The Unpacked Self

Beyond Fear, My Journey Through Southeast Asia

When I booked my trip to Southeast Asia, I thought I was chasing adventure. What I didn’t realize was that I was also chasing a new version of myself, one that I hadn’t yet met. I had always been scared of change, of stepping outside what I knew, but Thailand and Vietnam showed me that change is where life actually begins.

In Thailand, I found myself clinging to limestone cliffs that towered over the turquoise ocean, my hands chalky and trembling as I climbed higher than I ever thought I could. The fear was real, but so was the exhilaration. Every move upward was like a quiet lesson: trust yourself, breathe, and keep going. Soon after, I traded those cliffs for motorcycles, winding my way through famous roads that seemed to twist endlessly into the horizon. The freedom of the open road was intoxicating, the kind of thrill that silences every doubt. At night, I returned to hostels, my first time ever staying in them, where strangers became family, and conversations stretched late into the night.

Christmas came in a way I never expected: quiet moments spent with monks in Thailand. Instead of the usual holiday rush, I was surrounded by a calm so profound it shifted something inside me. Their presence reminded me that joy doesn’t always need to be loud. Sometimes it’s found in simplicity, in stillness, in being grateful just to exist in the moment.

Vietnam greeted me with chaos and beauty all at once. I learned quickly that sleeper buses wait for no one, almost being left behind was a lesson in both panic and laughter. But the real heart of my journey came on the Ha Giang Loop, a motorbike route through the mountains of northern Vietnam. The landscapes there were almost unreal: jagged cliffs, mist-covered valleys, endless skies that made me feel both small and infinite. Yet the most powerful part wasn’t the scenery, but the people. I stayed in poor communities where life was simple but heavy with the memory of the Vietnamese War. It wasn’t history written in textbooks anymore, it was history alive in the resilience of families, in stories passed down, in the quiet dignity of people who had endured so much and still welcomed me like family.

That experience opened my eyes to realities I had never truly considered. It was humbling, it was raw, and it was exactly what I needed. For so long, I had avoided stepping outside my comfort zone, convinced that change was something to fear. But this trip taught me that change is not the enemy, it’s the path. It’s where growth lives.

Southeast Asia was more than just rock climbing, motorcycles, monks, and mountain roads. It was a journey into the unknown parts of myself. It showed me that fear doesn’t mean stop; it means step forward. It showed me that growth comes when you are vulnerable, when you trust strangers, when you allow the world to surprise you.

I came home different. Not because the world changed, but because I did. And now I know: on the other side of fear is freedom, and on the other side of the world, I found myself.

Women in the Outdoor Industry Redefining Strength

Being a woman in the outdoor industry means walking into spaces where you’re often underestimated before you even start. People don’t picture a female raft guide running whitewater rapids, teaching ski lessons in the ski industry, hauling gear, or out climbing male colleagues. For too long, the unspoken rule has been that women must shrink down to fit in. But I’ve learned something powerful, I don’t need to change who I am to belong here. I can show up fully as myself, unapologetically, and thrive.

When I first started training as a raft guide, the strength difference between me and my male peers was obvious. They had raw power that seemed to make the job easier rowing, lifting, maneuvering through raging currents. At first, I doubted myself. But then I learned a secret: strength isn’t everything. Technique, timing, and working with the river mattered more. Once I mastered the strokes and trusted my skills, I realized I didn’t just keep up, I could outperform. That’s the magic of the outdoor adventure industry: it rewards resilience as much as muscle.

The doubts from others, though, never really disappeared. Men often assumed I couldn’t carry the back of the boat or haul heavy frames. In skiing, too, I’ve faced the same skepticism: side-eyes when I carried gear, or surprise when I carved down challenging runs. The assumption was always the same, that women couldn’t handle the toughest jobs in the ski industry. But every time I rowed a rapid clean or lifted gear without hesitation, I proved that femininity and capability can and do exist together.

What’s made the biggest difference is the community of strong women I’ve found. In both guiding and skiing, we lean on each other, celebrate each other’s wins, and push one another to new heights. This sisterhood is what makes the outdoor industry so empowering, it’s not about shrinking to fit in, but expanding what’s possible for all women who come after us.

The truth is that toughness isn’t about pretending to be someone you’re not. It isn’t about hiding femininity to gain respect. It’s about rewriting what power looks like. For me, that means running rapids, skiing hard, teaching others, and carrying gear, yes, even in a dress.

Being a woman in the outdoor industry isn’t about matching men, it’s about reshaping the narrative. It’s about showing that you can be strong, skilled, feminine, and unapologetically yourself in wild, rugged places.

Because real empowerment comes not from shrinking, but from standing tall, fully yourself, fully present, and fully capable.