After working for about three years in the outdoor industry, I decided to make my biggest seasonal work life change yet: heading north to guide in Alaska. Going to Juneau felt like the pinnacle of my guiding career thus far, and I’d be taking on a sport I’d never professionally done – canoeing. Being a canoe guide in Juneau would mean dealing with cold water, high glacial winds, constant rain, and inevitable flooding, but it would also mean an extremely fulfilling experience, getting to show people the Mendenhall Glacier up close, and discuss glaciers and climate change almost daily.

I arrived in Juneau in April of 2024 and was met by a welcoming community of coworkers. We spent the next two weeks training, learning the ins and outs of skipping 29 foot boats, and building up our paddling muscles so that we could comfortably paddle across the lake every day. This also involved capsize training, which meant jumping in the glacially fed Mendenhall Lake in dry suits and learning how to flip over a 480+ pound boat. Training was difficult, and rewarding, and all of us came out the other side feeling ready to embark on a season of paddling small watercraft.

Our boats were 22 or 29 feet long, depending on the group size and made of fiberglass, so they weighed between 400-500 pounds empty. Most of the time, we would take out the 29 foot Clipper Langelys, which involved having one guide up front setting the pace for the group, and one guide in the back steering us where we needed to go. My company was very adamant about both guides having equal roles. Guides would switch spots on the way back, so as to make sure that no guide is seen as an assistant and no guide is seen as the lead.

Our staff was mostly women, and yet, shoulder season brought us a dose of misogyny along with the early season rain. While many of us were small, my coworkers were some of the strongest, most capable people I’d ever met, and every time we were met with comments doubting our abilities, my heart sank, and simultaneously, I became fired up about a woman’s place in the outdoors and on the water.

Building Confidence

From re-explaining our instructions, to grabbing our boats when we didn’t ask for help, to questioning whether we even knew what we were doing or where we were going, many of our male clients made starting the season extremely difficult, which started to wear on my mental health a bit. It wasn’t long before I started noticing that I acted different when I was guiding. I was more assertive, and did my best to appear stronger, even if I wasn’t feeling 100%. My male coworkers were extremely kind and supportive, but I definitely found myself working harder, trying to prove myself more in front of my clients, when working alongside a male guide. I was desperate to not be seen or treated as his assistant. I wanted so badly to be treated with the same respect that they were. While, to an extent, this did work, it would be hard on anyone to feel the need to appear strong all of the time. 

Peak season brought kinder, more respectful tourists, and while the “constantly strong” persona did not take a back seat, I did find that I was able to focus more on my job in the months of June and July. Conditions on the lake were variable. Sometimes bringing huge swaths of icebergs our way, sometimes forcing us to navigate katabatic winds. I even had young women express gratitude that they were able to have female guides on the water as it made it feel less intimidating or scary for them to ask questions.

I think this brings up the root of this problem: women deserve to feel welcome in the outdoor industry or outdoors in general. Without a welcoming space, it’s hard for women to feel like they deserve to take up space in paddle sports, and yet, connecting more women with water can be so important to not only their own personal lives, but also the healing of our planet. As a now-former guide in the Mendenhall Glacier zone, connecting people with the glacier ultimately helps to create more advocates for climate justice, public lands, and wild spaces. Women deserve to be able to exist in that space without fear of not being welcomed.

While peak season brought kinder tourists, it also brought more difficult conditions. Late July was windy on the lake, one day forcing us to paddle into a 42 mile per hour headwind in order to safely turn our boat around. We were faced with flooding from the annual glacial outburst flood, also known as a jökullhlaup. These conditions forced us to not only be stronger on the water, but forced us to gain confidence as guides. After the jökullhlaup, we were thrust back into the mess of shoulder season, but this time with more knowledge, confidence, and assertiveness as guides.

Comments we got during the late shoulder season were somehow more aggressive than the early season sexism. Instead of our abilities being questioned, we were often met with gender role affirming comments, sometimes referring unprompted to our apparent future roles as “wives and mothers.” We were questioned whether we were the guide or “just the driver” when picking up guests, and met with a condescending “you go girl,” when lifting heavy boats out of the water.

While these things might not seem as heavy to read about, they were a constant reminder that we were not seen as equal to our male counterparts, despite some of us women having more guide years under our belts. Toward the end of the season, I stepped into the more difficult role of solo guide, confidently steering a 29 foot boat with no pace-setter guide up front. This was one of the most empowering moments of my summer, as I finally felt like I had a seat at the table with the other lead guides, despite my job title saying “lead guide” the entire summer. 

We ended the summer on a high note, with a calm lake and cold weather, and my best friend and I guiding our last trip side by side, hoping and knowing that we had made some sort of impact over the course of the five months we were there. Despite our challenges, working on the water, amongst the glacier was one of the most empowering experiences I’ve had as a guide. Being a woman on the water is a special way to exist. Taking up space in the industry is important, and it’s time we grow louder than ever. We belong on the lakes, rivers, and oceans just as much as anyone else, and we deserve the same respect we give the bodies of water we paddle on.

Halle’s professional experience

At Girl Paddlers, our mission is to empower and elevate women in the world of paddling by sharing stories, experiences, and insights that inspire our community. You can learn more about Halle’s professional guide experience in, In Cold Water: Canoe Guiding in Alaska as a Girl Paddler and In Cold Water: Navigating Misogyny as a Canoe Guide in Alaska, parts 1 and 2 of this 3-part guest series.

Written by: Halle Homel