place like 

Hawai’i. It’s not a huge sport there, 

but it’s definitely growing. I remember 

basically learning how to climb by 

asking the guys at the only climbing 

gear store on the island for some tips. 

Add a dash of Youtube and a sprinkle 

of asking randos at the crag some 

questions, and you have the recipe for 

the foundation of my climbing. Not 

what I would recommend, by the way, 

but that was the reality of the time. I 

didn’t learn to climb in a gym; my first 

three or four months of climbing was 

all outdoors. 

It’s not that there wasn’t a gym on 

the island. In fact, there were two 

at the time. The one I went to was 

Volcanic Rock Gym on the east side of 

the island. My friend Sean and I would 

make our daily pilgrimage to pull on 

some plastic in this tiny gym filled with 

chalk dust and good people. 

As we approached the base of 

Cathedral Peak, I stared up at the 

imposing wall of granite and I could 

start to feel the butterflies flutter in my 

stomach. This would be the largest 

wall I’ve ever climbed, by a country 

mile. One of my climbing partners, 

Bodin, led the first few pitches, before 

he graciously let me lead the rest of 

the way. “This was your idea,” he said 

to me, “You should lead.” 

Despite some choss, the climbing 

was pretty easy and I never felt like I 

was ever in any danger. 


It was like nowhere else in the world I 

had ever been, and it was a climb unlike 

any other I had ever done. 


Vertical Roots: Climbing at the crag in Mokulē'ia, Hawai'i 

14 The Goodland Journal Volume Two 15 

Yosemite: Belay station on the Southeast Buttress; Bodie and I shortly after beginning.

There were always good ledges to build anchors on. 

Everything felt quite comfortable, which I suppose I should 

expect for such an easily graded (5.6) route. Regardless, to this 

day it was one of my most satisfying climbing experiences in my 

life. 

As we kept getting higher and higher, I couldn’t help but look 

back behind and beneath us. Photos don’t do this landscape 

justice. Alpine lakes and granite towers abound. It was like 

nowhere else in the world I had ever been. It was like being on 

another planet. 

As I topped out and tagged the summit block, I gazed into 

the wilderness. The sun was lying low on the horizon and the 

sky was as clear as can be. I couldn’t have asked for more 

perfect conditions. I hate to utilize a cliché, but I can’t think of 

any other word to describe it but “epic”. 

I think back on my climbing “origin story” often. We didn’t 

have fancy climbing gyms or bougie outdoor stores with the 

newest and shiniest gear in Hawai’i. Volcanic Rock Gym was 

essentially a very large garage with bouldering walls. Climb 

Aloha, the only place that I knew of on the island to buy gear, 

was a small, unassuming store tucked in the corner of a busy 

street. 

I never would have dreamt that my path would lead me, just 

a kid from a tiny island called Kaua’i in the middle of the Pacific, 

to the top of Cathedral Peak in Yosemite. 

But there I was. 


An Ode to 

Hobbyists 

I am here today to celebrate hobbyists, 

those who thrive between 5pm and 9am and 

find the sweet spot that we call balance. 

By: Santino Martirano 


Through life 

we dabble... 

We try new things, and we test the waters by sticking a 

toe in. But every so often something special happens and 

we can’t help but to dive deep. 

This my friends, is a hobby and more poetically known 

as a passion. Whether it is dirt biking, ice climbing 

or writing that makes us tick, we tend to look up to 

professionals who inspire us. We use the same gear, 

techniques, and even help build cultural trends from the 

nonchalant “dudeee” to the way we act and dress. 


I am here today to 

celebrate hobbyists, those 

who thrive between 5pm 

and 9am and find the sweet 

spot that we call balance. 

Balance (to me) is spending 

time doing what you love and 

letting that magical feeling 

spill into the rest of your life. 

From work to play, everything 

seems easier when we spend 

a few hours a week expressing 

ourselves. 

The professionals keep us 

going but the people that 

truly inspire me are the ones 

working from 9-5 every day 

that still make the time to 

chase their hobbies. 

You see, we do not have to 

trek up the tallest peak for it 

to matter. We do not need to 

write a book to enjoy writing, 

and we certainly do not have 

to climb without ropes to 

make something epic. 


The Send Off: Allen Stoltzfus making some quick adjustments before heading out. 

The Neighborhood: Winter Park, CO: where balance may come easy. 


Through the day to day, hobbies 

allow the world to disconnect 

from pressure, work, stress, 

and anxiety. They allow us to 

focus on the present, enjoy the 

moment, and leave the worry 

behind. 

And, if you are lucky enough 

to find yourself slipping into that 

flow state, recognize it, capture 

it, and 

Run with it. 

Mondays: Allen jumping 

on a pitch of ice on a 

Monday afternoon after 

26 The Goodland Journal Volume a day in Two the office. 27

Progression, 

Succession, 

and Some 

Skiing 

By: 

Simon Bell 

Searching for lines and 

perspective in the High Sierrra. 


If you asked the greatest 

thinkers, doers, and 

achievers what they have for 

inspiration, I bet they’d all say 

the same thing at some point: 

a person, place or thing that 

has motivated them along 

their journey. It seems critical 

to the success of a person to 

have mentors and inspirations. 

Someone that’s better at 

something, a person who 

has mastered their craft, or a 

place that sparks imagination 

is often the reason for 

attraction to and progress 

toward something. 

As a twenty-something, 

I can respectfully say that 

I’ve come a long way. But, 

being a young man, newly 

licensed dentist, and outdoor 

enthusiast, it seems the room 

for improvement in most 

aspects of my life is literally 

sky high. It can often be 

overwhelming to find your 

personal rhythm and authentic 

style in life these days with all 

of the influence we have. How 

do we find our way amongst 

millions of ways to do things? 

Let’s apply the concept to 

sliding on snow. There are 

many ways to ski: in bounds 

vs. out of bounds? Skiing solo 

to improve vs. skiing with your 

Modes of travel: The many wheels and vessels that make the backcountry accessible. 

Two Faces of a Journey: 

The final push versus 

R&R after a big day 

trekking in the Sierra. 


uds to drink beer? Skimo, freeski... 

freemo? At some point you latch on to 

something. 

For my ski world, it was the 

mountains and a small group of dudes 

who cared about being outside, 

pushing physical limits, finding good 

snow, and staying super safe in the 

backcountry. Being relatively new 

to the sport, it took a while to catch 

up with the knowledge, fitness, and 

awareness. But my backcountry 

partners were vital in igniting the fire 

while simultaneously creating a vision 

of where I wanted to end up. And 

the mountains, well, they spoke for 

themselves. 

This spring we were on the East 

Side. The Sierra are California’s pride 

and joy of spring skiing. Being in 

those zones is always a whirlwind of 

sentiments but this time specifically I 

was overwhelmed with the joy of the 

perspective of where I came from both 

literally and figuratively. And I was 

doing it with friends. Friends who I’ve 

learned from and who have inspired 

me to push toward a goal. 

Simon Says: Nice 

place for a walk! 


Scenes from above: Heads down, counting steps, pushing mentally and phsycailly. 


“It seems 

critical to the 

success of a 

person to have 

mentors and 

inspirations.” 

- S.B. 


Despite all attitudes toward skinning 

up icy hardpack or the boot pack up 

exposed couloirs or the long approach, 

I’ve got to say the feeling of euphoria 

after ripping skins and skiing is far out. 

So it seems that progress requires a 

vision. That vision is usually created by 

a person, friend, father, grandfather, 

personal hero, who has come before 

you and made an impact. Keep 

your eyes open! Then the figurative 

trigger is pulled and initiates the rest: 

thinking, planning, putting in the 

hard work, asking for advice, taking 

the class, finding a way to make the 

vision a reality. The mountain top is the 

pinnacle – the realization of the dream 

come true. Then the fun begins as you 

take your turn to feel what it means to 

accomplish and reap the reward for 

taking initiative. But I promise you, on 

that mountain top as you look deeper 

into the mountain range, you’ll see 

someone or something else that will 

energize you again. Therein lies the 

addictive property of progression and 

success. Reach one blissful peak to 

envy another and so on. So again: on 

your quest, whatever or wherever it 

may be, don’t forget to ENJOY IT! 

Reflection: (Left to Right) All 

natural ice bath in spring runoff. 

Always good perspective to 

38 The Goodland Journal see how Volume far you’ve Two come. 39

SOMETIMES I WONDER BY: EVAN RUDERMAN 


Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes 

I wonder about the point of it 

all, about the value in spending 

so much time and effort shooting 

photos. For the past two years, this 

is what I have spent the majority 

of my life doing. Shooting photos, 

planning photo shoots, prepping 

camera gear for said shoots, editing 

photos, sending photos to brands and 

publications, thinking about what the 

next shoot should be and pitching 

ideas to brands. When I’m not doing 

any of these, I’m likely daydreaming 

about one of them. But every once in a 

while, I snap out of it, and ask myself, 

what’s the point of all this anyways? 

I can’t help but think about all the 

other people working to do the same 

thing, to shoot photos revolving 

around the outdoors and outdoor 

recreation. While everyone likes to 

think their work is important, in a time 

with so much content being created 

on a daily basis it’s hard to even 

pretend individual pieces of work are 

important. I debate this internally day 

after day, which is strange for someone 

who is exactly where they one day 

wanted to be. 

I began shooting photos as a 

hobby in high school but didn’t study 

photography in college as I never 

thought it could be anything more 

than something I did for fun. I did, 

however, longingly look at a wide 

range of photographers who had 

created careers out of shooting photos 

and fantasized how cool it would be to 

one day do the same. 

As college came to an end I had no 

idea what I was going to do and just 

for the sake of it applied to intern for 

acclaimed photographer Chris Burkard. 

Still unsure how, I got the internship, 

asked to stick around for a second 

internship round, and eventually got 

hired on full time as a photo assistant. 

Today I continue to both work for 

Chris and am pursuing a freelance 

career of my own. When people ask 

me what I do, I tell them I am an 

outdoor photographer. Fifteen year 

old me would be incredibly happy, but 

twenty-four year old me can feel quite 

conflicted about it. 

For some context, my mom is a 

Superior Court Judge. My dad works 

for an affordable housing nonprofit, 

and my older brother creates 

renewable climate action plans for 

towns and cities throughout the West 

Coast. And I, the youngest, have to 

chuckle to myself a little bit when I tell 

people I’m an outdoor photographer. 

When I look at the big picture in 

this way, what I do seems incredibly 

unimportant. Aren’t there better ways 

to spend my time - both for myself and 

for others? I wonder. 


I was always curious if other 

creatives felt this way, if they 

pondered the importance of their 

work and careers - or if they all 

just thought they were the coolest 

things since sliced bread. At times 

it feels as if everyone in the industry 

takes themselves too seriously, with 

long winded Instagram captions 

and lots of self professed hours 

of “grinding.” Others however, 

seem to revel in the fact that they 

have turned such a funny thing 

- spending time outside - into a 

viable career. I don’t think I’ve 

chosen which side of the fence to 

stand on for this one yet. 

It wasn’t until I watched a film 

made by one of my biggest 

inspirations in the photo world that 

I realized other photographers do 

think about this, and that some 

have thought far longer and harder 

than I on the issue. In Jerome 

Tanon’s self-narrated film, The 

Eternal Beauty of Snowboarding, 

he offers his own thoughts on 

the matter after years of shooting 

photos of snowboarding. 

Somewhere in the hour long film he 

exclaims: 

“But still, while the world is 

struggling for peace, human rights, 

and saving our planet, we’re up 

here jumping in the snow, thinking 

that we’re the coolest thing around. 

Where’s the beauty in that? 

Roots: A Childhood of 

snowboarding comes 

in handy for capturing 

44 The Goodland Journal athletes Volume in Two Japan. 45

“What is the point of having 

freedom if you don’t use it to 

do what you love most?” 

Well, aren’t we using that very freedom 

our ancestors fought for? Shouldn’t we 

be a little more grateful, though? Surely, 

yeah. Thank you. Now let me ask, what is 

the point of having freedom if you don’t 

use it to do what you love most?” 

In this short quote he nails it all. The 

subtle feeling of guilt, the uncertainty 

on the matter, and the idea that maybe 

we’re actually doing exactly what we 

should be. Yes, there are so many more 

important issues facing the world today 

that it seems silly to be shooting photos 

- yet I think that a lot of good can be 

done with photography. And yes, my 

ancestors surely had it harder than I. 

My great grandfather immigrated here 

from Russia to create a better life for his 

family. On the other side of the family, my 

grandmother immigrated here will fleeing 

Poland during WWII and the Holocaust. 

But doesn’t that make what I am lucky 

enough to do all the more beautiful? 

Few things give me more pleasure than 

calling my grandmother and telling her 

about my most recent adventures, my 

trips that I get to call work. She tells 

me every time we talk about how lucky 

I am and how much joy she gets from 

seeing me take advantage of all the 

opportunities I’m given. 


Cold Fingers: Dumping 

snow in Japan, captured on 

48 The Goodland Journal Volume 35mm Two format. 49

Like Jerome, I have a feeling that many 

years down the line I’ll still be contemplating 

the value of my work, but I’ll still be doing 

it. I don’t think there will ever be an answer 

- it’s something I’ll always wonder about, 

somewhere between feeling lucky and feeling 

guilty. For now, the more I do think about 

it, the more I desire to shoot meaningful, 

impactful projects that could put my work 

closer to the “do good” nature of my parents’ 

and brother’s work while still making a living 

from shooting photos. Another piece of me 

will work to just be happy where I am, making 

good use of all the freedom I’ve been lucky 

enough to have to do what I love most - taking 

photos. 


One man’s journey to the creative life. 

By G.P. Scheppler 


The air tastes of salt 

as we wiggle into 

neoprene second 

skins above the metronomic 

thumping of south swell. Blue 

rays of the new day illuminate 

groups of stoke seekers 

scattered about the parking 

lot like dandelion on seeds. 

Before locking my keys in a 

strong box and turning on my 

camera I always try to take a 

second to be grateful. 

Today is a good day to be 

alive and in nature. 

My surf buddy for the day 

is a soon to be retired Force 

Recon Marine, a man who by 

the looks of his service record 

should be wired tighter than a 

duck’s asshole. Yet, before me 

stands a smiling man as slack 

as the tide; more The Dude 

than Rambo. 

We met through One More 

Wave, a 501(3)(c) non-profit 

based out of San Diego that 

provides custom adaptive surf 

equipment and community 

to disabled veterans, but we 

would have been friends no 

matter the circumstance. Cut 

from the same cloth, as the 

saying goes. 

Between sessions we gab 

about work, relationships, 


family, and other things normal friends 

talk about. Only occasionally does the 

conversation drift to darker subjects or 

tales of our time in service. Such is the 

nature of life in a community afflicted 

by the plight of suicide. 

One tends to focus on the present 

and future to keep from going mad 

when haunted by echoes of the past. 

Had you told me a decade ago that 

I would spend my days working in the 

surf zone I would’ve assumed it would 

be in a water safety capacity. That I 

get paid for words and pictures is a 

fact that still makes me giggle with 

amusement whenever a paycheck 

clears. 

If only my high school English 

teachers could see me now. 

My career as a professional 

storyteller started in 2018 when I 

became a Rebele Journalism Scholar 

at Cabrillo College. I was assigned to a 

local paper, the Pajaronian, and told to 

introduce myself to the Sports Editor. 

Gone were my days in booty shorts 

leading Crossfit classes replaced with 

late night deadlines and hours onend 

spent at amature sporting events. 

Though I would have been loathed to 

admit it at the time, the turn of events 

couldn’t have made me happier. I 

always wanted to be a sports writer. 

I figured out quickly that I could get 

paid twice as much by taking pictures 

of the games I covered, so I invested 

in a Sony A6000 with a couple of 

kit lenses. After a short runway of 

watching Youtube videos I was selling 

shots to local publications of various 

sporting events and eventually 

parlayed my skill set into a staff 

position at Cabrillo College. 

Life as a grown up was starting to 

take shape. My path stretched out in 

front of me clear as day. 

After two hours of intermittent 

light and elusive swell we call it quits 

and leave to punch into our day 

jobs. Living as close as we do to the 

sea comes with a great deal of fiscal 

responsibility. So we hustle off to Zoom 

calls and clay diamonds, all the while 

texting each other updates and surf 

projections for our inevitable evening 

session. The morning has yielded 

some gold, but the two of us failed to 

link up for the perfect shot. The hunt 

must continue, we shall return. 

When the pandemic hit, I found 

myself out of a job and looking for 

ways to make ends meet. Freelancing 

my services to whomever would 

return my calls, I cobbled together a 

couple months and spent all my free 

time studying the technical elements 

of photography in a way I never had 

before. I was leveling up my skills, 

something told me I was going to 

need it. 

56 The Goodland Journal The Head Honcho: One More Wave founder Alex West drops into Volume a perfect Two peak. 57

“If only my high 

school English 

teachers could see 

me now.” 

When dry lightning ignited the state 

of California in late August I found 

my way into the CZU Lightning 

Complex Fire evacuation zone and 

started getting stories out through 

words, pictures, and social media 

reporting. A few well placed jokes and 

knowing how to carry myself in unsafe 

scenarios enabled me to go beyond 

the conventional press junket out 

onto the fireline with federal wildland 

firefighters from the Bureau of Land 

Management. 

The images and stories I gathered 

there changed the trajectory of my 

whole career. I sold my first cover 

photo and suddenly my phone started 

ringing with inquiries. 

For the first time, I felt like a true 

professional storyteller. 

My surf buddy is hardcore about 

surfing, much as I suspect he has been 

hardcore about everything in his life 

up until this point. He regularly logs 

double days, and has been known to 

surf three times between moons. 


Then again, if surfing brings peace 

who could blame his borderline 

obsession with the sea. 

Working together to get impactful 

images is truly a pleasure. The more 

experienced the rider the safer the 

shoot tends to be. Folks often ask why 

I don’t frequent beginner breaks. Short 

answer, I like having both eyes and 

only the idea of what it feels like to be 

run over by a surf fin. 

As the sun begins to set we connect 

perfectly on three consecutive waves. 

The feeling of excitement at getting 

such epic shots is only elevated by the 

fact they feature a friend. There is no 

talk of Instagram, no thought of how 

to sell the shot, just a moment of stoke 

between two new, old friends. 

The mission of One More Wave 

is to save veteran lives through surf 

and art therapies, and whenever we 

surf together the mission gets a bit 

stronger. 

Deep: Unknown rider 

getting so pitted at The 

Hook in Santa Cruz. 


Seekers of Swell, 

Snow, and Stoke 

Thank you for reading Volume Two of the Goodland Journal! We 

hope these five stories of adventure in the outdoors have motivated 

you to get out and chase your own experiences in nature. 

Above all, we believe that the outdoors is a place for people from 

all backgrounds, where one doesn’t need to be a sponsored athlete 

or own a fancy camera to discover special, life-changing moments. 

But when you do happen upon one of these special moments of 

swell, snow, or stoke, be sure to live it out fully. 

As always, keep trekking! 


Volume Two 

The Send Off: (Top to 

Bottom) inser typing 

about each photo here. 

64 The Goodland Journal 

www.tothegoodland.com

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