Ever since I can remember, it's always been about adventure. From paddling with pods of dolphins and whales, to spending quiet, misty mornings between windswept isles, to napping on sandy beaches beneath my wide-brimmed hat.
Growing up as an avid ocean kayaker, I became enthralled by the outdoors’ crisp, salty ocean air and rugged, unforgiving mountain peaks. As I learn to live without my beloved sister, the outdoors has transformed into my place of reflection, refuge, and release.
This space is all about sharing my outdoor adventure reflections, equipping you with the know-how and courage to get out there yourself, and empowering you with the tools to write about your own wild adventures.
Welcome to my journey.
Ever since I can remember, it's always been about adventure. Growing up as an avid ocean kayaker, I became enthralled by the outdoors’ crisp, salty ocean air and rugged, unforgiving mountain peaks. As I learn to live without my beloved little sister, the outdoors has transformed into my place of reflection, refuge, and release.
I hope you stay a while.
This is where you’ll find the raw, gritty, honest accounts of my outdoor adventures. These stories are the reason why the outdoors beckon me back, time and time again. They include the glorious ups, the gut-wrenching downs, and everything in between. You can check out some of my favourites below or–if you’re hooked already–you can read them all.
TranSelkirks | 170 KM | 5 DAYS
Prince Rupert | 3400 KM | 12 DAYS
Whistler Alpine Meadows | 55 KM | 1 DAY
Connect with me on social media to share in the ups, downs, hiccups, and learnings as I train and prepare for these grand adventures!
Multi-day itineraries and outdoor guides for trail running, fastpacking, motorcycling, and bikepacking that you can use as inspiration for your own wild adventures! Each itinerary includes route highlights, places to stay and eat, and things to see and do that are “off-the-beaten-path”—these are the perfect kick-start to your trip planning!
From my grieving heart
If our family can label any piece of our horrific tragedy as ‘fortunate’, it is that my sister left behind 15 journals from her 5-year battle. These poetry-, observation-, and insight-filled journals contain a depth of candid creativity that makes you pause.
I am now learning to live within my new reality and beginning to dabble my toes into the ‘making meaning’ phase of my grief journey. In this, Rachel has taught me that when we leave, all that remains is our finite collection of stories. The stories that will make our loved ones full-stomach-laugh and wailing-cry. The ones they will cherish and desperately hold on to.
She’s also taught me that our stories—no matter how painful—are better shared than silenced: “I believe that our weaknesses and our vulnerabilities are what can connect us the most. And in doing so, they become our greatest assets. The moral of our own personal stories.”
“It’s as bad as it can be. It’s Over. It’s Over.” My Dad’s tear-filled words shook me to my core. Between shallow breaths of traumatic, shocking despair, I let out a string of dilapidated I-can’t-do-this’s. With his words, our life imploded, crashing down in horrific slow motion. In a single moment the world became grey. All colour was ripped and torn from its fibres, slipping through my fingertips, leaving me unable to grasp even a shred of it to remember it by. No glowing yellow or bursting red or soft pink or radiant blue. Only dark.
There I was. Staring. Frozen. Standing in front of her closet in my jeans and bra, a Holter Monitor haphazardly strung across my chest. There were no doors on her closet. Instead, her clothing—vibrant and patterned, a quintessential representation of her identity—remained on shelves and hangers, inescapably exposed. It had been nearly five months since she passed away, but these clothes had remained untouched.
They were exactly the way she left them.
For weeks after Rachel’s death, I desperately rifled through every inch of her belongings. Her purse. Her closet. Her phone. Her photos. Her phone calls. Her messages. Her calendars. Each and every page of her books and journals. Again. And again. And again.
I was searching for something. For anything.
A sign that we had missed.
A place to put our blame.
An indication she had thought of me.
Of our family. Of her friends. Of reaching out.
And then, I found it.
My experience with loss reframed my relationship with the outdoors.
But, you might be thinking ...
You might be thinking ...
“Once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in.”
KAFKA ON THE SHORE
All the adventure-inspiration you could need, right to your inbox! Think: beginner's guides, trip planning expertise, and wild adventures to salivate over, curated for your adventurous soul. Whether you're in the off-season or out bagging peaks, this periodic note from me-to-you will keep your head in the clouds and your feet on the ground!
All the adventure-inspiration you could need, right to your inbox! Whether you're in the off-season or out bagging peaks, this periodic note from me-to-you will keep your head in the clouds and your feet on the ground!