How Our Gear Expert Learned to Embrace Zinc Over Chemical Sunscreens

Legendary Jenny Lake climbing ranger, writer, professional gear tester, and all around fantastic human Molly Loomis offered me two great gifts on a springtime ski tour in the Tetons about a decade ago. First, a stick of opaque white zinc-based sunscreen to apply to my rapidly reddening nose. And second, a visceral description of what would happen to me if I didn't wear it. "We wouldn't want you getting baconface.”

I have used the term baconface dozens (maybe hundreds!) of times since Loomis gave me the gift and still find it a perfect way to describe an exponentially worse sunburn than we are used to. It is one of those terms that does not need much explaining and is cute, gross, and just a damned delight to say out loud.

Using the term baconface: amazing. Getting baconface: horrifying. I was reminded just how horrifying last March. I was on a trip to Silverton and Red Mountain Pass testing out a new kit from Patagonia skiing with a group of journalists, pro athletes, and winter sport content creators. The skiing was unreal and at the very top of my skill level, leaving me little bandwidth for me to think about sunscreen. By the time our guide called me out about the long-exposed skin on my nose, the damage had been done. I had baconface.

The brutal, shiny, throbbing burn I sustained on that trip turned into a nasty set of blisters that turned into open sores on my nose that took about two weeks to heal. I taught skiing on my home mountain in Ashland, OR with my face fully covered by a buff for the next few weeks in shame. I gave a fellow instructor a peek one morning: “That’s not bad, it only looks like you have mild nose-gangrene,” she told me.

Baconface, obviously, has a clear prevention: putting on plenty of sunscreen. You can certainly do this with traditional chemical sunscreens, but I’ve found you have to be pretty vigilant about regular reapplication. I cannot be the only person who gets so caught up in the fun I’m having outside that I forget to take a break to smear cream on my face.

This is why I am on a crusade to make the case for mineral sunscreen. I want to normalize the habit of absolutely smothering the most sensitive parts of your face in globs of bright white, color blocking zinc oxide and titanium dioxide-based products.

While it’s not necessarily true that mineral sunscreens work better than chemical sunscreens, they certainly work differently. You can think of zinc oxide and titanium dioxide as micro-scale shields that physically block and scatter UV. According to a 2021 study published in JAMA Dermatology, these then prevents the kind of DNA damage from the sun that sets the stage for skin cancer. In other words, painting your face with zinc is like giving your beak its own three-layer hardshell.

Once I got over being embarrassed about how it looked, I have found just absolutely painting my face in opaque sun protectant is liberating. On top of being super effective, it has a positive end of usefulness indicator. Unlike with chemical sunscreens, mineral sunscreens make it easy to keep track of when to re-apply. I follow a simple equation: does my face still look painted?

If the answer is yes: I know I am fine. If that answer is no: time to glob more on. No idiot baconface rafting trips for me, just rad pics of a confident 42-year-old dad and a nose that doesn’t scream skin cancer. I even got some 80s throwback neon colored Zinka that my kid and I paint up our faces with before and during adventures. It is cute as shit and doesn’t feel embarrassing or like a chore to wear.

I invite you all to join me on my zinc-nose summer. Let’s make this the year of excessive skin protection. Let’s not hide the fact that we are protecting ourselves from baconface. Let’s advertise with our brightly colored noses and cheeks that we love our skin and want to save our sweet faces from the sun.