I come from a small, liberal hippie town in southern Oregon where we drink maté and meditate in circles and everyone attends the local ecstatic dances. Then I moved to Boulder Colorado where I found a lot more of the same kinds of people. It was common to find yourself processing past-life traumas and eye gazing with strangers before even finding out what they do for work or what their hobbies are.
I spontaneously decided to ship myself off to northern Maine, where I found a collection of military veterans who, after their time in combat, were seeking a level of physical and mental challenge that their day to day lives no longer provided for them. These men were hardened by their pasts and understood a shared experience of the world that shaped how they saw the world, a worldview that I at first could not even begin to comprehend due to the extreme difference of my own past. Their experiences in the military had significantly altered how they approached life, leadership, and personal responsibility. What really struck me was how these men didn’t seek sympathy for what they had been through; instead, they were focused on understanding and growing from their experiences. By listening carefully, I was able to see how their challenges had shaped who they were. These conversations taught me not just about the military, but about the power of listening and the connections it can build, even when we come from very different backgrounds.
There were only seven students including myself and one other young female for my first term, the Wilderness Canoe Expedition Semester, at Jack Mountain. Four of us were signed up to stay for the entire six month Expedition Instructor program. During the day we all had classes together, and were accompanied by three instructors. After classes we had time to cook dinner and socialize around the campfire before heading to our own tents for the night. This term included a lot of time on the river; nearly half of the term we were on trips, so much of the socializing happened all together, students and instructors co-mingling and shaking off the long hard day of paddling with jokes and food around the fire. One of the students ended up having to leave early due to continuous pain that was severely disrupting his ability to sleep. This was hard for us all, as his energy had a very important place in the group dynamic, but over time we recovered from the loss and finished out the term strong.
We started off the Bushcraft Semester strong with nine students and three instructors, but within the first week the only other female, one of the four Expedition Instructor students, had already left. That was very hard for me to cope with. I had been experiencing a lot of other losses in the time leading up to this and saying goodbye to her felt in that moment like the last straw for me (blog: Becoming Unphasable). I completely broke down after she left and found myself running to the guide shack to find Oz, who was the assistant instructor for both the canoe and bushcraft semesters. He gave me the pep talk of a lifetime, the man has had quite a wild life of his own, he has so much wisdom to share and an intensely motivational way of expressing it. I made my way back to camp and the events of the prior hour and a half gave me the internal fire I needed to push on ahead.
That left eight students at camp. The group dynamic of my second semester ended up being quite different than the first. The overall average age was younger, the guys liked to party a bit more after classes, and after losing my only female friend at camp I found myself at first feeling very isolated, but ultimately connecting much more deeply with all of the guys. In the first term we would sometimes hang out by the fire at the end of our days at base camp, but with the second group there were people socializing by the fire nearly every single night. On trips we got into the habit of playing cards almost every night after dinner, which was one of my personal favorite times of the day.
There were nights when the group would engage in some truly intense political discussions. People often had directly opposing views, and the energy around the campfire could escalate quickly, with everyone defending their own perspectives. However, despite these heated debates, what stood out to me was how, in the end, everyone still managed to maintain respect for one another. We could disagree wholeheartedly, but at the core, we all respected each other’s right to hold different opinions, and this made it possible for us to get along quite well, even after the discussions reached their peak.
There were also moments when I found myself delving into deep conversations about my spiritual beliefs with these men who had never been exposed to such ideas before. These exchanges were challenging yet enlightening. Even though many of them didn’t agree with or relate to what I was sharing, they approached the conversation with a surprising openness. When they didn’t fully understand something, they asked questions instead of dismissing my perspective. What amazed me was that, even when our views seemed worlds apart at first, there were moments when we discovered unexpected common ground. Sometimes, our ideas about the world converged in ways that neither of us had anticipated. They opened my mind to new ways of seeing things and I helped to open theirs. This was a powerful reminder of the importance of listening to and engaging with one another, even when it feels uncomfortable or looks from the surface like there’s no chance for mutual understanding.
The act of opening up and sharing our most deeply held beliefs—whether political, spiritual, or personal—served as a bridge, not a barrier. It brought us closer together as a team. We became better at understanding and empathizing with one another, even when confronting our most dramatic differences. This shared vulnerability and willingness to engage with opposing viewpoints strengthened our bond and created a stronger sense of community within the group. What started as potentially divisive conversations turned into opportunities for learning and growth, both individually and as a team, creating deeper and much more meaningful connections.
A couple weeks in to the Bushcraft semester our TA for that term went home to help his partner move into their new home, and then towards the end of the nine week term another of our Expedition Instructor students reached his breaking point. That left only two of the initial four students who were signed up for the whole six months. Each time we lost a member of the group, the dynamic would change. Each time we all had to go through the grieving process, and it made me wonder more and more if I was going to make it the entire six months, or if I too would reach a point where I just couldn’t go on any longer.
But I was learning so much, I needed this experience and I needed to see it all the way through. In addition to all of the technical skills I learned, the guys taught me discipline, and timeliness, or at least tried to (the only person I know who is more chronically late than myself is my mother). They taught me how to embody my power, my physicality, how to move big heavy trees and carry canoes, and tap in to my strength in the real world outside of the gym. And they also gave me space to be a girl, to do yoga in the river, to run around barefoot in the field, and to perch myself on high river banks and meditate through thunderstorms.
However I still felt a great lack in my connections without the presence of other women. I had proved to myself over and over that my gender did not limit me in my ability to do the things that these men were doing, so why were there not any other women there? The men understood the beauty of our surroundings, they were able to be present with the incredible experience we were all sharing, and they took it all in, but I was craving to connect with a woman who understood the intense magic of embodying the divine feminine when immersed in the woods.
My third term at Jack Mountain was the fall bushcraft semester in which I became a teaching assistant. I, along with the one other six-monther who stuck with it til the end, moved our tent homes to the guide camp area. This, once again, dramatically changed the social dynamic of our experience. We were no longer staying in ‘Moose Vegas’ with our tents near all of the other students. We had more time and more freedom at that point to determine how we spent our time outside of class as there were less projects and “homework” tasks to accomplish between classes. We would meet each day after classes to discuss what we needed to cover the next day, as well as to discuss how us TAs wanted to apply the newfound depth of our knowledge and skills in the field to our lives moving forward. Our socializing time primarily took place with other instructors at Tim’s house (the founder of and primary instructor at Jack Mountain) where we would have dinners with the other instructors weekly.
With this new space and freedom to create, I decided to conceive a plan to welcome the women who I was craving to connect with into this incredible experience that had brought me so much growth. Tim worked alongside me as my guide, mentor and when needed, my motivator to bring life to the Women’s Bushcraft and Canoe | 3-Week Immersion course. I have made it my mission to make this deep wilderness experience feel accessible to women who may feel unwelcome or intimidated by this industry of survival skills and bushcraft that seems to be quite overrun by men. I am so eager to get to know the women who, like me, have or want to develop a deep connection to the earth in a very practical way. And I am ecstatic to get back to this incredible place and share the experience and the depth of knowledge that I have acquired with new sisters by my side.
New posts every Sunday! Check back next week for more wilderness and wellness tips, skills, and stories. Follow along on instagram at @swsummers.01 to stay updated!