From Comfort to Courage, My Time in the Wilderness

Before I set foot on the ranch this summer, my life was structured and familiar. I was studying Hotel Management in Switzerland, living with two of my best friends during the week, spending weekends either at home with my family and friends or at our mountain cabin. I spent much of my free time at the stables, riding for pleasure after years of competing in jumping. I loved my routine. I loved comfort. The idea of life without running water, phone signal, or a soft bed was completely foreign to me.

Still, something called me back to the ranch. I had already spent four weeks there doing office work last summer, but I wanted more. I wanted to learn about horse training, pack trips, and life in the Canadian wilderness. At the same time, I wanted to challenge myself. I wasn’t yet someone who easily stepped into discomfort. But I was ready to try.

That commitment was tested early. On my very first pack trip, we rode straight into a storm, soaked, cold, and far from anything familiar. But something clicked. As the rain poured and thunder rolled, I tuned in completely. My horse and I became one team, focused and calm in the chaos. That moment was a turning point. I realized I didn’t need to feel in control to be capable. I just needed to keep going.

But the real trial came later on my next pack trip when Ranger escaped his halter and ran away. I was alone at Eldorado Camp while the rest of the group were on a day ride, with no reception, no backup, and a rising sense of panic. I searched for hours, calling his name, trying to stay calm as fear crept in. I knew it wasn’t my fault, but I still felt responsible. The bear spray accident during this time that left me blind for 15 minutes was the hardest. I broke down. But I kept going.

We later found out Ranger had made his own way back to the ranch. So, the next day when we finished our trip, I hiked all the way back to the ranch, completely drained but determined to prove to myself, and others, that I could handle it.

Along the way, I was shaped by mentors, guides who taught me how to pack horses, stake them, care for injuries, and even shoe them. I also got a good look into Western horse training. It was hands-on and straightforward, and although it’s not something I’d apply one-to-one at home, it gave me a fresh perspective. I appreciated learning a different style, it’s always valuable to see new ways of working with animals.

And while many others from English riding backgrounds say they now prefer the Western way, I realized I still love what I grew up with. Riding mountain trails was incredible, wild, raw, and real, but back home, riding feels like art. I love the precision, the focus, the teamwork, and yes, even that my tack is shiny. For me, galloping across fields and jumping fences is where I feel most in sync. That doesn’t make one style better than the other, it just means I’ve found what speaks to me. Still, the cowgirl experience gave me something I never had before, and I’ll carry that with me.

This journey gave me clarity. I came home with three goals: to stay connected to the strength I found, to continue growing with horses in my own way, and to stay grounded in who I am, direct, honest, and true to my values.

Now, I hope to share what I’ve learned with the people closest to me. I want to encourage my friends and family to trust themselves more, to step out of their comfort zones, and to connect more deeply with nature. The bush taught me a new kind of respect for the planet and for simplicity. Even if it’s not my everyday lifestyle, it gave me something lasting.

This journey didn’t turn me into someone else. It helped me come home more fully to who I’ve always been.

Lisa, Switzerland

See more of Lisa’s journey in this video.