For years, I talked to my friend Emma about just wanting to be outside. We’d daydream about living like those influencers who travel around in camper vans, spending their seasons working on trails, guiding rafting tours, and waking up to the mountains every day. My entire feed became the outdoor industry. Trail crews, backcountry rangers, van life. I knew I loved all of it, and deep down I knew I could thrive there.
But when I started college, I played it safe. I declared a business major, convincing myself that networking, internships, and a structured path was the “right” choice. Everyone around me seemed so career focused from day one, and I thought I needed to fit that mold.
Then one day, Emma sent me an application for Southwest Conservation Corps, and the rest is history.
Three months living and working in Durango Colorado on a trail crew. Hiking in and out of worksites, backpacking in the backcountry, camping around the state on our days off. Camping and hiking were always things that I enjoyed, but never to this scale. Not in the way that demanded so much of my body and mind. And yet, I still applied.
It was the best decision I ever made. I loved it so much that I went back for another season with Rocky Mountain Conservation Corp this past summer.
My “Pink Pony Club” Summer
SCC was the summer that pushed me to follow my dreams and to eventually change my entire career path. It taught me to “embrace the suck”, to lean into the discomfort, and see how much bigger life could be when you are willing to risk the unknown.
Joining SCC was the biggest leap I had ever taken. After my freshman year, I packed up my car and moved to Durango to live and work with seven strangers from all over the country. We worked an 8- days on, 6- days off schedule on trails across southwest Colorado. That is where I learned how to properly backpack, how to use tools, and what It truly meant to push my limits.
I learned how to be vulnerable without fear.
There were so many moments, before and even during it, when I questioned what I was doing there. Being away from my family was difficult, and the work was physically draining. But I was having the time of my life. I explored southern Utah and fell in love, wandered through almost all of Colorado, and met people who live this lifestyle year-round. People who believed in conservation, stewardship, simplicity and adventure the way I do.
My crew encouraged me to step into the discomfort. They cheered me on when the work felt endless or my motivation wore thin. These seven strangers quickly became my family. Dance parties on Scree fields became our version of joy. Finding sticks to mix the dense pot of dehydrated dinner became a nightly ritual. “Pass the pot” was pure chaos and cruel, but the laughter we shared is something I carry with me every single day.
Rocky Mountain Conservancy: A Different Kind of Hard
My time with RMC was a completely different experience from SCC. By the time summer came around, life back home had changed. I had recently just become an aunt, my friendships in college finally felt solid, and I had built a routine and a community that felt stable. Leaving again didn’t feel like an escape this time. It felt like stepping away from something I loved.
When I arrived at RMC, I found myself on a much larger and more remote crew, ten of us lived and worked together in the remote Rawah Wilderness. We grew close pretty quickly as there was no one, or nothing else around us.
The crew was full of the most outgoing, energetic people I have ever met. There was a new bit every day. Trail names were handed out almost immediately and even on the hardest days, someone was cracking a joke making us all realize that life really isn’t that serious. They brought a kind of joy and whimsy that never felt forced. I laughed harder that summer than I had in a long time.
And the work itself- that is where I grew the most.
RMC gave me opportunities I had only dreamed about during my first season. I got to work more closely with the National Park Service and the U.S. Forest Service. I learned how to build a turnpike from start to finish. I earned my crosscut saw certification, spending long days removing downed trees from the trail. Learning how to communicate clearly with my partner and genuinely getting so excited every time I saw a massive tree that was going to cause us so many problems.
This was the summer I began to understand the technical side of trail work. Not just how to swing a tool but why structures matter, how trails function, and how restoration and recreation balance each other.
And in between all the learning, all the new responsibilities, the joy always found me. In the jokes, bits, the trail names, family dinners and the long walks back to camp
If SCC was the season that broke me open, RMC was the season that built me up.
The Places That Still Visit Me
These experiences taught me that growth doesn’t come from staying comfortable. It comes from saying yes when you’re scared. Showing up even when you don’t feel ready. Moving across the country with people you barely know and trust that you will figure it out together. Going into that first summer I did not expect to change my career path, my sense of self or the way I think about challenges. But discomfort has a way of shaping you without asking permission. It forces you to be brave, to become more grounded and be sure of what you want.
And I think that is why places like Echo Basin, Grassy Pass, and the alpine zone of the Rawah come back to me. They are reminders of who I became out there, of who I still am becoming.
Because every time I chose to be uncomfortable, I learned something new, I became someone new.