The Hills We Choose to Die On: Rethinking Outdoor Inclusivity

- Savannah Bergeron

With a background in tech branding, I’ve always been skeptical of personas and target audiences—because none of it is real. When companies only focus on their perceived existing audience, they miss out on the people who don’t yet know about them. This leads to a self-fulfilling prophecy of assumptions and fake rules. As I began researching lighter gear I’ve seen these same assumptions pasted into the branding and ads for ultralight hiking products. My advice to all companies is the same:

Build the audience you want, not just the one you think you have—because you’re probably wrong anyway.

The Changing Face of the Outdoors

Most of my gear is over 15 years old, uncovered from REI garage sales back when the getting was good and a broke bartender could still access quality outdoor equipment. These items are well-loved—and heavy. No longer a bartender, I’m still hustling to invest in gear that works (often buying used for good deals and because sustainability matters). These days I’m older, more experienced, and my wilderness group has also evolved. 

I’ve noticed that my female hiking pals and I have stopped telling our parents where we’re going until after the trip. Their built-in bias tells us: That’s too dangerous. You don’t know what you’re doing. Take your brother, he knows what he’s doing. But here’s the truth:

• Life is dangerous. Life as a woman is even more dangerous. But statistically, I’m more likely to be harmed by a man I know than by a bear. We all know the meme.

• My brother is actually an avid outdoorsman and survivalist. He’s taught me (and many others) a lot—but he also knows that the best way to learn is by getting out there and figuring it out. What I like to call on the job training. None of us ever truly knows what we’re doing at first. Only experience and repetition build confidence in dangerous situations.

The Power of Representation in Outdoor Gear Branding

Companies reflect societal biases, often unintentionally. That doesn’t make them bad, it just means they might not have had their perspectives challenged. Often small companies are on shoestring budgets, marketing is expensive, and founders will use the people around them while they work to get their products seen. I’m here with good news! Companies can make more money by being inclusive.  

I’m passionate about supporting small, local businesses that create sustainable, inclusive products without burning the planet. As I got more into ultralight gear, I noticed a pattern in the ads I was seeing: nearly all featured rugged, bearded white men staring majestically off cliffs. The assumption? That I was shopping for a man in my life. If you got to know my husband, you’d know he hikes with me very rarely and gets a bit grumpy pants. We don’t call him Raging Turtle for nothing. You’re far more likely to find him 70 miles in on some asinine bike trek that I would have abandoned on the 5th mile. We joke that we have different sports but somehow we make it work. I started tracking these companies, digging into their websites and ads, asking:

• Do they show women at all?

• If so, are the women actually using the gear, or are they just standing near it like props?

• Is the company founded by women, or does it at least show that women hold meaningful decision-making roles within the company?

The results were grim:

Shoutout to Chicken Tramper (Brand I) for setting the standard <3 

The Outdoors Is for Everyone

William O. Douglas, a flawed but legendary conservationist, fought to protect American wilderness—not just for bearded white guys, but for everyone. My first backpacking trip was in the Ozette Triangle, one of the wild places he helped preserve. That beach changed me. It’s a perfect introduction to backpacking, proving that nearly anybody can take on the challenge, confront self-doubt, and fall in love with the experience.

Gear That Works for Every Body

Inclusivity matters in the outdoors because being outside is about as primal of an activity that we can access. Every human on this planet shares a bond with being outside, doing something hard, and feeling a certain way when their body and their body alone got them somewhere beautiful. There’s a reason we’re moved when we see mountains, waterways, wild animals, sunrises. That reason is a bond that we should all have access to. If I had never had that survivalist brother (a beardy white guy!) bully me into a backpacking trip, I would have stayed happy with campgrounds and beautiful drives. But it takes an inclusive community to help those around us get outside and learn how to challenge our bodies in the best ways. 

I’ve since led several meaningful Ozette trips—one was all women, three of them on their first backpacking trip. We hit our limits, packed too much food, and laughed harder than ever (a cappella nue metal for life!). You can feel the wonder of sacred lands and grasp the sorrow of lost history in so many of them. Another trip included my then-4-year-old daughter and two of her young friends, with four adults managing all three of them. Now, my daughter dreams of visiting a “mythological” lake I made up in a bedtime story. It’s home to Warlock, a wild rabbit who eats people that litter. Warlock’s best friend is a shark, and I think she lives in the Goat Rocks. I can’t wait to take my daughter there.

As she gets older, I’ve been able to return to high places. My wilderness partners are mothers, women, queer, silly, curvy, generous, lovely, and adventurers of all kinds. This year, my cousin and I completed the Enchantments Traverse—20 miles and 5,000 feet of vertical gain in a single day. This meant a lot to us. As teenagers, we were chubby outcasts who spent more time on AOL than outside. Feeling included in the hiking community has taken us a long time and we want to help people get over those feelings of nervousness or un-belonging. When we see someone struggling in the early steps of a trail our reaction is joy. Joy to see someone being vulnerable in a community that isn’t always welcoming. Joy to see someone trying something hard, really hard, and knowing that each time they try, they will get better. Just like we did. Finding something new to love about themselves and appreciate in their incredible body. 

My daughter experienced her first bout of exclusion on the trail last year. She was 5 and some boys told her she couldn’t go up the steep trail at a y (trail here is generous, it was a boot path on the side of a cliff that ordinarily I would avoid because of erosion) and needed to go around to the safer trail. Their reasoning was that they were expert climbers and had climbed in the gym, she was too little to do it. Well she sure as hell sent it, maintaining three points of contact, just as I had taught her, assessing the route and safely getting herself up the top with no help. That smile we shared at the top still brings tears to my eyes. When we stop telling women what their bodies can do and let them decide for themselves, isn’t it something? 

The Future of Outdoor Gear

How many women reading this started out with or still use a Gregory? At some point in time Gregory became the pack that REI pushed for women. Gregory makes great packs, but they’re heavy (mine clocks in at seven pounds!). My current Seek Outside pack is two times lighter, which isn’t even as light as you can go but I like some framing and the adaptability of this pack makes it a dream. A dream that I can even pass on if I’m ever ready because the next owner can easily make it fit to their body with a few adjustments. Side note: when you buy a pack designed for lugging out chunks of elk it also works great for tossing your kid in there in comfort. This is the type of adaptability I am looking for in new gear.  

Outdoor companies need to recognize that hikers, climbers, and adventurers aren’t a monolith. We hunt, fish, cycle, or any number of things and will want to buy gear that works for multiple ventures–and will last for many years. We want durable gear that adapts with us over time. Instead of chasing the same bearded fish, why not reach the communities that are eager for gear that fits their needs?

Supporting small, innovative brands means backing local jobs, sustainable practices, and businesses that genuinely care. Many of the small companies I’ve reached out to have responded enthusiastically to the data, eager to expand their audience. Inclusivity isn’t just the right thing to do—it’s good business.

The Trail Is for Everyone

A proper wilderness adventure isn’t complete until you hit the fear ceiling, have a good cry, and be convinced you’re about to die before realizing that your body alone can get you through. Maybe it’s your first time on scree. Maybe that self-arrest was terrifying. Maybe you have six more miles to go and you’ve already hit your limit. You come out stronger and more resilient from it, we should all have that experience. Learning how to really love ourselves for making it back out. And to give my parents credit, maybe those are stories that no parent wants to hear regardless of their kids gender. 

Just like we underestimate our physical capabilities, we underestimate the power of our voices. I hope my small efforts help small brands reach more people. I hope more people find gear that fits, made by companies that respect them. And I hope we stop assuming who the outdoors belongs to–it belongs to all of us.

And don’t litter. Warlock might eat you.

-Savannah Bergeron

You can follow progress of this project, and even use the data I’m collecting for yourself at dyingonhills.com.