Women in the Backcountry Don’t Need Your Help

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Women in the Backcountry Don’t Need Your Help

Post by maiathebee »

I wrote about a similar experience in a recent trip report. Most people here were supportive. I do think this is an important conversation to have. Please be kind to each other when discussing this, and please respect the perspectives of women who are brave enough to share their experiences.

Source: Outside Magazine
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Women in the Backcountry Don’t Need Your Help

Every woman who hikes has been the target of mansplaining—and outdoor writers and editors are no exception
I was a capable backpacker out for a casual outing with friends on a trail well within my comfort level. But to these men, I was some sort of girlish amateur in need of a savior.

Zoe Gates
May 16, 2021



This story was originally published by Backpacker.

The skies were gloomy, but my mood couldn’t have been sunnier. I was tromping up the Horn Fork Trail in Colorado’s Collegiate Peaks Wilderness in a light drizzle with two friends. It was the last weekend in August, and the willows that lined the path were just beginning to take on the yellow of autumn. Low clouds obscured the summit of 14,421-foot Mount Harvard. The weather report had forecast rain all morning, but it was supposed to clear up before the weekend was over.

Abby, Erica, and I had met as college interns at the same outdoor startup. We’d all landed in Colorado following graduation and had been looking forward to this girls’ overnight for months. As we walked, Abby regaled us with the plot of a horror movie. Then, to lighten the mood, we sang show tunes, grateful that the trail was empty—and just flat enough to grant us the lung capacity to really belt it out.


Our goal was Bear Lake, an alpine tarn with a backdrop of granite spires. The hike in was an easy five miles, and we hoped to snag a campsite somewhere in view of its shores. Just in case, we made note of at least half a dozen camp spots we could backtrack to if necessary.

The clouds drew closer around us as the trail steepened up to the lake basin. We cinched up our hoods and forged into the gray void ahead. Before long, we crested a rise and the lake came into view. The peaks we’d hoped to see above it were completely shrouded, but we scampered down to the water, glad to have arrived. A few other hikers were sheltering from the wind and rain behind boulders. Halfway down the shore, someone had pitched a tent and green tarp in the lee of a big rock.

As we huddled together, taking in the gloomy view before we turned to make the mile trek back to the last protected campsite we’d seen, I heard a whistle. I turned to see a figure, dressed head to toe in rain-slicked rubber, standing beside the green tarp. The sound came again, and the man raised his arms and waved us over.

“Maybe they’re breaking camp,” I said. “I bet he’s about to offer us their tent site.”

At the tarp, two men who looked to be around 60 greeted us warmly. “It’s nasty out there. Come stay dry for a bit,” the first man offered, while the other moved over to make room for us under the tarp.

We exchanged the typical hiker pleasantries. They were old college buddies on an annual getaway; they’d been hunkered here for a few nights, and they were friendly enough. After a few minutes, however, I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being condescending to us.

“Do you have rain paints?” they asked, regarding mine and Erica’s hiking skirts with palpable judgement. I shook my head. I rarely carried mine for short overnights such as this one; plus, I had plenty of dry layers in my pack, which was shielded under a rain cover.

“You girls are going to get hypothermia out here,” said one of the men as he offered us hot water fresh off the Jetboil. “You should always wear rain pants when it’s like this. That’s how people die, being unprepared,” he said. “You’re lucky you ran into us.”

As grateful as I was for the warm drink, his words took me aback. Had this man really just told me I was at risk of death? Sure, it was cold out—but I was dry and comfortable under my shell, and my pack was well stocked. I knew that a 15-minute hike would deliver me below the clouds and back to tree cover, where I planned to crawl into my sleeping bag and cook up a warm dinner. If worst came to worst, the car was an easy five miles away. I had spent enough time outdoors to know when I was in danger, and the cold, damp weather didn’t scare me.

I was ready to get moving again. I’d heard enough than to want to indulge these guys’ hero complex, and I was only getting colder sitting under their tarp. But Abby, ever the extrovert, was engaged in a friendly conversation with the men. They were telling her about a solo woman backpacker they’d met yesterday at the lake; she’d continued past them to the summit of Harvard. “She was out here all by herself,” one of them said, his tone incredulous.

“You girls are going to get hypothermia out here,” said one of the men as he offered us hot water fresh off the Jetboil. “You should always wear rain pants when it’s like this. That’s how people die, being unprepared,” he said. “You’re lucky you ran into us.”

The first guy offered me a pair of fleece mittens. I declined. My own hat and gloves were just a few feet away, under my rain cover and inside my pack. But he insisted. Finally, to put an end to his urging, I took the mittens.

“So, are you ladies students?” they asked us. We shook our heads. I could tell they were impressed when Abby described her job as a sustainability analyst at a large company. When Erica said she worked in advertising at Outside, they nodded in approval. Then they turned to me.

“I’m an editor at Backpacker,” I said. “I work on all of our skills and survival content,” I added with some satisfaction.

I watched the surprise cross their faces. They were subscribers to the magazine, I learned as they plied me with questions about my work. They seemed mildly impressed, but as our conversation continued, it was clear that even a day job at one of the best-known magazines in the outdoors wasn’t enough to convince them that I knew what I was doing.

Turning to me and Erica, one of the men said, “We ought to write letters to your bosses at Backpacker and Outside and let them know how unprepared their employees are.” Erica and I exchanged a glance and pretended to laugh along. All this because we weren’t wearing rain pants?

I could almost read their thoughts: the editors who had hired me at Backpacker must have made some mistake, or my editing skills must somehow make up for my lack of hiking experience and poor judgement. I was a capable backpacker out for a casual outing with friends on a trail well within my comfort level. But to these men, I was some sort of girlish amateur in need of a savior.

I was past wanting to prove myself to these men, but the conversation continued. I told them about the skills articles I write and the survival podcast, Out Alive, that I help to produce. I told them about the bear-attack victims, search and rescue professionals, and avalanche survivors I’ve interviewed. They seemed to scoff as if to say, Be careful, or you’ll end up on that podcast yourself.

Finally, we excused ourselves. The men topped off our water bottles and waved us off with a final warning. I was relieved when we dipped back toward the trail and the green tarp receded into the fog.

Striding down the trail, the three of us first laughed off the encounter. Within minutes we were away from the wind and wet of the lake basin; just as we expected, it wasn’t raining at all down on the main trail.

But the encounter had left a sour taste in my mouth. We debriefed: What had made us seem so vulnerable to these guys? Was it our hiking skirts? The fact that they were fathers, and we were young enough to be their daughters? Had some paternal instinct kicked in and compelled them to “protect” us? Had they even realized they were being so condescending?

However “harmless,” making assumptions about hikers’ ability levels tells them they’re not welcome. In extreme cases, the exhaustion of dealing with these microaggressions on the trail may even be enough to drive them out of the outdoors.

As far as backcountry encounters with strangers go, this one was harmless. Despite their needless scolding, the men were friendly enough, and nonthreatening; our interaction wasn’t even hostile. And yet their condescension put a damper on an otherwise great day, even more so than the rain. It was far from the first time some aspect of outdoor life had been “mansplained” to me. But it was a revelation into how other people—particularly men—view me on the trail, regardless of my recreational or professional accomplishments.

Experiences like mine are almost universal for women and hikers of marginalized identities. However “harmless,” making assumptions about hikers’ ability levels tells them they’re not welcome. In extreme cases, the exhaustion of dealing with these microaggressions on the trail may even be enough to drive them out of the outdoors. And if it can happen to someone who spends eight hours a day thinking, talking, and writing about hiking, and countless more in the field testing gear and hiking for pleasure, it can happen to anyone.

Before long, Abby, Erica, and I were throwing our packs down in a perfect campsite among some low pines. The clouds had parted and the sun emerged in full force. I pulled the insoles out of my trail runners and lay them to dry in a patch of sunlight.

We dug snacks and books out of our packs and reclined against rocks, basking in the warmth and enjoying one another’s company. Toward the lake, the upper elevations were still enveloped in dark clouds. I thought of the men we’d met huddled under their tarp in clingy rain gear, while down below we lounged in the perfection of a late summer afternoon. It’s a good thing they had their rain pants.
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Re: Women in the Backcountry Don’t Need Your Help

Post by balzaccom »

I will always remember a story told to me by a female guide...

She and another woman were leading four other women on a backpacking trip in the Sierra. On their second night out a lone male hiker stopped in to visit their campfire (back when we made fires).

After looking around at the group carefully the lone hiker asked the six women:." Are you out here all alone?"

Dear God...
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Re: Women in the Backcountry Don’t Need Your Help

Post by rlown »

Evidently never. On the Rafferty trail, one woman was carrying a 9mm which my friends saw as I walked up to a ranger wilderness permit check. That wasn't meant for bear and completely illegal in Yose. :snipe:
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Re: Women in the Backcountry Don’t Need Your Help

Post by Wandering Daisy »

I had an interesting encounter two years ago in the Wind Rivers. I was with my friend, who happened to be the expedition doctor on the Everest climb with the blind climber (sorry forgot is name). Additionally he had trekked extensively in Nepal. He and I also worked as instructors for the National Outdoor Leadership School for years in the 70's. I actually did all the route planning for NOLS for several years. And I have written a well-reviewed guidebook to the Wind Rivers.

We met a fellow at a river crossing. He asked us where we were headed. Upon telling him this he began a rampage on how he knew the Wind Rivers better than anyone, and our route was all wrong. Steve and I just looked at each other, let the fellow rant on as he felt so superior, and nodded our heads. "Thanks for the information" we said, and crossed the river. At camp, we laughed over this. What an A**H. I can imagine how more condescending he would have been if it were just me. Women definitely get this more, but even very qualified guys get this treatment too.

I really do not pay that much attention to this. Advise given when not asked for usually comes from the inexperienced who need to feed their egos. However, some are genuinely wanting to be helpful. You can tell the difference in their voice and words. I have had a whole lot more explicit and implicit discrimination in the workplace. So I think those of us old enough to experienced all this probably are less impacted by "mansplaining". Besides, once you get to be over 70 years old, who the hell cares- you develop a thick skin. But it can be very discouraging for younger women.

Here is the thing. Because it is "implicit", some guys just do not get why it is condescending. If he got it, it would not be implicit. That goes for any prejudice. I admit that I have a few implicit prejudices with guys from certain macho cultures. I try to tamp it down, but it always creeps up.
Last edited by Wandering Daisy on Mon May 17, 2021 8:10 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Women in the Backcountry Don’t Need Your Help

Post by balzaccom »

It's funny, I teach classes on how to sell things to people. I've even written a book about it. The mark of a great salesperson, despite what many people think, is not the ability to talk fast. It's the ability to listen. A good salesperson will always start every conversation with a few questions, as a way of figuring out who he/she is talking to.

I always say that you can't sell anything to anyone. But you can figure out what they want to buy, and then make that possible.

people who give free advice should heed that free advice :D
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Re: Women in the Backcountry Don’t Need Your Help

Post by Wandering Daisy »

Unwanted advise has nothing to do with how smooth the "sales pitch". If I need or want advise I will ask for it. If I want more then a brief "Hi" when meeting someone, I will say more. If I really look in bad shape then all I want is a "are you OK?" That is what I say when I come across a guy who looks like he is about to puke. Everyone has their pride and I respect that. It is really embarrassing to ask for help even when you need it. And it is incredibly annoying for someone to assume you need help or "advise" when you do not.

Years ago, after several days seeing nobody, there were folks on the opposite shore when I was crossing a stream. I was so surprised that I fell flat on my face in the stream. I picked myself up and the people acted like nothing happened, we said "hi" and each went on our own ways. What wonderful souls!
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Re: Women in the Backcountry Don’t Need Your Help

Post by maiathebee »

When I'm going cross country and see someone I almost always ask them about their route and conditions, since that on the ground recent observations can help inform what I'm doing even if I'm going somewhere else. I like to ask about snow if I'm heading up a pass. It doesn't mean I'm not prepared for whatever the answer is, I just like to know what I'm likely to encounter, or if maybe the person figured out something that could save me time. What really irks me is when I get condescension or unwarranted warnings along with that, when really all I want is information.
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Re: Women in the Backcountry Don’t Need Your Help

Post by Wandering Daisy »

The trouble with any "advise" whether wanted or not, is that often it is just not correct. Everyone's observations and opinions are so different. I hesitate to give advise because what I may think is easy may be difficult for someone who is not (or has not been) a climber and mountaineer. I would feel horrible if my advise lead to someone getting hurt. On the other hand I am such a wimp crossing streams. What is horrible to me is easy for someone taller and heavier and not afraid of water like I am. Particularly, beginners may take someone's advise as set in stone; they really have not developed the judgement yet to evaluate the advise given.

Now if I just saw a bear, or rattlesnake on the trail, and immediately meet someone, I WILL tell them.

When I was young, I probably got a lot of condescending comments, but honestly I was too innocent and clueless to know what was going on. Plus it was so pervasive in the 1960's and 70's. Like in the kid's movie "Babe", when the goose got eaten for Thanksgiving on the farm, Babe gasped, and the sheep dog said, "well that is just the way it is".

It was the opposite when I worked for NOLS- everyone had to prove themselves regardless of their size. I had to carry the same 70 pound pack as a 220 pound 6ft man. Nobody carried the rope for me. Nobody helped me any more than they would a guy. It certainly weeded out a lot of women who would have made good instructors. That is also a bit sexist. (I think I married my current husband because he actually carried our climbing ropes and he helped me across difficult stream crossings!)

As for the article cited for this thread, there is also an element of age. Equipment and views of safety evolve over time. Old school backpackers often are over-prepared and think, like the article, that you ALWAYS carry rain pants. And a hiking skirt? OMG, that is not right. And trail running shoes instead of big heavy boots? You will twist your ankle they say. I think we all know deep down when the comments get sexist and condescending. Guys who are prone to do this, should count to 10, breath, and then think if THEY would like to be assumed to be inexperienced by someone else. And older backpackers need to remember that the young folks on the trail are NOT their kids - they are adults who do not need our advise. Nobody wants to be stereotyped into a rigid box based on their looks, age or what they wear. (I did meet a naked hiker once!). Just treat others like you want to be treated. And hike your own hike and let others hike their own hike.
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Re: Women in the Backcountry Don’t Need Your Help

Post by balzaccom »

To Daisy's point about the reliability of free advice...

I remember seeing a study years ago that asked people on the street for directions. But it turned out that the location they were seeking did not exist. I seem to remember that well more than half the men in the survey provided directions anyway---even though the destination did not exist.
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Re: Women in the Backcountry Don’t Need Your Help

Post by paul »

I try to avoid giving out any advice - just information. As in, "yeah, there was about 100 yards worth of snow on the way up to the pass", or " the creek was about up to mid-calf on me". I will sometimes make things sound worse than I saw them if I get a sense that someone is ill prepared, on the theory that I'd rather scare them off than encourage them to get in over their heads. Exactly what clues me in to how well prepared or experienced people are I don't think I could explain. But I wouldn't make any comments about that, I just make the snowfield sound longer or the creek deeper. That way it ends up as reflecting on me, not them. If I am wrong about their level of experience, and they cruise through with no problems, once they get to the pass or whatever they will just think I was an old fart who can't hack it any more.
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