By Hannah Truby
From Reddit threads to Tibetan rituals in Tennessee, the Mountain Gazette contributor unravels the story behind the golden Buddhist tablets making their way around the world, sharing insights on adventure journalism, ethical reporting, and the creative projects that drive his work.
Mountain Gazette contributor and action-sports/environmental journalist Owen Clarke has a knack for chasing stories where adventure meets the uncanny. He is one of those rare journalists who seems to live three lives at once: a climber chasing ice and altitude, a writer whose work has appeared in nearly every adventure and travel outlet under the sun, and a freelancer trusted by the biggest brands in the outdoor world.
Clarke made his MG debut in issue 204 with “Golden Inscriptions,” one of those rare stories that proves truth can often outdo fiction.
In it, the Alabama-based journalist finds himself pulled into a mysterious global operation to move thousands of gold-etched Tibetan Buddhist tablets around the world, all tied to an ancient prophecy and funded by an anonymous billionaire. What begins as a simple inquiry unspools into a maze of faith, secrecy, ethical gray zones, and the modern urge to make meaning out of mystery.
Beyond his work in MG 204, Clarke is a regular contributor to Outside and Climbing, a contributing editor at Summit Journal, and editor-at-large for the adventure travel platform The Outdoor Voyage and its companion magazine, The Outdoor Journal. He also covers adventure motorcycling for Moto Camp Nerd, profiles classical musicians for the formal-wear brand Coregami, writes for The Action Sports Translator, and serves as the American Alpine Journal’s “Climbs and Expeditions” editor for Brazil and the African continent.
Clarke also runs his own writing collective and somehow still finds the bandwidth to craft a serialized dark-fantasy epic, Void Injection, on Substack.
This week, I sat down with Clarke to talk about the investigation, the spiritual rabbit holes, and what happens when a story refuses to stay on the page.
Hannah Truby: Let’s start with your story for MG 204. “Golden Inscriptions” reads like part travelogue, part mystery, and part spiritual investigation. What first drew you into this story? How did you find it, and why did you want to cover it?
Owen Clarke: I found it while trawling Reddit for stories. I think somebody in r/climbing had posted about finding one of those tablets. The post didn’t get much traction, but I came across it, and in the comments, people were debating a bit. The person who found it had taken it home from a cliff face, and some Buddhists commented, saying, “You shouldn’t have taken that; it should have stayed there.” There were a few other posts where similar things were happening.
I first wanted to cover it because, I mean, who wouldn’t? On a deeper level, there was a clear disconnect in the outdoor community about what’s acceptable in the wilderness. Like, if someone left a bunch of crosses lying around, we might think, “Oh, that’s whack, pick these up.” But because this was a Buddhist tablet, it seemed okay to leave it there. There was confusion. There’s a long history of people having issues with leaving things in the outdoors—like those monoliths in Utah that appeared and were then removed. Is putting it there wrong? Removing it wrong? Is it trash, art, or religious expression? Those questions were all interesting, and I wanted to explore them.
HT: So exploring what’s “okay” in the outdoors was intentional from the start?
OC: Yeah, that’s exactly what I wanted to explore. The story still has a lot of mystery. By the end, I don’t necessarily uncover all the hard facts. I tried to get at something more esoteric, ephemeral, or intangible. I didn’t focus on who the billionaire was; I wanted to investigate it from an ethical rather than a literal standpoint.
HT: On that note, without giving too much away, what did you personally take away from the story?
OC: The big finale for me was meeting the Rinpoche [a spiritual leader of the group placing the tablets] at a farm in Tennessee. I spent several days in meditation and immersed myself in the Tibetan Nyingma Buddhist experience. At the end, I had a very intimate audience with him, and that’s when the takeaway came.
I expected a lot of reverence around the tablets from the American Buddhists involved. They said, “This is holy, treat it with peace,” and I took it seriously. But when I talked to the Rinpoche, he said, “I don’t really know who’s making these. If you want to break it open, that’s fine. If you want to throw it in the trash, that’s fine.” He didn’t really care but still thought they had worth and value. There was a dichotomy: He didn’t treat them with specific reverence, but still thought they mattered. After that, I realized maybe I was asking too many questions.
The takeaway came from the quote I used at the end of the piece from Siddhartha: “The enemy of knowing is the desire to know.” You can dig as deep as you want, but you might end up missing the point.
HT: You describe yourself as an adventure journalist. Break that down for us: What does it mean, how did you get here, and what does that label mean to you today?
OC: I wanted to be a writer since I was a kid. I wrote fiction, mostly fantasy. I’ve always been into the outdoors—rock climbing since age 11, backpacking throughout childhood. I grew up in Alabama, moved around a lot, and read Rock & Ice and Outside religiously.
In college, I got lucky with a few writing contests and ended up as a summer intern at Rock & Ice. By the time I graduated, I had published and pitched to several titles. I went full-time after that. I’m 28 now and have been doing this for about seven years.
As far as “adventure journalist,” sometimes I think that sounds kind of corny. I mainly cover adventure sports, primarily climbing and motorcycling, but I’ve done a lot of Gonzo-style stories—going in firsthand rather than reporting from afar. The label also helps position myself in a niche: small enough to show expertise but broad enough to get work.
HT: On Instagram, you joked about writing some “heinous stuff for money” while also doing passion projects. Do you feel you sometimes have to “sell your soul” to pay the bills?
OC: [Laughs] Ah, dude, I sell my soul every day. Well, that sounds too harsh. But I’m 28—I’m not at a point where I feel really secure. And every time I start to feel that way, something new happens in the ecosystem. I’ve had AI take a lot of work from me, since I used to make a good amount doing content writing as well. So I’ve never really felt stable or like I’ve “made it.”
HT: Definitely. If you're trying to make a full-time living as a writer, especially as a freelancer, you’re always hustling.
OC: Yeah. Most of the stuff I write involves making a sacrifice in some way. But with Mountain Gazette, with this piece, I didn’t feel like I had to do that. I got pretty much the story I wanted to write. You don’t always have to sell your soul.
That’s what’s cool about print journalism—the timelines are longer, and you don’t have to sell the story with a clickbait headline. Subscribers will get the story as it is. With digital journalism, you often have to sell the story first—think headlines, decks, inducing clicks.
HT: I saw you run a Substack, Void Injection, and a writing collective. What do those platforms offer you as a writer?
OC: I have two projects like that: Void Injection and Deadfoot Collective. Deadfoot Collective, which I started four and a half years ago, is a writing collective—a workshop for emerging and established writers. Void Injection is fiction, a serialized dark fantasy story I’ve been writing for about a year. It’s fun and totally different from my other work. Both take up time and make less money than I would otherwise, but they’re incredibly fulfilling.
HT: Are there themes you return to again and again in your work?
OC: I like to write about the environment and human interaction with it—not just “people doing badass stuff,” but the impact we have on nature. I want to write more about conservation and mitigating climate change. That’s partly why this story interested me—people leaving things behind in nature. Some readers might see it as “people throwing crap in the woods all over the world,” but that’s the common thread in my work.
HT: Any subjects you’d like to cover that you haven’t yet?
OC: I’d like to write more about endangered species, habitat loss, and the illegal wildlife trade. When I wanted to get into journalism as a kid, I was fired up about exposés and investigations, like stories for Greenpeace. I love writing about climbing and adventure, but we’re kind of in a post-adventure world—most “first-of-its-kind” feats have already been done. What we really need to focus on is saving the planet and protecting the wilderness we adventure in. I want to cover people trying to make a bigger difference.
HT: What’s next for you—any new projects or stories?
OC: I have something I’m really excited about, but I can’t share it yet. One thing I can talk about is Void Injection. I have an illustrator who creates a fantasy illustration for every chapter, and it accompanies the writing. That project is what I’m most excited about right now.
Catch Clarke’s story in Mountain Gazette 204—limited copies remain!—and follow his adventures on Instagram at @opops13.
