A cold morning foot bath. WCT/Pacheedaht Territory
Sort through paperwork, email guests, call the hotels and helicopters, check the weather, run to Superstore for groceries, pack food, check group gear, frantically pack my backpack and drive off to the wilderness with a bunch of anxious guests. Come home late eight to ten days later, unpack and clean gross gear, check emails and missed phone calls, slump on the couch for a few hours of youtube, and repeat.
Blow Hole, WCT/Ditidaht Territory
Sea Stack, WCT/Ditidaht Territory
Cold, Rainy Fire, WCT/Huu-ay-aht Territory
My summer came and went with a furious blast of back-to-back to back trips with very little time off in-between that left me on the brink of burning out. I started with a West Coast Trail that brought thigh deep water crossings in the surf, 60+ pound packs, a couple 18-hour work days and a 50km detour by boat to try to find our food drop. After finishing the trip and flying home, I had a few days to plan a Yukon River trip that seemed doomed from the start.
The wildfire situation had closed the highway to Dawson and the melting snow pack was leading to high water levels on the river and flooding in many Yukon communities. Hoping for the best, we left downtown Whitehorse paddling north in six canoes. Unfortunately, our luck didn’t last long and within a few hours, we faced a river blockage caused by 17 boy scout canoes, followed by unrelenting torrential rain for three days and 2-4’ waves that threatened to swamp our boats.
Somehow, we managed to get to Carmacks nine days later without losing any boats or people, but by the time I got home, it was barely a month into my season and I wasn’t sure I could keep going.
“Ddhäl Ch’èl Cha Nän - Ragged Mountain Land”
Hanging on by a thread, I transitioned out of the canoe and into my hiking boots and headed north to Ddhäl Ch'èl Cha Nän. Over the course of four trips in Tombstone Territorial Park with the support of my amazing co-guides Nat, Étienne and Kate, my energy slowly returned. While the breathtaking views of the mountains never ceased to amaze me, it was the relentless wind, the daily extreme weather shifts and constantly transforming landscape that seemed to refill my lost energy reserves. To see the land change from hills carpeted in wildflowers radiating every colour imaginable to snowcapped mountains draped in fiery reds, oranges and yellows, it reminded me why I love guiding and why I want to continue bringing people out onto the land.
Ddhäl Ch'èl Cha Nän / Trʼondëk Hwëchʼin First Nation
For me, guiding is two sides of a ruthless coin. One side is an opportunity to viscerally experience the land and to master skills that let you safely and comfortably bring others along with you. The other side is a brutal, three-month schedule that makes it incredibly difficult to do anything else, and strains important relationships as well as your ability to take care of yourself.
I’m still curious about this guiding thing and I want to see how far I can go with it. This year has taught me that without a good work/life balance everything can collapse but I’m determined to try anyway. I want to make guiding sustainable environmentally, ethically, but most importantly personally. Let’s see what happens.
