Out Trails LGBTQ+ Trail Running Retreat - Day 1

I’ll admit, I was a little nervous stepping onto the ferry this time. Someone I’d never met was picking me up at the terminal.

Even though there’s comfort in knowing we were headed to the same place - Out Trails, a LGBTQ+ trail running retreat - it still felt like a small leap into the unknown. I had recently put my pins that I keep on my trail running vest, and attached them to my Patagonia Refugio Day Pack - this was a canvas I would customize when I returned home - but for now, I needed colour to feel comfort, and I wrapped myself in my Houdini jacket, red, magenta, blue. In that moment, I felt so lucky that Patagonia Victoria was holding me , both inside and out, for this weekend.

When I spotted Michelle in the Tsawwassen terminal parking lot, we exchanged quick smiles, loaded my bags into the back of her mom’s SUV, and hugged like old friends reuniting after years apart. Within minutes, the nerves had melted. We were already laughing and sharing race stories, realizing we’d both run through the rugged terrain of Saguenay region during the Ultra Trail Harricana du Canada (UTHC). It’s a race we agreed deserves far more recognition - technical, challenging, but easily one of the most breathtaking trail experiences we've encountered.

At the border, our conversation turned serious for a moment. We briefly strategized about how to fly through without questions. While I’m queer, I’m also a white, cis woman - and that comes with privilege, especially in moments like this. We decided to keep our true purpose for travel - a queer running retreat - vague. Despite our best efforts to keep things simple, the border officer somehow turned our interaction into a conversation about the biblical Leah and Rachel. I smiled awkwardly, hoping this wasn’t some kind of test, and quietly thanked the universe when we were waved through. The hum of the tires filled the car for a moment before the landscape began to shift, the tension eventually lifting as the scenery took over.

Soon, we were winding along roads that followed wide riverbeds, the kind where the stones look like they’ve been smoothed by centuries of meltwater. The air felt heavy with that familiar dampness I always associate with the coast, the kind that smells of moss, and cedar after rainfall. The towering evergreens, lush and layered, reminded me of the island, of the temperate rainforest that shapes so much of the West Coast’s rhythm.

But as we drove further south, crossing deeper into Washington state, the forest began to subtly change. The trees opened up. Deciduous leaves flashed yellows and oranges, catching the late-day light and scattering it across the road. It was as if we were driving through a slow transformation, from the dense, misty green of the Pacific Northwest to a softer, more varied palette of early autumn.

The road bent closer to the foothills of Mount Baker Wilderness Area, and for a moment, I forgot entirely about my earlier nerves. Michelle and I fell into that easy kind of silence that comes when two people are content - both of us watching the scenery shift, the forest breathing around us, knowing we were getting closer to something special. We passed small mountain villages, where I assumed many visitors must have stayed during their winter skiing retreats, imagining this place in a different light.

Photo credits: Christopher Rempe

A long road up was the last of our driving before pulling up to the lodge. At this point, I gave way to excitement. The snow covered peaks in the landscape, and the alpine put my body and mind on pause. The first thing I saw walking into the lodge, was the Out Trails sign - every participant’s name displayed. There was something so grounding about it, like arriving somewhere you didn’t realize you’d been missing.

One by one, people were arriving. Hugging, laughing, and introducing themselves, voices bouncing around the wooden lodge. We started finding out each others other hobbies, like skiing for example, and began the planning the next time when we would meet up, even though we were just scratching the surface of getting to know one another. The energy was contagious - that kind of giddy anticipation that only happens when you know you’re surrounded by people who get it.

Photo credits: Christopher Rempe

One of the first moments that stood out was Ryan Montgomery’s introduction. Ryan is a queer professional ultra trail runner, and his warmth and authenticity immediately set the tone for the weekend. He didn’t just welcome us - he made space for us, and sprinkled it with sparkles and glitter. Following, Michelle and Dez, put up one of the remaining pride flags, and high-fived each other after their installation. I knew then, I was in the right place.

Photo credits: Christopher Rempe

This weekend was an affinity space - where support wasn’t performative. It wasn’t just about running, or about rainbow flags (though there were plenty of those!!). It was in the small things - in sharing pronouns without hesitation, in the care people took asking about your story, the smiles at the thought of trail running in a new space, and in the laughter echoing through the dining hall as we ate well in community that nourished both our bodies and our hearts.

The evening glow over the mountains was the cue for resting our eyes. The early wake-up meant that our bodies needed rest for our first big day. We are each climbing our own mountains tomorrow.

Photo Credits: Leah Fulton