Babes Off the Beaten Path

Six Signs You’re a Bonafide Babe

This post is part of a series where Wild Wilderness Women is exploring the true definition of “babe” in preparation for our upcoming Babes Off the Beaten Path trip in Acadia National Park. Please consider supporting the babes forging paths for other outdoor women by making a donation on our fundraising page. If you’d like to share your words on “babe-dom” with us, please contact us!

Submitted By: Ella Rausch, Twitter—@VanellaBear95

Being a babe isn’t about outward attractiveness. It isn’t about how many 14ers
you’ve summited, the number of miles you’ve hiked, or how long your hair is. It
doesn’t matter if you’re a Republican or a Democrat, black or white, rich or poor,
male, female, or somewhere in between. Being a babe is about holding each other
up, giving back, and apologizing when we’ve made mistakes. It’s about not taking life
too seriously, but being mature enough to handle whatever gets thrown at us.

Even on your busiest days, you make time for others. Whether “others”
means your dog, your boss, the mailman, or the environment, you go through
life caring for those who need a friend, but also recognizing when you’re the
one who needs a little support.
You ask for help. Independence is so IN right now but I’m pretty sure no one
can move a king-size mattress alone. You’re more than willing to take a stab
at anything on your own, but aren’t ashamed when you hit a snag. (Offering
to give others a hand is pretty babe-worthy too.)
The process of things excites you. Most of us know that climbing a mountain
isn’t just the physical act of getting to the top – it’s the preparation, the
relationships you build, the inner demons you fight along the way. Instead of
refusing to acknowledge these components when you finally do reach the
summit of whatever peak you’re climbing, you better believe your
acceptance speech is going to be chock-full of genuine thank you’s, emotional
stories, and caring faces.
You care about something and say so. You believe that being complicit is no
different than being on the opposing side of an issue. You speak up about
what matters to you, but you listen more than you talk. It is so crucial to
democracy that we take the time to hear each other out and respond in an
appropriate way.
From a young age you’ve been identifying the holes in everyone’s logic, and
not because you want to fight or make someone feel stupid, but because you
genuinely want to help them better understand themselves. Life is pretty
confusing, and by the time we become these so-called “adults” things can get
pretty muddled in our brains. You strive to be your most authentic self, and
encourage others too! If who that is changes day-to- day, that’s okay. You
don’t make progress by staying in the same place.
You’re empathetic AF. This world is harsh – the last thing we need is a bunch
of emotionless robots roaming the streets ignoring every new sad, awful,
terrible, or good thing that happens. We have to be honest with ourselves
about the true state of things, and refusing to engage is really uncool. You
own your emotions and give others the space to do the same.

Sounds like you? Rejoice! And share the love – according to my calculations we’re
severely understaffed in the babe department and the maximum capacity is infinite.

The Time I Visited Glacier National Park (aka My First Foray into the Backcountry)

This post is a reflection on Wild Wilderness Women’s first annual Babes Off the Beaten Path (BOTBP) trip to Glacier National Park. This trip was an opportunity to explore what it really means to be a “babe” while taking new and experienced backpacking women out for an exceptional outdoors experience. If you’d like to share your words on “babe-dom” with us, or if you’d like to chat about how you can support BOTBP 2017, please contact us!

Submitted By: Jamie Furlan, WWW Member

The neural pathways in my brain are on fire: they are in overdrive taking in and processing so much beauty. I look to the left—ancient mountains rise boldly to the skies; I look to the right—mirror-lakes reflect those stark mountains and eternal sky back at me. I breathe in and pull the scent of damp forest and earthy soil deep into my lungs. The air is sweet in that fresh air kind of way. The sun warms my arms, my face, my very core. The silence and the roar of nature fill my being.

I am surrounded; I am engulfed; I stand in rapture amid endless beauty.

My muscles contract and propel me forward and up, and I feel strong. It is enough to place one foot in front of the other, to climb, to take it all in.

I feel gratitude for the unadulterated experience, for the opportunity to share it with others equally in awe of the spaces we are inhabiting. I am grateful for strong breath, for trees, for boundless sky.

It feels good to disconnect from my urban life and, instead, adopt a more deliberate routine of unpacking my pack daily, setting up camp, pitching the tent, separating my snacks and toothpaste to be hung in bear bags after dinner. In the morning, I pull down the tent, pack up my bag, prepare to do it all over again.

There is comfort in the process – in doing and undoing and doing something again. Like intricate Buddhist sand art, the beauty is in the process, in the total concentration on the moment.

Over the course of the week, we eight ladies make our own kind of sand mandala made up of laughter over attempts at hanging bear bags; of the simple pleasure of a hot beverage on a damp, chilly night; of glimpsing streaks of the Perseid meteor shower on its pilgrimage across the night sky.

These moments are ours – we lived them, we breathed them, we carry them with us. When we venture out into wild spaces, we bring a piece of it back within ourselves.

On my trip to Montana I learned that the kindness of strangers extends far and wide. That women, when they come together, can be a powerful source of support and strength. That Montana is breathtakingly, heartwarmingly beautiful. That it’s a delight to spot a marmot against the rocks in the afternoon light.

Don’t Mind Me, I’ll Just Be Sweeping

Submitted By: Allison Strauss, Board Member & Wilderness Ambassador in Portland, OR

By late morning, the rain mellowed to a mist and the wind died down. I was serving as ‘sweep’ at the time. The sweep is a steady hiker who acts as the caboose. She ensures no one is behind and unaccounted for, and by default, provides motivation to those in front of her. It was a position many of us took turns at. We took turns at the head of the pack too. I was pleased by our fluidity with this, changing positions throughout the day.

The gal in front of me and I found the rest of the gang waiting at a trail junction. Regrouped, the Babes made to start off again, turning toward the wrong branch in the trail.

“Um, I don’t think we’re going to Twin Falls…” I spoke up. I’d briefed the group on our route over a map before we broke camp.

But there was no mistake. While waiting at the fork in the trail, the Babes had agreed Twin Falls was worth a detour. It was a third of a mile there, meaning another third of a mile to return to the junction so we could continue on our route. As I did the math, I was hit with pride. Despite our rough start that morning with the weather, the group was game to add over half a mile to the day in order to see some waterfalls. And they made the decision collectively without me. It was a leader’s dream. The falls were nice too.

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Photos credit: Sara Gassman

Accessibility in the Outdoors & The Camp Kit’s Role

What does making the outdoors accessible mean? This question was on my mind when I co-founded Wild Wilderness Women almost two years ago. We wanted to build a group that would empower more women to get outside, and do so in an intentional way that wouldn’t leave any women out. As we’ve grown, it has been a question our board has returned to again and again. How do we make sure we’re fostering an inclusive environment where socio-economic status, race, sexuality, and the variety of other characteristics that a diverse community of women may identify with don’t inadvertently prohibit them from feeling welcome outside?

The urgency of the question for me only grew as our board began planning our inaugural Babes Off the Beaten Path trip—an annual opportunity for Wild Wilderness Women to come together and build community while having an exceptional outdoors experience. For this first year, we’d be taking eight women into the backcountry of Glacier National Park for four days. Three of these women had never been backpacking before.

My mind immediately turned to cost, and the stress I remember feeling around obtaining all the gear I needed when I started diving into the world of backpacking. The truth is that it’s expensive to get started backpacking. Just the cost of the basics adds up fast.

Backpack: $200
Sleeping pad: $60
Sleeping bag: $150
Tent: $175
Stove: $50
Headlamp: $25
Total: $660

The cost of gear shouldn’t be what stops a woman from trying out backpacking for the first time, and we certainly didn’t want this to be the case for the women who were courageously throwing their fears to the wind and coming with us on this wild ride to Glacier. This is where The Camp Kit came in.

For far less than the price of buying all new gear, The Camp Kit offers easy rentals of everything a newbie may need to try out this great love affair we call backpacking. And, unlike some rental companies, it only sends high-quality gear—the type that you would want to buy for yourself. As a first-timer, this is important. Using gear that is old, smelly, heavy, or otherwise unappealing can affect the way a beginner internalizes the experience.

When Tara first joined Wild Wilderness Women, she didn’t have much experience camping. Day hikes, paddling on the Potomac, or biking along local trails were more up her alley. But, strapping a pack on your back, sleeping near wild animals, and spending multiple nights in a tent? She had some hesitations. However, when we announced our trip to Glacier, Tara excitedly signed up. She quickly embraced the opportunity to push her limits in a way that so beautifully encapsulated the ethos of our group’s mission. This was something we wanted to champion.

Photo Credit: Nicole Lesnett

Tara headed out on the Dawson-Pitamakan Trail with us this past August thanks to a 1-person backpacking kit from The Camp Kit. She got to experience what backpacking was all about without committing to dropping hundreds of dollars on gear. And, I can’t imagine what our trip would’ve been like if something like the cost of gear had held Tara back from joining us.

Tara brought incredible spirit to the group—encouraging all of us when we began to feel tired, letting us share in her excitement of seeing her first moose, and being the first to want to learn new skills, such as bear bag hanging or backcountry dishwashing. I asked her at the end of the trip if she thought backpacking was something she’d do again, and, guess what? Even with aches in the feet and stinky armpits at the end of the trail, her answer was—yes!

Accessibility in the outdoors is important across a variety of spectrums. For me, the financial barrier of getting started is one I feel particularly passionate about breaking down. I’m grateful for options like The Camp Kit that help do just that.

XO—Korrin, Co-founder & President

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Header photo credit: Nicole Lesnett

The Importance of Accessibility in Being a Babe Off the Beaten Path

This post is part of a series where Wild Wilderness Women is exploring the true definition of “babe” in preparation for our upcoming Babes Off the Beaten Path trip in Glacier National Park. Please consider supporting the babes forging paths for other outdoor women by making a donation on our fundraising page. If you’d like to share your words on “babe-dom” with us, please contact us!

Submitted By: Nicole Lesnett, VP of Engagement & East Bay Chapter President

I’ve been wondering why going to Montana for this first annual Wild Wilderness Women trip is important to me.

My first ever backpacking experience was a five-day hike through Stanislaus National Forest with U.C. Davis Outdoor Adventures. Thinking back, I made a lot of mistakes. I remember reading the clothing section of the packing list and assuming that it meant one shirt, one pair of shorts, and one pair of socks for every single day. I remember dividing up the food and not understanding why no one else grabbed the oranges and avocados. I remember trying not to cry the first day as we hiked five miles uphill in high elevation, my pack weighing over 50 pounds and resting completely on my shoulders rather than my hips.

There were so many moments where I did not believe I could continue. But as the days went on and we covered more and more miles, as we were shown how to wear our packs properly and devoured the food, as I shared my clean clothes and nursed my bruised collarbones and developed blisters, I found that I could do it. When the other participants and I finished the trail, we bought a gallon of chocolate ice cream and ate it in ten minutes flat. I was beyond content, I was sore and relieved and proud, and I was surprised to learn how disappointed I felt that it was over.

Going on that initial trek was a privilege in many ways. I was fortunate enough to have some money from graduation to cover the trip fees, and to borrow most of the necessary gear from my outdoorsy momma. It was also a privilege to experience this challenging and awesome excursion with mostly women (though you were an irreplaceable, spectacular guide, Marshall!). Not once, with the exception of my own critical mind, was there a trace of doubt that I was capable of completing the trail. This has set the precedent for all trips since then—that women, new to backpacking or not, are unquestionably capable of such things.

Seven years and a dozen excursions later, this notion has certainly been tested.

There was the time that my friends and I brought about half the food needed for the six of us, and desperately shared one bag of salad between us for dinner on the last night. I’ve had a lot of good burritos in my life, but the one I had for lunch after getting off that trail was something else.

There was the time that two of us set out to tackle the Presidential Range in New Hampshire and were up on the ridge, much farther behind on the route than anticipated, when we learned that thunderstorms were rolling in. We got desperately lost trying to get to shelter, and when we arrived, didn’t have enough cash for the little covered site. We stayed there anyway, but were woken up every few minutes as lightning illuminated the shelter and thunder shook the foundation. The next morning we donned our $5 ponchos—arguably the best $5 ever spent—and hiked four hours out to a small highway, where a sweet couple eventually, graciously gave our muddy selves a ride back to our car. Satisfied with our level of roughing it for the weekend, we ditched all previous plans and drove towards the hot showers awaiting us at a hotel room in Portland, ME.

There have been so many mosquito bites and steep hills that I wonder why I keep coming back to it. I suppose there is something insanely gratifying—and supremely funny, in hindsight—about getting through the unexpected elements of backpacking. Coupled with endless endorphins, gorgeous views, and lovely views, I realize over and over again that there’s many reasons I keep coming back to it.

My only frustration with this lucrative pastime is its inaccessibility. In my experience, it’s been easy to see that more often that not, I backpack with friends who are male, white, and/or middle-class. Needless to say, I love their company, but I’d also really love to go with my less wealthy, non-white, female friends too. It’s disappointing to see that “the outdoors” is frequently an exclusive place. Though in some fields it has begun to change, most outdoor sports are dominated by men. It feels starkly apparent each time I find myself bouldering or waiting for a wave, and realize I can count every single woman in a (literal) sea of dudes.

Misadventures Magazine, a publication “by and for adventurous women,” has some pretty enlightening graphics on gender representation in outdoor media. It’s also no secret that outdoor gear can be absurdly expensive, and that big name companies perpetuate needing the top-of-the-line equipment to do it right. Considering a range of supplies, this site found that the cost of buying the most essential components of backpacking gear could be anywhere from $300-$2,200, not to mention permits, gas, food, etc. for each excursion.

Ideal backpacking destinations are not exactly welcoming either. A heartbreaking article from Al Jazeera states that only 1% of national parks visitors are African-American, in part due to fear of racist treatment. It’s clear that backpacking can often require certain levels of privilege, and this isn’t right. Something so strangely wonderful shouldn’t be so exclusive.

What does this all have to do with being a part of “Babes Off the Beaten Path?” Naturally, I’m excited for another challenge in a completely new place. Mostly though, I’m looking forward to an experience with other women who want to change the notion of what backpacking has traditionally meant. Though I haven’t met them all yet, I admire each one for putting so much time and energy into something as challenging as weathering the elements while hauling a bunch of crap around. And more importantly, I admire them for wanting to make sure that any lady who wants to partake in this absurd, rewarding, life-changing activity can do it too.

This year’s group of gals may be a relatively privileged lot, it’s true. But hopefully we can still set a precedent that our activities are accessible to any self-identified woman, regardless of income or background. While there’s much more work to be done, establishing no barriers to participating in Babes Off the Beaten Path could be one step towards making the outdoors more inclusive.

Baby Steps

Submitted By: Susan Sommer, True North

My ex-husband and various boyfriends before him called me “Babe.” It always felt a little weird. Even though they simply used it as a term of endearment, it made me feel weaker than I knew I was, like I had to conform to that stereotype of the fair maiden needing rescue.

A few years ago, I joined a meetup group called Alaskan Wild Women Hiking & Backpacking (the “Wild Women” part is how I stumbled across this group of Wild Wilderness Women!) and rekindled my love of hiking. The outings made me feel strong and knowledgeable in a way I never had before. I found myself wanting to lead hikes on favorite old trails in the area, so I became one of several official organizers for the Wild Women. I’ve since attended more than 100 events. For many in the group, our mantra has become “We can do it—we’re Wild Women!” We use it to get ourselves to the top of the mountain when we’re flagging, or to try new activities, or to psyche ourselves up for facing something totally unrelated to hiking and backpacking.

We tease each other when one of us feels wimpy about getting out or going farther: “Your butt’s going to be bigger than mine.” That usually spurs us to go the distance, together. We’ve created solid new friendships with women of all ages. And though we’ve never called ourselves “Babes,” we’ve definitely become stronger, healthier, and more confident in our own abilities and our capacity for accepting things like inexperience or fear or discomfort. If “babe” equates to being “sexy,” then that’s what sexy means to me. And, like babes in the woods, we enter the unfamiliar again and again only to discover that we summit life’s peaks and crawl out of her valleys by simply putting one foot in front of the other.

See more about Susan Sommer at www.akwriter.com or visit her Alaska trails blog, True North, at http://truenorthalaska.weebly.com/.

Guest Post: Babes Off the Beaten Path

Submitted By: LJ Dawson, A Wandering Vagabond

Days spent staring at my hiking shoes stepping, one two three; hanging from ropes above valleys, watching sunrises from the bare tops of mountains, holding my breath between a rivers crashing waves, grinning smiles full of powder, these are the moments that empower me as a person and as a woman. This is how I live my life most purely.

I was lucky, raised in the outdoors as much as the city, schooled with mountains and deserts with a bit of books and brick buildings to go along. My upbringing was incredibly unique in this way, and I often think how I would have found the wild if I my father hadn’t bestowed me with it along with my blue eyes.

I love the challenge and growth that leaving paved roads and gridded cities delivers to me. Being outdoors as a woman means being off the beaten path in more ways than physically though.

Society never talks about the path towards being an independent woman in the wilderness. It is almost a secret covered in vague references from pop culture, with features on Lynn Hill and other complete badass women in the outdoors. These stories inspire, but are rarely relatable.

If you are lucky, you have a family with outdoorsy females in it, but that is not common. Even if you have close female role models to look up to, getting into a part of society ruled by egoism and macho-ism is incredibly difficult as a young girl or young woman. This is not because women are meek and weak, but because our intrinsic traits are not valued as much as male values in the outdoor community’s social system.

Social bush whacking is required to become a Babe off the Beaten Path. Even with my vast background, I fought and am still fighting to gain knowledge and experience that male friends have picked up with less effort and work from the climbing gym to ski mountains.

My story is not an anomaly, and it leaves me wondering how many women miss out on the empowerment and happiness I gain from being outdoors. The reasons are obvious, but the solutions less so.

This is where the babe part comes in. When I get around the outdoorsy ladies, we always commiserate at the state of ego in the outdoors: “Gawd, I was trying to boulder at the gym and this guy would not shut up about this awesome V12 he sent in Moab,” or, “We were hanging out at the bar and ran into these cute skier guys, and then they wouldn’t stop talking about this crazy near death experience in the backcountry.” Or, “This one guy would not stop screaming ‘SEND ITTTT.’ I was warming up”

Any of us babes off the beaten path have run into the issue of how much we become one of the boys. Do we assimilate into the macho culture and join the competitive, adrenaline rushing practices? I thought that was what I would have to do join the inner circle.

All the macho-ism and ego has its benefits, but very little balance. A more feminine approach to outdoor activities, though rarely encouraged, has its own upsides. There is never one way to climb a mountain, but both paths lead to the top.

More and more women came into my life who were heavily immersed in the outdoors. I was shocked when they wore skirts, spoke quietly, and mentioned their feelings. This was allowed? I wouldn’t get voted off the island?

These role models inspired me to drop the fake attitude. Suddenly, I discovered that not only was it okay to voice a perceived weakness, to say no, I am scared, or slow down, but that often my voice was expressing others’ opinions and empowering the whole group. I saw power in the quiet words and less hells fury attack many of my male friends took towards the outdoors. I saw women treat days of backpacking with elegance, including dangly earrings and important spa days, and fellow river guides bring fashion to the river with gorgeous jewelry. These ladies shoved the macho-ism aside and were still phenomenal at the outdoors pursuits they chased. I was beyond lucky to have these women in my life to change my perception.

When we go into the woods, it becomes an intimate dance between the wild and our souls. It can only be our authentic selves dancing. As women, we must let ourselves be and interact genuinely with wilderness.

Where most men conquer, I find women dance with the environment. We are much more willing to listen to our instincts and the mountain or river telling us no. We surrender to the wild while many men try to fight and win. Embracing these attitudes will open the door to a more female inclusive community.

The outdoor community is run predominantly by a system that discourages women from participating and learning new skills. I believe it is not about overhauling the system or pointing fingers, but creating space to be filled in by women. More women participating physically and changing the dialogue of this community will create a blank page that new ladies can fill rather than fighting to cut out a space for themselves.

Being a Babe off the Beaten Path means refusing to sacrifice who we are to go places we love. A more balanced outdoor community will benefit the mountains and us.

So, just get out into the wild, ladies. Wear that dress down that river, or rock your pants. Take a risk and own yourself. Don’t try to fit into anything that you are not. Show up as yourself and dance and crawl up that mountain. Cry, laugh, and smile just get those feet moving. Be brave enough to take that leap in your own skin. And above all, bring other ladies out. Only good can come out of more women being outside.

Instagram: @awanderingvagabond

Being a Babe is a State of Mind

Submitted By: Carrie Meng & Mindy Morris, Chief WILD Women at WILD Women’s Adventures

At WILD Women’s Adventures our definition of a babe differs from what you’ll find in the dictionary. Being a babe doesn’t have anything to do with our looks or how attractive someone else finds us. Being a Babe is a state of mind. And being a Babe off the Beaten Path is a journey and an adventure, in life.

We as women feel a lot of pressure to meet societal requirements. To follow a certain path in life. Get an education, find a mate, get married, have kids, be a great mom, a good wife, find a career, etc. etc. For some, that path is not calling us. Or, maybe, it is, but there is also an urge to detour from that path on occasion. Being outside, in the open space, in the solitude of the woods and amongst nature releases us from those feelings of conforming to what anyone else may think we need. You can create your own path, one that defines you and where you feel whole. The therapeutic benefits of being outdoors is no new revelation and more and more women are discovering it.

We all have a different calling, not one path is right for everyone. Our internal needs as women, as Babes, are different. Some of us know only one path, one we are conditioned to know. Life becomes a habit and routine and we may lose ourselves in that routine. We want to educate, empower and support women in the benefits of being in nature/outdoors, off the beaten path and through sisterhood. Assisting them in finding the lioness that is their soul, breaking the daily routine and bringing light in their eyes to the forefront, where it belongs. Let’s evoke our senses and our inner child in our heart. Being a Babe is all of that, encompassing you internally, beaming from the inside out.

Whether you are already a seasoned outdoorsy lady or just contemplating taking your first day trip or weekend adventure, we urge all our fellow Babes to create your own path. Whether it be in your professional life or personal life, the beaten path isn’t always the way. We support all paths to happiness and contentment.

Carrie & Mindy

Instagram: @wildwomensadventures / Facebook: facebook.com/wildwomensadventures/

Being a Babe

Submitted By: Jamie Furlan, WWW member

Which of my many selves am I today? Am I pensive, or curious, or wild, or loud? Am I rock-solid or fluid or brazen or shy? I am all of these, at once, and others, still. “Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.)” – Walt Whitman

To me, being a babe is about recognizing the duality of my nature and accepting it. It’s about embracing my femininity and also the fierce warrior within me – acknowledging that they can coexist in harmony, and that I am stronger because of this.

Being a babe is about nurturing my many selves and allowing myself to grow, unswayed by social norms or media images telling me I should be a different way. I can be strong; I can be soft; I can be explosive; I can be still. I can be who I want to be: I am enough.

A babe accepts herself for who she is, and moves through the world with grace.

Being a babe is about joining with my sister warriors in community, in support of one another. For when we come together, we create a wave of positivity that carries us through the fields and the mountains and the streams, aloft on the crest of our friendship. We ride on each other’s strength, and lift each other up, and this is right and good.

Being a babe is about allowing my multitudinous selves to exist in balance. It’s about celebrating my tenderness as well as my fierceness, and making space for the full expression of my self. Being a babe is about exploring both my inner and outer worlds. It’s having the courage to look inward and confront what I find, and the courage to look outward, roam the land and forge my own path.

Being a babe is about being a strong individual and coming together with other strong individuals, and uniting in our babe-ness. It’s about finding peace within myself, and securing my place among others.

If I can have peace in my heart I can blossom and breathe life into the world. And stand tall among the other babes – we each a beautiful stem – offering ourselves to the rainbow, comprising the rainbow; complete on our own but better as a collective whole.

***

If a babe bares a lithe leg in the forest but there’s no one there to see it, is she still sexy? And if she bays at the full moon but there’s no one there to witness it, is she still wild? Why – yes! A thousand times, yes. She is primal, she is alluring, she is all fierce foxy lady.

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How to be a babe:

Be fiercely kind
Confront your fears; be brave; surprise yourself
Be raw, be real, be free
Own your babe-ness: if you feel confident, you exude confidence
Embrace the wild woman inside you – let her come out to play

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What it means to be a babe, or what I learned in an afternoon yoga class

Submitted By: Mia Zavalij, VP of Adventure Planning

You may be wondering why a group of adventurous, empowered women decided to call a wilderness trip to Glacier National Park “Babes off the Beaten Path.” To me, babe feels like an outdated term that was used in the late 90s to describe traditionally sexy women – I honestly don’t remember the last time I heard anyone refer to someone as a “total babe.” Nowadays, it’s occasionally used as a fun and flirty term of endearment, usually to make the request for a favor sound less so. “Hey babe, can you get the laundry?” sounds way better than, “Can you get the laundry?”

So, why then, why are we “babes?”

Well, the answer goes a little bit deeper than just using the right word for a good alliteration. And, I found my answer when I walked into an afternoon yoga class at a fancy studio in Boston. I started practicing yoga regularly to feel empowered and strong in my body, similar to the reason why I am so drawn to new challenges in the wilderness. But, when I walked into the sun-filled studio, I felt a familiar twinge in my stomach telling me that I didn’t belong.

The people filling the room seemed as flawless as the studio itself with its shiny wooden floors, perfectly placed twinkly lights, and golden Buddha statues. The outfit variety included Lululemon leggings in sleek black or eclectic prints and neon sports bras with a webbing of string that showed just the right amount through an open back Athleta top.

I wanted to cower in a corner in the back with my shabby gray tank top and my old yoga pants that were just beginning to unravel at the seams. They also have an ever-expanding hole in the left knee (note: ripped yoga pants are not yet a fashion trend, I could potentially be a trend setter). Instead, I took a good deep yogi breath and headed to a spot in the front of the room, next to the mirror, and facing a window that overlooks a bustling Boston street. I had my eye on this spot all week; if I ever wanted to even consider getting up in front of a room and teaching yoga, I had to get over the discomfort I have of people watching me practice.

It’d be nice to say that this was a life changing class, that seeing myself practice yoga made me feel like a goddess, and how now I always sit in front of the room. The truth is, I was mortified to find out that my black yoga pants stretch out to be slightly see-through in certain poses, and, in reality, some poses make me look like a Pinterest fail rather than a yoga model. But, it doesn’t really matter, because that tiny moment where I decided to push myself outside of my comfort zone and sit in front of the room felt more empowering than my yoga class itself.

That’s what made me feel like a babe.

We Wild Wilderness Women take pride in the accomplishments we achieve with our bodies. On each trip I go on, I am delightfully surprised by the combination of unconditional support and the hardcore challenges that we push each other to take. When I think of the word “babe,” I think of the time a group of us accidentally cross-country “skied” down a black diamond trail, misleadingly named Fern Gully, and made it out alive to laugh about it (note: we were all mainly beginners and “skied” is synonymous with “sliding down on our butts”).

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Wild Wilderness Women at White Grass Ski Touring Center in West Virginia. Photo Credit: Kelly Paras

When I think of the word “babe,” I think of the eight women who are gearing up to backpack in Glacier this summer. Some of them have never been backpacking before. Some of them are walking everywhere with weighted backpacks to train. Some are Googling and asking questions to learn everything they can, some are spending their free time fundraising to make sure the trip is accessible for everyone, and some are offering up their gear to ladies they have just met.

You may be thinking, “Oh, wow, backpacking through one of the most gorgeous parts of the country can’t really be that difficult.” But for women, backpacking isn’t always as accessible as it seems.

And that’s why we Wild Wilderness Women are babes. We’ve decided that instead of being ashamed of our bodies, we are going to thrive in our bodies. Instead of competing with each other for the top, we’re going to help each other get there.

Instead of saying, “I don’t belong in the outdoors,” we are saying that everybody does.

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Header photo credit: Sara Gassman