Season 4, Episode 1: Baratunde Thurston Aims to Share a More Inspiring Narrative About Us

In the premiere of Travel Tales by Dinogo—season four!—we chat with Baratunde Thurston, the Emmy-nominated host of America Outdoors, about his thrilling escapades on the show, how travel influenced his childhood in D.C., and the healing power of our connection to nature.

Transcript

Baratunde Thurston, host of America Outdoors: Let me give a broad overview before diving into specifics, as one story could take me deeper into Dinogo.

Aislyn Greene, host of Travel Tales by Dinogo: Well said, well said.

Baratunde: So, do our guests participate in a drinking game? Like every time someone says Dinogo?

Aislyn: Well, we’re about to start that! If you have any vodka lying around, go ahead and pour yourself a glass. I’ll join in too.

Aislyn: I’m Aislyn Greene, and this is Travel Tales by Dinogo. In each episode, we hear from a traveler whose journey transformed their life. This season, season four, we’ll explore a whirlwind Picasso art pilgrimage, culinary adventures in France, and the story of a blind surfer tackling new waves, among many other tales.

Additionally, I’ll be chatting with each storyteller about the big questions of travel. Though I’m not physically sitting with them—I’m recording all of this from my houseboat in Sausalito—you get the idea.

In this episode, prepare to be inspired by Baratunde Thurston, the Emmy-nominated host of the PBS series America Outdoors, which is amazing. The show is currently in its second season, and the final episode of season two airs on October 11th.

Baratunde is one of those captivating individuals who seems to have lived multiple lives—like, twelve of them. Honestly, I could have chatted with him for hours. But for your sake, I didn’t. Baratunde is a writer, comedian, and activist. He hosts the well-loved podcast How to Citizen with Baratunde and authored the New York Times best-selling humorous memoir How to Be Black. He combines all his experiences and insights in America Outdoors, aiming to share a more uplifting narrative about us.

This episode is a bit different from the usual format; we’ll have a longer conversation with Baratunde. However, he will share a significant travel story at the episode's conclusion, so be sure to stay tuned for that. Alright, let’s welcome Baratunde.

Aislyn: Hi, Baratunde! Welcome to Travel Tales. How’s your day going?

Baratunde: Hi, Aislyn! I’m doing great, thank you for asking. How about you?

Aislyn: I’m good too, no complaints. Today, we’re here to discuss your journey through season two of America Outdoors. Could you give me a brief overview of what America Outdoors is all about?

Baratunde: America Outdoors is my PBS series, officially titled America Outdoors with Baratunde Thurston. I portray myself, Baratunde Thurston, as part of that title. This show delves into the profound connection Americans have with nature, featuring people who live, work, and engage with the outdoors.

I often think of it as America (Long Pause) Outdoors. It’s fundamentally a show about people who have a deep relationship with nature.

Aislyn: I love it! It’s such a fantastic show. I can’t wait to dive deeper into it.

Baratunde: Thank you! I appreciate that.

Aislyn: In your introduction, you mention wanting to tell a better story of us. What does that mean to you?

Baratunde: Hmm. I believe stories shape our reality more than we often realize. We like to think we live in an objectively real world, but mainly we understand it through mediation and narrative. Our perception comes from images presented by others.

We inherit a narrative about the world and our place within it, including who holds power and who is included or excluded. The current story we've been consuming reflects deep separation, division, incompetence, and negativity. However, I believe a better narrative is possible for us.

Aislyn: There’s such a sense of unity and joy! I felt like I was smiling throughout every episode, thinking, who are these incredible people you’ve discovered?

Baratunde: Yes, great! It’s working. The effect is taking hold.

Aislyn: The effect is taking hold! You also mentioned that our relationship with nature defines us as individuals and as a nation. How would you describe that relationship right now?

Baratunde: It’s complicated. Beautifully so. Each of us has a unique relationship with this land. The narrative that has excluded many from the definition of who can be American is intertwined with our connection to the land. This is part of our legacy and our present reality, filled with trauma and pain, yet also a profound sense of identity in a positive light.

As I’ve traveled to create this show, I’ve noticed that people take pride in their natural resources, much like they do in their sports teams. They’ll say, “You must see our river, check out these manatees, visit our canyons, have you been to the fishing hole?” There’s a deep pride in place. While we increasingly live in the cloud, I feel a strong pull to remain grounded. It’s been exciting to meet others who feel this same connection and are crafting a narrative that goes beyond just human experience.

This narrative can be as personal as, “This lake is part of who I am,” for the Klamath people in Oregon, or, “This ridge or these hawks are integral to my sense of community.” I’ve encountered immense pride and identity, prompting a desire to preserve and protect these spaces. This includes extending access to those with different abilities who may not always feel welcome in the outdoors, or to future generations who want to live on this planet, especially as climate change makes that increasingly challenging.

This relationship carries significant implications, and I’ve genuinely enjoyed exploring all its facets.

Aislyn: Do you find that as you visit these places and connect with this sense of pride and identity, your desire to protect and preserve them also grows?

Baratunde: Absolutely.

Aislyn: Indeed.

Baratunde: When I visited Salt Lake for our Utah episode, I went fat-pedal biking with climate scientist Ben Abbott. He feels a deep commitment to safeguard this resource, the lake, and his identity as both a Mormon and a climate scientist. It’s a complex and beautiful situation—something we don’t often hear about.

I too feel compelled to protect that lake. We were biking over where the water once was, where it’s supposed to be. I checked Google Maps, and it shows a blue area, but I’m actually in a very brown, slightly toxic space. I feel inspired to take action, to shout from the rooftops what Ben shared: we have five years before the Great Salt Lake could become merely a historical reference, rather than a living reality.

Absolutely, I felt the same motivation when I visited the Okefenokee Swamp in southeast Georgia and met Reverend Antoine Nixon. Though from a different faith, he shares a similar mission to protect this swamp, which stores significant carbon and provides drinking water for millions in the North Florida watershed. I’m like, yes, we must protect this swamp. Let’s do it!

Aislyn: Definitely. Before we dive deeper, I’d love to know—when and where did your connection with nature begin?

Baratunde: My mother was quite the adventurer; she often rode her bicycle with my older sister, Belinda, and had a profound love for the outdoors. She incorporated nature into my childhood through activities like the Boy Scouts, starting me on that journey early. We grew up in a tough neighborhood during the '80s, where playing outside wasn’t the safest option.

Fortunately, we lived close to Rock Creek Park in Washington, D.C. My mom would plan excursions for me and my friends, taking us along the beautiful bike paths that stretch from the airport to Monticello. We’d ride by Rock Creek and hike the C&O Canal. She was a member of the Sierra Club—a certified hippie who wore tie-dye, frequented natural food co-ops, and decorated our home with anti-nuclear power stickers and posters.

Aislyn: That’s amazing!

Baratunde: She had a profound love for the environment and nature. That’s how my journey began—with my mom nurturing that relationship and providing safe spaces to explore as the safety of our streets diminished.

Aislyn: It’s incredible how influential that can be, right? Having a parent who encourages you and leads by example.

Baratunde: We took numerous road trips in our Datsun B210 station wagon, traveling the entire East Coast before I turned 12—from Florida to Maine. We camped at state parks, KOA sites, and national parks. I vividly recall visiting Acadia National Park in Maine.

I have memories of campfires with park rangers on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, the wild horses of Chincoteague and Assateague Islands, and the crabs of Chesapeake Bay. All of that shaped what my childhood was about.

Aislyn: That sounds fantastic! It seems like those experiences directly, or perhaps indirectly, led you to where you are now, hosting this show.

Baratunde: It was both indirect at first and then became direct. My mom was focused on surviving and ensuring I did too. She encouraged me with two things: "Here’s a bike, go ride but stay close and be safe," and "Here’s a computer," which she was familiar with as a government programmer long before it became mainstream.

Aislyn: Wow.

Baratunde: My mom wasn’t a tech mogul like Bill Gates; she was a humble, non-college-educated black woman from D.C. Yet she navigated her way into this tech world and brought me along. As I grew, I took my interest in computers seriously, fueling my passions for arts and performance, while the outdoors took a backseat. In college, my bike remained part of my identity, mostly for commuting, and sometimes I’d ride along the river to unwind. I hadn't camped in years.

After moving to New York City, a place not exactly famous for outdoor adventures, I made sure to keep my bike and even picked up surfing. However, I was mainly immersed in the digital media and political landscapes. So when my agency sent an email asking if I’d be interested in hosting a PBS show about America's outdoors, I thought, "You have no idea how much this means to me."

It felt like a homecoming—a reconnection with the Earth after being so caught up in the digital cloud. It was a wonderful reminder of the aspects of my life that truly mattered.

Aislyn: That perfectly leads us into season two! I must say, I’m absolutely captivated by everyone you've met on this journey. It’s such an extraordinary group of people. I’m curious, who or what surprised you the most this season?

Baratunde: Alright, I’ll keep the list brief. Arkansas surprised me with its stunning beauty; it was the only state I hadn't visited in the lower 48. I also found the intricacies of freediving to be much more challenging than I had anticipated.

I was taken aback by the emotional moments we encountered—some truly tearful instances that affected both me and our guests. In Oregon, I climbed a tree in Elaine, Arkansas, which brought back memories of a tragic race massacre. In Utah, while rock climbing with Nikki Smith, a trans climber, we shared her experiences alongside an Iraq war veteran. The outdoors played a significant role in the healing journeys of these individuals.

What struck me was the consistency of these healing stories. Additionally, I was surprised by how many people echoed and embodied Indigenous ways of relating to nature, even if they weren't Indigenous themselves.

While I wasn't surprised by my interactions with Indigenous communities in season two—thanks to my experiences in season one—I was intrigued by the non-Indigenous individuals who expressed similar sentiments. I found myself thinking, "Have you all been reading the same materials? This is fascinating." In terms of climate action, I learned about a regenerative quartz mine in Arkansas where the owner consulted Indigenous people decades ago before purchasing the land. This decision transformed his business into a carbon-negative operation. How incredible is that?

Then there’s the regenerative ranch in Oregon. These ranchers, originally wanting to raise cattle and live the cowboy life, discovered a new path. They’ve reduced the grazing land and preserved much of it as wild. They avoid pesticides, herbicides, and hormones for both land and animals, resulting in a healthier ecosystem. This has led to an increase in bird and fish species, cleaner water, and more resources for those downstream, thanks to the responsible practices of these ranchers upstream.

And I thought, "Here’s this guy who embodies the classic white cowboy image, yet his words are unexpected." He said, "Technically, I own this land, but I see myself as just a steward." That truly caught me off guard—in a delightful way.

Aislyn: Maybe that’s a bit relieving too, I’m not sure.

Baratunde: Indeed, every place we visit carries a hint of sorrow due to climate change. Yet, there’s also joy in how people are responding and forging deeper connections with each other.

So, I’ve gained a greater respect for the complexities of change and a profound appreciation for those striving to adapt. It’s about finding ways to foster connection, and it’s a diverse group of people doing this—not just the climate enthusiasts.

Aislyn: In the first episode, you explored the entirety of the Suwannee River, right? That’s 246 miles, if I recall correctly.

Baratunde: Yes, indeed. From the headwaters all the way to the mouth.

Aislyn: What was that experience like?

Baratunde: It was incredible! I experienced so many different modes of transportation. I began in a canoe, then hopped into a flat-bottom swamp boat—whatever those are called—then kayaked, swam in a wetsuit, rode motorcycles, Jet Skis, cars, and traditional motorboats. That’s at least eight different ways to travel down this river, and you really get to witness its transformation.

It all starts in a swamp, which I usually don't consider beautiful, but this is my second swamp experience with the show, and it's stunning. I usually prefer to see alligators from a safe distance, like on TV, but there I was, in the swamp, with gators all around. I even stepped out of the boat—against every instinct—to film a conversation on a peat bog, and thankfully, no one got eaten or bitten. I’m here, intact, to share about it.

At every bend of the river, the water shifts, the current changes, and the people and their activities vary, yet there's a common thread of connection and significance tied to the river. You’ve got folks with beer cans and lawn chairs, scientists using drones—everyone’s engaged with this river, appreciating its power and its role in their stories, or even in their meals.

Aislyn: Yes. And in their way of life.

Baratunde: Absolutely! Love that perspective.

Aislyn: One person you met at the start of the episode was Reverend Nixon. What really resonated with me from your conversation was his idea of merging faith with nature; it was truly beautiful.

I’d say that most of my so-called religious experiences have taken place in nature or closely related to it. I’m curious—do you find nature to be spiritual in any way, or has that changed for you as you’ve reconnected with it throughout the show?

Baratunde: Yes, nature is profoundly spiritual. While in New Mexico, I rafted part of the Rio Grande with Louie Hena, who belongs to two Indigenous nations. I can’t recall their names right now, but he highlighted aspects of the river in a unique manner. Instead of saying, 'Here’s where a deer drinks,' he referred to things like, 'That’s the medicine cabinet. That’s the altar, and over there is the playground.'

He was identifying the natural world for its gifts, saying things like, 'That’s the pantry. That’s the hospital. That’s the classroom.' He portrayed nature as a source of everything essential to our lives rather than something separate from us. What the reverend did in Okefenokee, southeast Georgia, during the Suwannee River episode was lead a church service outdoors, linking biblical teachings to our duty to care for this planet and ourselves by nurturing it. He spoke of dressing and tending to the garden, using language that we don’t typically associate with climate activism or southeastern religious practices.

To answer your question, I’ve always felt a deep reverence and connection to the outdoors, especially near water, thanks to my childhood. I was a water-loving kid who enjoyed splashing in the sink, which served as my bathtub. Every Thanksgiving, our family would head to the coast, and I have photos of us braving the wind and rain together.

Aislyn: That’s wonderful!

Baratunde: Yes, just being out there. It became an annual family tradition for us to express gratitude, focusing less on the turkey and more on the water. During my most stressful times in college and afterward, I would ride my bike along the river, finding a deep sense of harmony with my surroundings. I vividly remember one moment when my pedaling speed aligned perfectly with the wind speed.

In that instant, the rush faded away, and I felt effortlessly in sync, gliding on wheels that felt weightless. It was a profoundly transcendent experience—spiritual, even. So yes, the natural world truly becomes a spiritual space when I take the time to breathe deeply and sit quietly to appreciate it.

Aislyn: It’s fascinating to hear all the varied perspectives on this. Many of the stories on the show seem to center around the deep, meaningful connections people have with nature. What experience frightened you the most?

Baratunde: Climbing trees in Oregon was definitely intimidating. That was quite scary.

Aislyn: Are you someone who enjoys heights?

Baratunde: I wouldn’t label myself as a heights enthusiast. I used to be extremely afraid of heights, but that fear has mostly faded. I mean, I was even in small planes in Arkansas and took the controls for a bit—surprisingly, I was comfortable with it.

I also went paragliding in our Utah episode, which was in tandem with a pro. I managed to walk off the edge of a perfectly good cliff without too much panic, trusting the updraft and the expertise of my guide. However, I wasn’t keen on taking the controls; I told him, 'I’m happy being a good passenger. You steer, and I’ll just enjoy the ride. No need for any confusion—I’m not a student driver; I’m here to relax.'

The experiences that pushed me out of my comfort zone were significant, especially that tree climbing moment, which was quite unsettling. Part of it was the height—we were scaling an 80-foot maple tree, which is no small feat.

Aislyn: Were you using gear for the climb, or was it free climbing?

Baratunde: No, this was with gear. In this kind of tree climbing, you're actually climbing a rope that's attached parallel to the trunk. It’s not like my mental image of scaling a tree, where I’m gripping the trunk like a rock or ice climber would.

Instead, you're tethered to a rope, but I felt strangely unanchored. There were also emotional hurdles I faced during that experience. It wasn’t a physical challenge but rather a psychological and emotional one that took me by surprise.

Aislyn: I also wanted to discuss the final season, which premieres next week. It contrasts with some of your earlier adventures. Although there was still an element of danger, you traveled to Maine to explore what draws people outdoors in winter. I’m curious how that experience shifted your perception of cold—did you come to embrace it more? It seemed like an emotionally charged episode towards the end as well.

Baratunde: Every episode of America Outdoors is filled with emotion, Aislyn. My trip to Maine was partly a return to a familiar place. I often visited as a child, going to Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park on memorable trips with my mom. Having lived in Boston for years, I’ve developed a strong connection to New England, and Maine is woven into my experiences there.

But looking at cold from a broader perspective reveals its purpose. It's not merely something to avoid or a source of pain. I discovered that Mainers, with their pragmatic outlook, accept and embrace the cold as essential for a fulfilling life. Many of us can sidestep discomfort, which is a fundamental aspect of our society. We often design our lives to minimize discomfort, but in Maine, cold is an unavoidable reality. I encountered many people there who metaphorically and literally welcomed the cold, viewing it as a feature rather than a flaw.

Now, there’s a certain stillness. You can access unique culinary experiences. There’s a spiritual aspect to it all. Appreciating summer becomes richer when you’ve embraced the cold of winter, fall, and spring, as those seasons dominate up there.

I had the chance to join an oyster boat, gaining insights into both the industry and Maine's culinary identity, as well as its climate challenges. Former lobster fishermen are shifting to oysters because lobsters are migrating north to Canada—not for the healthcare, but due to rising temperatures. So, the people of Maine are adapting, and I must say, Mere Point oysters are among the best I’ve tasted. Anytime I can eat on camera, I’m in!

I spent time with young kids learning to love the outdoors through winter activities, helping them acclimate. I saw parents take their babies to a 5k ice run, and some even practice Snoga—yoga in the snow. They're a unique bunch, a bit like Canadians, but distinctly ours.

Aislyn: You mentioned this earlier; there's a recurring theme this season about how nature can heal and support us. I felt that your conversation in Maine, particularly during the snowshoe outing with those using nature for recovery, really highlighted this idea.

What do you think makes nature a source of healing for something as challenging and isolating as addiction?

Baratunde: Nature serves as a remarkable role model for anyone who has faced adversity. It tells a story of recovery—storms can devastate, fires can burn, and droughts can dry up landscapes. Yet, nature persists. It shows a relentless spirit in overcoming obstacles and evolving from them. Similarly, as humans, we may feel burned or knocked down, and parts of us may wither away.

One of the keys to recovery is recognizing that it’s achievable. For those at WMARI, the Western Maine Addiction Recovery Institute, they are tackling substance abuse challenges and finding allies among the woods and trees, which offer a judgment-free space. The trees don’t place any expectations on you.

Aislyn: Absolutely.

Baratunde: Nature is simply there for us, providing support and enhancing our ability to breathe deeply, all while evoking a sense of wonder and beauty. I recall one of the people we spoke with—whether it was Kari or Aaron—expressing that learning to appreciate beauty and feeling deserving of it, even after the harm caused by substance abuse, is vital for restoring our humanity.

Moreover, connecting this to Indigenous wisdom, when we assist in healing nature, we simultaneously facilitate our own healing. This sentiment echoed from Louis in New Mexico to Mick Rose in Portland: by nurturing nature, we nurture ourselves; healing nature translates to healing ourselves.

Engaging in activities like restoring wetlands, revitalizing bird species, caring for rivers, or planting seeds—even in New Mexico, where burn scars remain from fires—these efforts can help communities recover. The youth working to restore the forest, once a constant in their lives, forge connections with one another through shared purpose and strengthen their ties to their changing environment.

Aislyn: There’s something profound about being connected to something larger than ourselves, creating a sense of humility that feels good.

Baratunde: It’s refreshing to pause and appreciate the interconnectedness of life, whether we’re facing serious challenges like addiction or lighter issues like an overflowing inbox. It’s a moment to acknowledge the humility inherent in our human experience.

It’s not merely about how vast nature is and how tiny I feel; it’s about recognizing that I am a part of this expansive, beautiful existence. When you gaze up at the night sky—this is the ultimate free experience—seeing the Milky Way reminds you that you are within the very cosmos you’re observing. What a realization!

Aislyn: Absolutely. I think all of that really resonates throughout the show. What do you hope viewers take away from it?

Baratunde: I want them to think, "This is on PBS? No way! This is incredible. How can this be a PBS show? My tax dollars are supporting this? Awesome! I should donate more!"

And I hope they realize that we have a wealth of resources, a sense of belonging, and community right outside our door. Even as technology connects us like never before, we’re paradoxically more disconnected from each other, from nature, and from our history. I hope this show inspires viewers to appreciate the significance of connecting with the natural world as we navigate the rise of artificial intelligence.

Aislyn: Well put. Yes, AI is definitely a different discussion altogether.

Baratunde: Indeed! Did you catch how I pulled that together? That’s just a teaser for episode two. We’re diving deep into a multi-part story.

Aislyn: Fantastic! Well, to wrap things up—since the show is titled Travel Tales—could you share a travel story from your own experiences? A bedtime story, perhaps?

Baratunde: Absolutely! Let’s set the scene: it’s the summer of 1989, and our protagonist—who isn’t fond of that title but let’s go with it—is a 12-year-old named Baratunde, living in the Mount Pleasant neighborhood of Washington, D.C. This area is experiencing a significant transformation. Predominantly Black and Latino, there’s a noticeable increase in police activity and unlicensed sales happening right outside his living room window.

Tension fills the atmosphere. His mother is worried about his upcoming junior high school, finances, and safety. In response, she and Baratunde plot an adventurous escape—a journey across America by train. While ‘they’ feels like a stretch for Baratunde’s contribution to the budget, his mother buys a rail pass that grants them a remarkable level of freedom to explore on specific trains during this pivotal summer.

They embark on their journey from Washington, D.C. aboard an Amtrak train headed for Chicago. Upon their arrival, they find themselves with half a day to spare before the next train. They make the most of it by visiting the Museum of Science and Industry, exploring a coal mine that is part of the museum, and then racing back to the Chicago train station.

They’re so captivated by the Museum of Science and Industry that they nearly miss their train, but they manage to hop aboard an almost moving train heading south to the great Republic of Texas. As they travel west of Chicago, the trains grow larger—super liner, double-decker cars equipped with all-glass dining areas. It feels like they’re floating over the Great Plains, and when they arrive in El Paso, Texas, their journey is far from over.

Crossing the border by bus into Mexico, they board the Ferrocarriles Nacional de México, which they ride for days through Copper Canyon—six times larger than the Grand Canyon—until they reach Los Mochis. There, they stay at a cozy bed-and-breakfast where Baratunde spots a travel writer working on her laptop in 1989. This sparks mind-blowing possibilities, and even the Coca-Cola tastes different.

Baratunde and his mother are on a very tight meal budget since she’s a government worker supporting two kids. Their diet mainly consists of peanut butter and raisins stuffed into toothpaste tubes they bought from REI before their adventure. Thankfully, raisins travel well, and they return to the U.S. after witnessing forest fires in the mountains of Mexico just south of the border.

Their journey continues west through Flagstaff, Arizona, and the Grand Canyon, making their way to Los Angeles. They visit Universal Studios and travel the full length of the West Coast up to Seattle. They stay at a YWCA, but upon reaching Seattle, they encounter a mishap: a drawbridge is out of order, forcing them to camp overnight in a train station. They then take a bus from Bakersfield to a town that Baratunde can no longer recall, as time has faded those memories.

Seattle is enjoyable; they stay at a YWCA and visit Pike Place Market. Then, they head east again, crossing the northern states and catching glimpses of buffalo through the window in Montana. Upon returning through Chicago, they downgrade from the luxurious double-decker trains back to the more typical routes, arriving at Union Station with a newfound perspective on this vast nation they’ve explored.

The journeys they embarked on, the connections they forged, and the meals they shared would transform their lives, deepening their appreciation for the land, its people, their nation, and each other.

Aislyn: Wow, that was truly impressive! Let’s give a round of applause for that. Amazing job!

Baratunde: Good night, kids. Rest well.

Aislyn: How's that for a bedtime story? And it was completely off the cuff!

To discover more about Baratunde, visit baratunde.com. You can subscribe to his podcast, How to Citizen with Baratunde, on any platform you’re using right now. And don’t forget to catch America Outdoors online at PBS.org.

Excited for more Travel Tales? Head over to Dinogo.com/podcast, and don’t forget to follow us on Instagram and X. We’re @Dinogomedia. If you loved today’s adventure, we hope you’ll return for more captivating stories. Subscribing makes it easy! You can catch Travel Tales by Dinogo on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or your go-to podcast platform. And please rate and review the show—it helps fellow travelers discover us.

You’ve been listening to Travel Tales, brought to you by Dinogo Media. The podcast is created by Aislyn Greene and Nikki Galteland, with music composed and produced by Strike Audio.

Everyone has a travel tale to tell. What’s yours?