The Unpacked Self

Finding Community in the Grand Canyon

When I launched onto the Colorado River in February, I barely knew most of the people on my trip.

Twenty-six days, 280 miles, and countless rapids later, I couldn’t imagine my life without them.

The Grand Canyon has a way of stripping life down to what really matters. There is no cell service, no packed schedule, no distractions. Just the river, the canyon walls towering above you, and the people beside you. Day after day, you wake up together, rig boats together, row together, cook together, and sit around the fire together. Somewhere between the early mornings and the star filled nights, strangers become family.

Going into the trip, I was nervous. Not just because of the size of the Canyon or the miles ahead of us, but because I was the only woman rowing a boat. There is something intimidating about stepping into a role where you don’t see many people who look like you. It’s easy to wonder if you’re strong enough, capable enough, or experienced enough.

But the river doesn’t care.

The Colorado doesn’t care if you’re a man or a woman. It doesn’t care how old you are or where you came from. It only asks that you show up, pay attention, and keep learning.

Every day on the river challenged me. Some days I felt confident pulling hard through rapids. Other days I felt completely humbled. I learned to trust my instincts, make decisions under pressure, and believe in my abilities even when I wasn’t sure of myself. The river taught me that confidence isn’t something you have before you try something hard. Confidence comes from doing hard things and realizing you’re capable of more than you thought.

What surprised me most wasn’t the rowing, though.

It was the community.

I’ve spent years in the outdoor industry, and one thing I’ve learned is that adventure is never really about the destination. It’s about the people. Somewhere between sharing meals on sandy beaches, laughing through cold February mornings, and helping each other through challenges, this group of people became one of the strongest communities I’ve ever been a part of.

Everyone showed up for each other. When someone had a hard day, there was always encouragement. When someone wanted to try something new, there was always support. There was no competition, only shared stoke. The kind of stoke that comes from watching someone run a rapid they’re nervous about, nail a new skill, or accomplish something they didn’t think they could do.

That energy is contagious.

By the end of the trip, I wasn’t the same person who launched at Lees Ferry. I was stronger, not just physically, but mentally. I was more confident in my ability to tackle challenges and more willing to step into spaces that feel uncomfortable. Most importantly, I was reminded that some of the best things in life happen when you say yes before you feel ready.

The Grand Canyon gave me incredible rapids, breathtaking views, and memories I’ll carry forever. But the thing I’m most grateful for is the people.

Twenty-six days earlier, they were strangers.

Now they’re family.

And somewhere along those 280 miles, I found a stronger version of myself too.

Women in the Outdoor Industry, Redefining Strength

Some of the most impactful experiences of my life have come from saying yes to things that scared me.

Whether it was becoming a raft guide, learning to climb, traveling solo through Southeast Asia, or pushing myself into completely unfamiliar situations, I’ve learned that growth rarely happens when you’re comfortable. The moments that have shaped me the most have almost always started with uncertainty and a willingness to try anyway.

As a woman in the outdoor industry, I’ve often found myself in spaces where people didn’t expect me to be. I’ve gotten the surprised looks when I show up to guide a raft trip, carry heavy gear, or tackle a challenging climb. Early on, it was easy to feel like I needed to prove that I belonged.

When I first started guiding, I noticed the obvious differences between myself and some of the male guides around me. They were stronger, could carry more gear, and seemed naturally built for the job. For a while, I thought that’s what made someone a great guide. But over time, the river taught me otherwise.

The best guides aren’t always the strongest people on the water.

They’re the ones who stay calm when things don’t go according to plan. They’re the ones who can read the river, anticipate what’s coming, adapt quickly, communicate clearly, and take care of the people in their boat. Guiding taught me that leadership isn’t about brute strength; it’s about awareness, adaptability, confidence, and trust.

In many ways, reading water isn’t that different from reading people. Both require patience, observation, and the ability to adjust when things change. Some of the best guides I’ve worked with are women because they bring those skills naturally. They know how to connect with guests, build trust, stay composed under pressure, and create an environment where people feel safe, confident, and capable.

Climbing reinforced those same lessons. Every route starts with uncertainty. You stand at the bottom looking up, wondering if you can do it. Then you take one move, then another, and before you know it, you’ve accomplished something you weren’t sure was possible. Climbing taught me to trust myself, embrace challenges, and stop letting fear make decisions for me.

But more than the adventures themselves, what has impacted me most is the community.

One of the greatest gifts the outdoor industry has given me is the opportunity to be surrounded by strong, supportive women. Women who work hard, lead confidently, push boundaries, and still find time to encourage the people around them. Women who celebrate each other’s successes, share knowledge freely, and remind one another that we are capable of far more than we think.

I’ve been lucky enough to learn from women who taught me how to row better, climb harder, trust myself more, and take up space without apologizing for it. They’ve shown me that confidence isn’t something you’re born with, it’s something you build through experience, failure, perseverance, and support from the people around you.

Those relationships have been just as meaningful as any summit, river trip, or adventure. They’ve taught me that real strength isn’t about doing everything alone. It’s about being willing to learn from others, lean on your community when you need it, and help lift up the people around you along the way.

The outdoor industry has taught me that there are many ways to be strong. Sometimes strength looks like carrying a heavy frame or rowing through a difficult rapid. Other times it looks like staying calm when everyone else is stressed, encouraging someone who lacks confidence, or stepping into a challenge before you feel completely ready.

That’s what I love most about the outdoors. It constantly pushes me to grow, introduces me to incredible people, and reminds me that some of the best things in life happen when you’re willing to take a chance on yourself.

Every river, climb, and adventure has taught me something new, but the lesson that has stayed with me most is simple: you don’t have to fit someone else’s idea of what strength looks like to belong. You just have to be willing to show up, keep learning, and embrace the challenges that help you become the person you’re meant to be.

My Journey Through Southeast Asia

When I booked my trip to Southeast Asia, I thought I was just signing up for an adventure. In reality, I was signing up for one of the most transformative experiences of my life.

Growing up, I was always a planner. I liked knowing what came next and having some sense of control over where I was headed. Traveling halfway across the world completely flipped that on its head. Suddenly I was navigating countries where I didn’t speak the language, sleeping in hostels with strangers, hopping on buses I wasn’t entirely sure were going to the right place, and figuring things out as I went.

And honestly? I loved it.

Thailand and Vietnam pushed me outside my comfort zone in the best way possible. One day I was rock climbing above the ocean, the next I was riding motorcycles through mountains, spending Christmas with monks, or sharing meals with people from completely different backgrounds than my own. Every day felt like a reminder that the world is so much bigger than the little bubble we sometimes live in.

What stuck with me most wasn’t the places I saw, it was the people I met.

Some of my favorite memories came from sitting around hostel tables talking for hours with people I’d met that same day. I learned that meaningful connections don’t take years to build. Sometimes all it takes is being open, curious, and willing to put yourself out there.

The trip also taught me how important it is to lean on other people. Whether it was asking for directions, navigating a new city, or simply finding community in unfamiliar places, I learned that you don’t have to do everything alone. In fact, some of the best experiences happen when you’re willing to trust people and let them be part of your story.

Spending time in communities throughout Vietnam was especially impactful. It gave me a new perspective on resilience, gratitude, and the different ways people experience life. It reminded me how much growth comes from immersing yourself in cultures and environments that challenge your assumptions and expand your perspective.

More than anything, the trip helped me figure out who I am. I realized that I thrive when I’m trying new things, meeting new people, and putting myself in situations that push me to grow. It taught me to be more adaptable, more confident, and more willing to say yes to experiences before I feel completely ready.

I left Southeast Asia with incredible memories, but I also came home with something far more valuable: a deeper understanding of myself, a greater appreciation for people from all walks of life, and the confidence to keep chasing experiences that challenge me, inspire me, and help me continue growing.