Age: 6 Breed: Boxer/Lab Favorite Snack: Marrow Bones Pet Peeves: Don’t you dare blow in her face / Nerf Gun fights—she is a lover not a fighter Favorite part of being at NEMO: Barking at everyone who enters, protecting the team First thing people notice: Her wagging tail and her bark Best known for: always wanting to play with every passerby Greatest Fears: Horseshoe Crabs Favorite command to disobey: Come means stop / STOP BARKING Best day scenario: A day of long walks at the ocean with swimming and lots of ball throwing! Aspirations: She has already reached Nirvana for a dog… Naughtiest Moment: Rolling in that awful dead thing at the beach and then eating it…. GROSS. [Editor's Note: A close second might be eating dirty tissues out of NEMO trash during flu season]
Special for our Shield line, we’re planning to release some Multicam Ditto wallets imminently. A sample just arrived at our office and it is pretty slick. Notice in the last picture, the Hypalon grip tab underneath the NEMO label; it may not seem worth mentioning, but this little detail makes it easier to open the strap and also preserves the integrity of the embroidered woven label. Small details can make a big difference.
Aaron Chervenak and Gareth Jones are making a 9000 km journey across Brazil. When your guide who has been hired to get you to the start of your journey says “Nao aguento mais”—meaning, “I cannot take it anymore”, that’s when you know you’re on a real adventure.
This time of the year in Vermont at Bromley Mountain, the mornings are frozen, fast, hard, and unforgiving.
There’s just enough time in the pre-coffee early hours of Sunday morning to get in one run before the day gets going. But even in the haze of dawn, the view and the easy conversations on the way down never gets old.
In the 5 or so years that we’ve adopted the north end of Jenness Beach for cleanup, we’ve gotten used to the trash cycles that change with the seasons. Summers tend to be heavy with beer cans & bottles, coffee cups, and cigarette butts. The Nor’easter storms in the winter/shoulder seasons tend to bring ocean debris.
Our March cleanup showed us that we are clearly still in winter season. We picked up 75 lbs of rope, broken bits of lobster traps, and swamped buoys.
We always manage to find one keeper or two to bring back home. This time, Tina was the big winner when she stumbled upon an awesomely beautiful scallop shell. Next cleanup is planned for end of April, so please let us know if you’d like to join us!
Artist / Illustrator / Author Christoph Niemann wrote a elegant piece in a recent New Yorker on simplicity in design. Nevermind that he was talking about the story of designing his strangely addictive app Petting Zoo; it’s a universal lesson that we all struggle with. His words are best read by clicking on the link, but if you can’t bear to click away, this is the crux of it:
As an artist you have to try new things. You have to experiment, and not care about whether the new things actually make sense. You can sketch and plan all you want. But, to discover new territory, you have to get your hands dirty and benefit from the flaws and accidents. Eventually, however, you may arrive at a point where even well-meaning minds won’t be able to get your idea, let alone realize that there even is an idea to be gotten in the first place.
That’s where you have to bring out the ruthless editor in you, who takes that idea and cuts it down…to its core.
Simplicity is not about making something without ornament, but rather about making something very complex, then slicing elements away, until you reveal the very essence. After all the slicing away, you may realize, now that you can clearly see the idea, that it’s actually not very good.
That’s the hardest part: letting go of an idea that, having spent a number of passionate nights with, you have fallen in love with. Even with a certain amount of routine, this letting go sadly doesn’t become easier. The natural instinct then is to rely on what you know is working. It’s unfair, but this is the surest path to boring and predictable results.
The painful and inevitable struggle remains to create in a childlike and openhearted manner, but to be un-wistful and cruel when judging one’s creation.
We have dozens and dozens of products that have gone through this internal struggle. Some emerge from this wash cycle as cleaner, simpler, and better. Others, once scrubbed, are still just not very good. We’ll never be boring and predictable, but that means it’s even more important to be able to let go of ideas that aren’t very good.
Anchoring the corner of our NEMO design space is a 12 foot high rotating shelf, filled with oddities, curiosities, and design inspiration. Although it might look like an overgrown junk drawer, don’t be deceived by its appearance.
It’s not just “stuff”, because “stuff” can disappear without any one noticing (or caring).
Every single thing on these shelves has sparked some tiny sliver of an idea, or inspiration in aesthetic, texture, form, color, function, and even delight. And in a way, this is where so many seeds of NEMO products are first planted.
Some of our favorites? For starters, there’s a 10 foot pole that can roll up to fit in your pocket. The eponymous Hoberman sphere. Magnets of silly strength. The organics section we especially love—bolstered by the amazing moose shed that Cam (NEMO’s founder and CEO) stumbled upon a couple years ago.
There’s been lots of talk in the last week about risk taking and what kind of role it should play in adventures. Check out this piece in the NYTimes, followed by Steve Casimiro’s response in Adventure Journal.
Steve’s message is hits the bullseye. If you can’t bear to read anything more than a paragraph, here’s the takeaway:
I don’t know if this is maturity or prudence or simply experience. All of the above, maybe. The big difference between the me on Whitney Gilman and the me today is that I’ve learned that risk can be managed. Not all of it, or it wouldn’t be an adventure. But it’s also not as black and white as the Times or others suggest, where you’re either likely to die doing something you love or you simply don’t do that thing you love. That big grey area in the middle is where you find adventure, where you find risk, and where, to me, the best of life begins.
We’ve been supporting Long Treks on Skate Decks for a few years now, from their trips through Peru/Bolivia to Morocco. The latest journey in a skate through China from Qinghai, Xining to Sichuan, Chengdu.
Unlike the previous trips, Adam Colton completes his journey here solo. And it is not an easy trip. Between the big trucks, constant honking of car horns, no sleeping pad (his choice, not ours), freezing temperatures, dirt roads, and high elevation, we were glad to see Adam come back in one piece:
Adam’s key to surviving the mental and physical exhaustion? Read on:
For me, the key to distance skating is not realizing you’re distance skating, go figure. It helps to not be aware that you are pushing a not so efficient plank of wood walking speed with a backpack on up a very large mountain with cars buzzing close to you. Why not be distracted with more lovely thoughts such as your girlfriend, why you were such a crazy person in high school, or dreaming about some made up family and how you would raise kids. Problem was daydreaming for a long period of time did not happen because I was always struck out of it with a horn blaring in my ear.
We have so much potential and options here in the USA. For most of us in the US we can pick and choose to rough it and survive in the wilderness on a camping trip, get cold, and then come back home to a warm place. I can go on the internet and arrange a whole trip, flight, and accommodations in a far off place like France. I have mountain biking trails at my disposal all around me. Even though we live in a very complex time with lots of gadgets and distractions, we can still pick and choose our way through it all. I was here in China roughing it with the people surviving in their harsh environment but the whole time I had the option of leaving; I was going to leave. The families I saw in China did not have this option really. This was their life and it was fine and they were happy, working together as a family unit surviving, but I feel very fortunate to have a life with so many options and opportunities.