Reflecting on 25 years of Adventure Sports Journal and the community that will shape its future
Reaching this twenty-five-year mark has made me think differently about seasons — not just the seasons of the year, but the seasons of a life, a family, a community, and a publication. When Adventure Sports Journal began, I could not have imagined all the seasons it would move through, or all the ways I would change alongside it.
Motherhood has taught me, more than anything, that no season arrives exactly as expected. Some begin quietly and uncertainly. Others gather force slowly and then all at once. This past winter in California offered a reminder of that. For weeks the mountains sat under unusually dry skies, the snowpack thin and uncertain. Then, almost all at once, the storms arrived. The mountains received more than anyone expected. Beauty and power returned to the landscape — but not without consequence. Lives were lost, including members of the outdoor community who called these mountains home.
Seasons rarely unfold the way we imagine they will. 
A long-lived magazine has seasons too. There are seasons of growth, seasons of strain, seasons when everything feels full of momentum, and seasons when you are asked simply to keep going — to keep tending something you believe still matters. Looking back over twenty-five years of Adventure Sports Journal, I find myself thinking less about milestones than about endurance: about the people who have shaped these pages, the community that has sustained them, and the reasons we have continued.
Over those years, the culture around us has changed in ways both exciting and unsettling. Media has changed. Attention has changed. The ways people gather, share stories, and support one another have changed. Even so, communities are not sustained by algorithms alone. They are sustained by the local businesses, organizations, and individuals willing to invest in something closer to home. That is part of why I still believe there is real value in a publication rooted in place, community, and the slower work of paying attention.
Adventure Sports Journal has never only been about athletes or achievements, though those matter. Nor has it been only about the most extreme expressions of outdoor life. At its heart, it has always been about something larger: the California outdoor community in all its forms — writers, photographers, readers, shop owners, organizers, artists, guides, racers, families, and friends. Just as importantly, it has been a place to welcome people in — to spark curiosity, to widen access, and to remind us that a meaningful life outdoors is not reserved for the fastest, the fittest, the most experienced, or the most visibly “outdoorsy.” It belongs to people of every background, every identity, every body, and every level of participation — to anyone who feels called to step outside and find connection there.
Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of watching that circle widen. Some of the young adventurers who first appeared in these pages decades ago are now raising children of their own. Small gear companies have become established brands. Trails have been built, restored, and ridden thousands of times over. Friendships have formed in parking lots, at trailheads, in surf lineups, and along dusty race courses across the state.
If these twenty-five years have taught me anything, it is that no season stays the same for long. We do not always get to choose what arrives. But we do choose what we keep tending.
For me, Adventure Sports Journal has been one of those things.
Through many seasons it has remained a place to honor the stories, people, and landscapes that continue to shape outdoor life in California. I am grateful to everyone who has helped carry it this far, and to everyone who still believes it is worth carrying forward.
But twenty-five years in, I don’t see this moment as the end of something. I see it as the beginning of the next season.
Independent voices matter now more than ever. Publications rooted in real places and real communities matter. And the future of Adventure Sports Journal will depend, as it always has, on the people who believe in it.
If ASJ has meant something to you over the years, I invite you to help shape what comes next. Become a member. Support the businesses that advertise in these pages. Share the magazine with friends. Send us your ideas, your stories, your feedback. Tell us what you want to see more of, and how this publication can better serve the California outdoor community.
A magazine like this has never been the work of one person alone. It lives because a community chooses to support it.
My hope is that this next season is not only about continuing ASJ, but about growing it into something even stronger — together.
The next season of Adventure Sports Journal is still being written.
— Cathy Claesson
cathy@adventuresportsjournal.com
