The Great Outdoors (and Other Terrible Table Settings)

They say nature is humbling. Majestic. A place to reconnect with yourself. But they never mention how hard it is to balance a plate of nachos on a rock.

Out here, there are no tables, no napkins, no conveniently timed refills. There’s just you, the wind, and a rapidly cooling pile of cheese. The trees don’t care that the chips are soggy. The squirrels don’t respect personal space. And if you think jalapeños taste bold at home, try eating one at 7,000 feet with no water bottle in sight.

Still, there’s something honest about it. Every crumb feels earned. The salsa stains become badges of survival. You start to realize that nachos don’t need a kitchen — just courage, balance, and a good headlamp.

Because the truth is, the wilderness doesn’t judge. It doesn’t care how uneven your cheese layer is, or if you dropped half your chips down a slope. It just watches, silently, as you make the world’s most ill-advised snack and call it dinner.

That’s the beauty of it: no one to impress, no one to share, no rules — just nachos against the elements. And somehow, they taste better for it.