The Significance of Actually Reusing and Recycling Outdoor Gear

This article is part of Unpacked, a series addressing significant questions about responsible travel. Discover more columns on the Unpacked homepage—and don’t forget to subscribe to the podcast.

One positive outcome from recent years is that the pandemic inspired many to explore new locations and find fresh ways to recharge. Spending time outdoors invites us to delve into personal interests, learn about the local flora and fauna, and enhance our bond with nature. To do this effectively, we must act as responsible stewards of these environments: sticking to designated paths, reducing waste, and respecting wildlife.

However, addressing the swift decline of our planet requires more than just immediate actions. We must also work to reduce our carbon footprint to combat the escalating impacts of climate change. This includes our outdoor gear.

Think about this: Plastics derived from petroleum can take over a century to break down. Materials are often bleached, dyed, and treated with chemicals to create the stylish colors we want. When discarded, these products can release harmful chemicals into local groundwater. Some items end up in incinerators, which emit toxins into the atmosphere, damaging ecosystems and contributing to greenhouse gas emissions. Producing a single cotton T-shirt requires more than 650 gallons of water. Therefore, reusing fabrics and recycling other materials conserves essential resources.

As an avid gear enthusiast, I often feel the lure of new products. But before I reach for my debit card, I pause to reflect on a few questions.

Will this purchase enhance the safety of my upcoming adventures or improve my comfort— or am I simply drawn to it because it looks appealing? Camping in the backcountry presents challenges, and getting proper rest is vital for making sound decisions far from help. If I find a product that could improve my sleep quality, I’m likely to give it a try.

Is there a way to test this gear before making a purchase? My local outdoor shop, like many, offers rentals to assess functionality, durability, and overall value before committing to what can be a significant and untested investment. I also utilize this option during West Coast camping trips, renting everything I need instead of shipping gear or buying upon arrival.

I invest in the best gear I can afford and make an effort to care for it, extending its lifespan. I steer clear of fabric softeners, which coat fibers with waxy chemicals that clog membranes and ruin moisture-wicking properties. I ensure my tent is dry to prevent mold and clear away dirt and debris to avoid fabric damage. I treat my rain gear with Nikwax TX Direct Spray-On Water-Repellent Treatment when its effectiveness begins to fade. After each adventure, I thoroughly clean my gear to prevent dirt buildup and odors. This is my way of curbing waste—think of it as a reverse supply chain—before it starts.

Tears, broken valves, and typical wear and tear are inevitable. When I spot rips or worn areas, I do my best to repair them with sewing, duct tape, or products like Noso Gear Repair Patches and Gear Aid Tenacious Tape. Brands like Patagonia provide a DIY repair guide. Another excellent resource for extending the life of gear are repair cafés and community repair events, where enthusiasts gather monthly to share skills and restore items together at no cost for labor, diverting valuable resources from landfills. If these options seem daunting, it’s perfectly fine to take or send your gear to skilled repair shops specializing in technical apparel and outdoor equipment.

If an item is beyond repair, I check the manufacturer’s warranty for coverage. Even if the warranty doesn’t apply, I reach out to customer service to explore possible restoration options.

Normal wear and tear leads to most of my clothing replacements. I strive to avoid fast-fashion brands, which can be challenging as a plus-sized woman. When possible, I seek out moisture-wicking clothing made from eco-friendly alternatives like hemp, lyocell, and bamboo. For winter gear, I prioritize items with Responsible Down Standard and Responsible Wool Standard certifications, as these indicate the welfare standards of the animals involved. I also pay attention to third-party certifications such as Climate Neutral Certified, Fair Trade Certified, Rainforest Alliance Certified, and Bluesign Approved. These labels suggest that the company is considering environmental impacts during production and is replacing harmful practices with safer options. It takes some research to ensure a brand isn't using misleading buzzwords to appear more socially or environmentally responsible, but a little digging often clears things up.

Despite thorough research, some purchases don’t pan out. If a sleeping bag fits too snugly or a cook set is unwieldy, I return it. Shopping at stores with generous return policies (like REI) allows me to get store credit and try products that might better suit my needs. I’m cautious about final sale items: while they may seem like great deals, a too-small puffy jacket collecting dust in my closet isn’t the bargain I thought it was. Some stores now offer trade-ins for old gear, providing cash or store credit, which is a fantastic way to upgrade while keeping items out of landfills.

Sometimes, a beloved piece of gear is released in a new color, and I just have to have it bad. When I add something new but redundant, I follow the “one in, one out” rule. For every new item I purchase, one has to go. Instead of tossing it, I usually donate to centers serving LGBTQ+ youth (who face homelessness at more than twice the rate of their peers) or local organizations that promote outdoor access for historically marginalized communities.

Safety is paramount for me, so I don’t skimp on a few essentials: I always keep a second bag packed with the 10 essentials in my trunk for spontaneous hikes, and I stash a spare headlamp in my car console for unexpected nighttime adventures. I also don’t hold onto climbing ropes or gear with dents or major cracks—no commitment to sustainability is worth risking an accident or a life.

Ultimately, being genuinely environmentally conscious means being mindful and questioning both ourselves and the companies we support with our purchases. The outcome of this mindfulness is that the environment we cherish for its inspiration remains intact for future generations to enjoy.