Who Am I…

My life has been shaped by the outdoors for as long as I can remember. What began as weekend backpacking trips with my dad eventually turned into month long thru-hiking expeditions. Slowly, my definition of adventure changed. The escape that the outdoors offered me eventually evolved into more than a passion, simply put, it became my way of existing.

Growing up, my parents had a palpable love for the outdoors. I saw their desire to spend time outside and it became impossible for me to not feel the same. From a young age, I developed a fascination for the mountains, driven by a need to understand the stories I had been hearing from my dad. The adventure he described felt untouchable. I would never have believed that, thirty years later, I would learn to mountaineer on the same glacier that he had. Adventure became a way to connect with not only myself, but the people most important in my life.

As a family, we spent our summer vacations road-tripping around BC. I couldn’t tell you every place we visited, what I can tell you is, these trips gave me an appreciation for the simpleness of the outdoors. As we got older, my parents began looking for ways to keep my brother and I entertained. They found, what I can only imagine to be, incentives that made spending weeks away from home more appealing (spoiler alert: it worked). That’s when I got my first ‘real’ taste of adventure. At the time, rafting felt like the scariest thing I could possibly do.

Adventure remained a piece of my time that was fit in whenever my ‘normal’ life wasn’t so busy. The first sixteen years of my life were entirely consumed by sports. I discovered all too quickly that competitive sports were not something I was cut out for. I believed that these activities were what gave me my identity, all of which were brought to a screeching halt in 2020. At first this felt like a temporary setback, something I would return from like nothing had changed at all. What should have been three months of lockdown, turned into a year long rut, which I was unable to pull myself from. Slowly, I dropped each of those activities that I had attached so much of my self value to. I was left wondering what and when I would find something that could provide me with that kind of belonging again.

I have spent more time than I would like to admit debating on whether or not I feel ready to share that part of my story, which landed me where I am today. While I couldn’t be happier with where that path has taken me, it hasn’t exactly been a smooth journey. I’ve never wanted mental health to be a defining factor of mine. I don’t look at it as a weakness, or something to be ashamed of but, it is a hard piece of myself to share.

That brings us to where the real story beings: enrolling in my high schools Outdoor Exploration program. Like a typical teenager, I was initially drawn to the idea of an adventure program for the sake of spending time with my friends, along with the added bonus of the outdoors being our classroom. It didn’t take long for me to realize how little I wanted to be stuck sitting at a desk. Eventually, I began to let go of the belief that going to post-secondary was the only way to “make something of myself”. Throughout my two years in this program, I was introduced into the world of adventure guiding in a way I had never experienced before.

I vividly remember my first multi-day backpacking trip on Northern Vancouver Island. It rained for the entire five days (our feet had become prunes) and by the end, all I could think about was wanting to stay out there for just a few more nights. How was I supposed to go back to school after a trip like that?!

I had become comfortable with the familiarity of adventure. The thought that there may be more out there for me to achieve felt impossible. It was my instructor, without whom I would have never dreamed of being where I am today, that began nudging me towards that possibility. My anxiety ran wild at the idea of taking on something unknown. I would have done anything to avoid feeling like I was out of place. I chose to listen to the confidence of others rather than my own self-doubt. That decision led me to the ROAMS (rivers, oceans and mountains school) program, which became the catalyst in my obsession with the world of adventure, and eventually, guiding.

Through the ROAMS program, I began to feel the sense of independence that I had been chasing in the outdoors. Having instructors who believed in my ability allowed me to push myself in ways that I wouldn’t have otherwise. My first glimpse into the world of sea kayaking came towards the end of that program, when I achieved my day guiding certification. As a seventeen year old, this felt like a huge accomplishment. Suddenly, I felt like I had something to look forward to after high school graduation. The following summer I started my first guiding job on the north end of Vancouver Island. That was just the first step in creating the life that I am still living.

Having just spent a summer on the water, experiencing the freedom of sea kayak guiding, I knew my gap year had to hold some sort of adventure (my eye had been set on a university program that required me to take a year break). Through a very unserious suggestion made by my dad, I learned about the Pacific Crest Trail… and that seemed like a significant enough challenge for me to take on.

I spent five months prepping in every way possible for a solo four month thru-hike, having no idea what that meant at the time. The desire for me to take on a challenge as big as the Pacific Crest Trail came from a desire to prove to myself that I was capable of doing hard things. I didn’t want someone else there to pull me along. This needed to be something I did entirely on my own (sorry, mom and dad). At that point in my life I had never even spent a single night alone in the backcountry, let alone four months but for some reason I knew it was something that I needed to take on.

Yes, stepping foot on trail for the first time was every bit as overwhelming as you may expect. And no, it was nothing like what you saw in the movie “Wild”. This was, by far, the most challenging endeavour that I had ever taken on. I adjusted to the physical discomfort fairly quickly (even the plantar fasciitis and golf ball sized blisters). What was harder to get used to was the amount of time I spent alone. While I found a community of hikers early on, I was determined to hike the trail the way I had set out to. In the end, I completed around 700 miles of the trail (the desert section) before my hike came to a very abrupt end.

I had made the decision to backtrack and complete a section of trail that had previously been too snow covered to complete. While hanging out in a Greyhound bus station, a gun was pulled and everyone inside ended up on the floor. At that point I decided that I no longer felt safe, nor did I have the interest, in being a solo female in the states.

From the beginning, I promised myself that I would be proud of whatever I got out my PCT hike, no matter how many miles I completed. There were so many moments that proved this was a worthwhile experience; more than I could possibly include in a single blog. I’m not someone that often cries happy tears however, this trail got me more than once. I felt gratitude in a capacity I didn’t know was possible. As hard as it was saying goodbye to the PCT, I knew that my next adventure would be even better…

Choosing to study in the Adventure Guide program was the easiest decision I’ve made. If there’s one thing I have learned about myself in the first twenty years of life, it’s that I love being outside more than anything else. Becoming a guide was a no-brainer. While I still (sometimes) struggle to call it a university program, due to the fact that class revolves around playing outside, the experience it offers completely changed how I approach adventure. It took a lot of time to get to the place i’m at but now that I am here, there Is nothing I would change.

I have let my anxiety win far too many times in my life and I am finally starting to understand that discomfort usually means something is worth doing. What I love most about this life I have chosen is the freedom; the ability to start a new adventure every six months. And believe me, as I write this, I’m almost definitely dreaming up what’s next.