Who Belongs in the Outdoors? Reflections from a Patagonia Storytelling Breakfast at Impact Hub Zürich

The conversation began with a question that sounded simple but lingered longer than expected: when we say we are reclaiming the outdoors, reclaiming it from whom?

The question hung in the room at Impact Hub Zürich' Viadukt, where Patagonia x Impact Hub Zurich had invited a group of speakers and guests for their storytelling breakfast series. This time the theme was “Common Ground: Reclaiming the Outdoors for All.”  The gathering brought together climbers, researchers, and community builders working across Europe to rethink how outdoor culture is shaped, and who feels comfortable entering it.

Listening to the discussion brilliantly moderated by Impact Hub team member Eva Aschwanden, I found myself between softly triggered and slightly amused by the irony of my own presence in the room. Not in a condescending type of way but rather thinking about how it felt like to grow up in Switzerland. Like many children here, I spent my early years in the 'Pfadi' — the Swiss equivalent of the Girl Scouts. Weekends meant forests, campfires, knots, and long hikes through landscapes that, at least on paper, are supposed to belong to everyone equally.

And yet, if I am honest, hiking has never been my preferred way of spending a Sunday.

Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, the enthusiasm faded. I sometimes wonder whether it is simply a matter of temperament. Perhaps I am not particularly good at relaxing in slow landscapes, or whether something deeper lingers in the background. Memories of being the only visibly different child in certain spaces, perhaps. Or simply the subtle awareness of being watched in environments where you fully stand out. It is difficult to pinpoint.

What I do know is that the relationship people have with nature is rarely as neutral as we like to imagine.

Switzerland likes to see itself as a country where access to nature is universal. The Alps shape the national imagination as much as the physical landscape. Trains and Swiss Post buses carry hikers directly to alpine valleys, ski slopes are part of school culture, and the weekend ritual of escaping into forests or mountains feels almost civic in nature.

But the conversation that morning made clear that access and belonging are not the same thing.

The first speaker, Caroline de Groot, introduced the work of Alpinehearts, a collective of women and queer climbers who organize an annual climbing festival in Göschenen, Switzerland. Founded as a Swiss association in 2023, Alpinehearts creates spaces that emphasize connection, visibility, and joy in the mountains. Their initiative is not simply about climbing; it is about reshaping who is visible within alpine culture.

The need for such initiatives becomes clearer when looking at the numbers. In Switzerland, only around 2.7% of certified mountain guides are women. Alpine climbing and guiding remain heavily male-dominated professions, and role models are still relatively scarce.

Research presented during the session suggests that women often learn more effectively in women-led groups and mentoring environments, which is one of the reasons communities like Alpinehearts have emerged.

Following de Groot’s presentation, Jessyca Isidoro spoke about her work with Colour Your Trail, an initiative focused on building outdoor community among people of color across the DACH region — Germany, Austria, and Switzerland. The project aims to create authentic outdoor experiences while collaborating with industry partners to expand representation in outdoor culture.

As the founder of AfroSwissters, a platform that connects Afro-descendant women across Switzerland, I listened to this part of the conversation with particular interest. Many of the dynamics described sounded familiar. In communities where people are underrepresented, belonging rarely appears automatically. It usually begins with small acts of invitation. A hike organized together, a shared experience that gradually lowers the invisible threshold of entry.

Often the barrier is not physical but cultural.

One of the research projects presented by Margot de Lange during the session, conducted through the initiative Opening Up the Outdoors (OUTO), examined participation patterns in outdoor activities across Germany, Austria, and Switzerland. The data produced an interesting paradox.

Interest in nature is almost universal.

90% of respondents reported spending time outdoors in the previous month, 80% within the past week, and around 40% described outdoor time as part of their daily routine.

And yet experiences of belonging vary widely.

The same research found that 65% of people of color reported experiencing discrimination in everyday life related to their visible identity, with even higher numbers among younger respondents. It would be naïve to assume that these experiences suddenly disappear when people enter forests, mountains, or climbing gyms.

At the same time, the study revealed something fascinating about how people imagine their ideal day outdoors.

Among respondents, 68% of people of color described their preferred outdoor experience as social, emphasizing group activities and shared exploration. By contrast, 63% of white respondents described a more solitary experience, imagining their perfect day in nature as time spent alone.

This distinction reveals something deeper about the cultural narrative surrounding outdoor adventure.

Much of modern outdoor imagery — from mountaineering history to contemporary brand campaigns — celebrates the solitary figure conquering the landscape: the climber reaching a summit, the lone hiker on a ridge line, the athlete standing above the world.

But for many people, nature is not primarily about solitude.

It is about community.

Initiatives such as Alpinehearts and Colour Your Trail attempt to shift this narrative by building environments where people enter outdoor spaces together. Often these communities begin with remarkably simple gestures: a group hike, a climbing session, a festival organized around shared experience rather than performance.

What starts as a small invitation can grow into a network.

In many ways, this mirrors the logic behind communities like AfroSwissters. When representation is limited, belonging often begins with creating spaces where people can see themselves reflected in others. Once that foundation exists, the broader landscape begins to feel more accessible.

Perhaps this is why the question raised at the beginning of the breakfast continued to echo quietly in my mind.

Who belongs in the outdoors?

The mountains themselves are indifferent. They neither invite nor exclude. But the cultures surrounding them are constantly evolving. Reclaiming the outdoors may not mean taking something back. It may simply mean widening the circle of people who feel comfortable showing up, whether for a summit attempt, a group climb, or just a walk that begins with someone saying: join us.

Perhaps this is precisely why gatherings like this one matter. Spaces such as Impact Hub Zürich are not mountains or forests, but they function as a kind of civic trailhead. Places where different communities, ideas, and experiences intersect before people step back out into the world. With its network of entrepreneurs, activists, researchers, and community builders, the Hub has become one of the city’s quieter convening points for conversations that sit at the intersection of culture, sustainability, and social change.

On this particular morning, the conversation about outdoor culture became something slightly broader: a reflection on how communities form, how invitations travel, and how belonging is often built through small acts rather than grand declarations.

The mountains may remain unchanged for centuries. But the ways we move through them, and the people we move alongside are still being written.

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Join the next Patagonia x Impact Hub Zurich Storytelling Breakfast at the Impact Open Hub Day on 19th June at Colab Zurich (Sihlquai 131, 8005 Zürich)