Lindsay’s Story
Lindsay graduated from the Take a Hike Vancouver program in 2016. Now working at the Vancouver Aboriginal Child and Family Services Society in child protection, Lindsay reached out to us with a desire to tell her Take a Hike story. We hope you enjoy reading.
“I had no idea how influential TAH would become in my life”
I’d describe my Take a Hike (TAH) experience as challenging, rewarding, and inspiring—in that order.
I joined the TAH Vancouver program in Grade 10. I was diagnosed with ADD (now known as ADHD) super young and spent my elementary school years being pulled out of lessons for learning assistance, before being placed in a full-time special educational needs program in high school. I remember feeling ashamed about being placed in the program and that it didn’t feel right for me. I started smoking weed, skipping class, partying too young; I even got into a bit of trouble with the law. Looking back, I can see that I was pulling away from my family and rejecting my experience as a student. It got so bad that I failed Grade 9. It felt like no one had any expectations for me, or that any they did have had dropped away after my diagnosis.
My older brother, Andrew, was already at TAH. I was completely captivated by the amazing stories he would come home with – catching a glimpse of wolves while walking expansive coast lines on the West Coast Trail, or digging a snow cave at the Elfin Lakes Cabin and discovering a cave from previous camper, or sleeping like a king in a multi-room quinzee with his friends – and my FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) was palpable. Not to mention, at that time, I would do anything to follow in his footsteps; a true younger sister.
As my success continued to dwindle in mainstream school, I told my mom I wanted to challenge myself by joining TAH. I was pining for more. After that, things moved quickly. I was interviewed by the TAH social worker in July, and was sitting in the TAH classroom in September. At the time, I had no idea how influential TAH would become in my life.
“My teacher fundamentally changed the trajectory of my life”
My teacher at TAH for Grade 10 and 11 fundamentally changed the trajectory of my life. Before TAH, when I pulled away – both at school and at home – the adults in my life lowered their expectations of me. But not him. He recognized my leadership qualities, made me feel like he was genuinely rooting for me and on my team, and held high expectations of me when others had stopped doing so. I had never been so engaged and so determined to prove I could.
The program’s emphasis on leadership, problem-solving, fitness, community, and determination suited me so much more than my previous school experience. It felt much more holistic, and I just ate it up.
I am still moved by my experience of witnessing the character arcs of my peers in the program; I have always described it as a tough exterior cracking to show the tender true self beneath. Everyone went through some kind of transformation, even the kids who weren’t entirely bought in, with the biggest turning points often happening on multi-day trips. I think that’s because of two things: the comradery – we were all going through the same struggles with the same resources, and the predictability – we could rely on the fact that the staff weren’t going anywhere, even when times were tough. After a couple days on a trip, it wasn’t uncommon to see a classmate who never smiled burst into laughter, or a typically quiet person sing out loud! Familiar and family-like, we all learned to hold each other in ways that were different to day-to-day life back in the city.
“I remember thinking that what we were being asked to do was insurmountable”
The outdoor experiences at TAH birthed my love of movement, health, and wellness. I loved the feeling of physical accomplishments and feeling capable for the first time in a long time.
One paddling trip stands out clear in my mind – an 8-day kayaking trip covering 100km+ across the Nuchatlitz Inlet on the West Coast of Vancouver Island. I remember feeling daunted as this was a longer and a much more challenging trip than we usually did, but the staff said we were ready, and we trusted them.
The element of the trip I was most nervous about was a 3.5 nautical mile crossing. The staff had warned us of the swells prior to the crossing and within minutes of turning away from land we were in waves so large they simulated deep valleys and mountain peaks. On a kayak, if you get seasick you are supposed to defy your instinct to not throw up on yourself and do exactly that (you are wearing a sprayskirt so it’s okay!). If instead, you throw up to the left or to the right into the water, the whole boat jolts and rocks, risking a capsize. Unfortunately for my partner, sickness overtook them on the crossing, and unfortunately for both of us, a capsize felt imminent. I panicked. I begged our teacher to tow us… I was absolutely certain that our boat was going bottoms up and we were seconds away from floating in waves of bile and partly digested chunks of granola bar. To my shock and dismay, he refused. He stayed close, but stood strong in his “no”. I remember thinking that what we were being asked to do was insurmountable, but he believed that we could do it.
Somehow, we did. We pushed through, eventually arriving at a remote beach where a huge rusty and fragmented tanker had nestled into the sand in its final resting place. My paddling partner took a moment to lay flat on his back, worshipping solid land in a way he had never done before.
Before long, we headed off on a hike that involved bush-whacking our way through dense Great Pacific rainforest, catching respite from the foliage only when a fallen tree provided an organic sidewalk of sorts. The reward at the end of this slog of a day will stay with me forever; when we broke through the woods onto the beach, we saw three grey whales bottom-feeding just 10 metres from the shore, their heads breaching the water to look at us while huge waves crashed onto the shore. The feeling of awe and disbelief in that moment is an emotion I can still tap into today. I remember thinking, “I can’t believe I’m here”.
That trip saw our group hold each other in high highs and low lows, knowing that the only way was through. We each took turns holding space for each other in moments of frustration and challenge, and we felt so connected during the moments of celebration and group reflection.
Articulating this memory reminds me that without moments of great challenge there is no great joy. Teenhood is full of great challenges, and adults have a responsibility to act as a guiding light. There is no one more influential than an adult who sees the inherent value a youth has and can hold up a mirror at just the right angle so the youth is able to see the same thing.
“The only way was through”
The Bowron Lake circuit is a 10-day canoe trip I took part in when I was in TAH. 10 years on, I decided to take my family on that same trip. As I organized the itinerary, including gear, food, rentals, and transportation, it became alarmingly clear to me that my memories from my teenage version of the trip were practically non-existent, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why.
My partner and I organized for my parents, my brother, and his partner to come with us on my return to Bowron. None of them, apart from Andrew, had ever done a significant multi-day trip before and my dad admitted he’d said yes assuming the trip would never actually happen.
It rained almost immediately, which is when I discovered my dad’s ‘rain jacket’ was a windbreaker with no hood. We ended up fashioning him a plastic bag tarp cape which he wore for two days straight! It wasn’t an easy start.
On Day 4, we were at the final campsite on the 52-kilometer-long Isaac Lake when I had a flash of recognition. Stepping back onto that campsite 10 years later was the key I needed to unlock a slew of memories from the TAH trip. It came back like a tsunami. The rain, the incessant rain! It didn’t stop raining for a single second throughout the entire 10 days. Completely soaked to the bone for 240 straight hours. Waking up to the inside of my tent glistening as the dawn light reflected off the frozen film of condensation. My trip a decade prior had been a freezing cold suffer-fest, and my brain had done a bang-up job suppressing the memory.
This time round, other than the initial two days of rain, we were treated to sunny days for the rest of the trip. It was blueberry season, so we had fresh blueberry pancakes every morning and my brother couldn’t cast a line without pulling up a huge trout. By the end of the trip, my dad – who had never been into swimming – was swimming in the lakes every chance he could get. It sounded like they became near-spiritual experiences for him.
Don’t get me wrong, the trip was still challenging this time round, but feeling so connected to my younger self, and sharing the trip with my loved ones, was such a significant experience for me. My time in TAH set me up to overcome challenges that initially feel insurmountable, so I knew my family and I could do it.
“It’s crazy how much TAH continues to be a theme in my life”
Take a Hike is always something I come back to, I feel tethered to it. After graduating, I chose to go into social work as I was inspired by the Youth and Family Workers I knew from my time in the program. Once it got to the point of applying for a practicum placement, I knew I had to do it back at TAH in the same program I attended. I was a hound dog, and I made it happen!
I loved seeing the program from the other side, and I think the fact that I’d literally been in their shoes gave me extra credibility with the kids. It was an honour to be in the same space as the youth as they grew and learned and experienced new things, and it was important to me to be a responsible mentor and spot the light in the youth that other adults missed. I grew an immense respect for the tenacity youth possess, and how each and every youth has a powerful and beautiful flame that requires careful tending and stoking. The experience confirmed to me that I definitely wanted to work with children and youth, and surprised me by teaching me that I was also drawn to working with parents. I now work for the Vancouver Aboriginal Child and Family Services Society as a child protection social worker and get to do both.
Not too long ago, I was assigned a case at work involving a youth who I knew of through the TAH network. Recently, I left a girls’ night at one of my friend’s houses and found a phone at the bus stop. I picked it up, hoping to find a way to reunite it with its owner. On my way home, the phone rang; it turned out it belonged to a TAH youth, and I’d been on his clinical team during my practicum! I couldn’t believe it. My partner and I drove the phone over to them, texting their mom an update on the way. We ended up giving them a lift home, chatting away for the entire journey. My partner hadn’t had a conversation with a teenager for a while, and he said he was moved just by spending time with them and being reminded of how much you go through in your teenage years.
To me, these interactions demonstrate how the impact of TAH ripples out in ways that are hard to predict or measure. It’s crazy how much TAH continues to be a theme in my life, and when moments like these happen, it feels like a reminder that I’m exactly where I need to be and where I’m needed. It’s all connected.
“Nature is medicine”
As a person with Cree heritage, I believe that nature is medicine – it certainly has been for me – and TAH offers that. The program gives access to nature to kids who would never otherwise have it, combined with a mental health focus that has emotional literacy at its core. When I was back in the TAH classroom for my practicum, I witnessed this emphasis on emotional literacy, an emphasis that had evolved since my time in the program as a teenager.
I know from my own teenage years that kids who have been in trouble with the law, or have acute mental health challenges, or skip class to use substances, have a lot of internal turmoil that they find really difficult to communicate or get out on the table. The program helps them to understand their feelings and talk them through, which is vital for being a functioning human who’s able to take on challenges and make healthy relationships with people. The TAH program brought about fundamental changes in my life that set me up for success, but I know that programs like this don’t exist without people choosing to invest in them.
When I retraced my paddle strokes through the waters at Bowron, it became clear to me that the impact my time in Take a Hike has had on me only compounds over time. It’s like this wonderful life experience that keeps blooming new flowers. I don’t know where I would be without it.
