For nearly 50 years, Patagonia has given a damn about people and the environment.

And through that work, they've learned that knowledge is foundational,

transcending physical space and nodding generations together.

Knowledge invites change and forms the bedrock of communities.

In a new series of stories, Patagonia brings us the voices of elders,

young people, mentors and teachers. Stories grounded in wild places and activism.

Knowledge is a vessel. To be shared, kept, evolved and passed on.

Find more at Patagonia.com slash stories.

You're listening to The Derbacteria, a production of Duck Tape Then Beer,

with additional support from Kuat Racks because you love your bike and athletic greens,

the daily drink for healthier you.

I had camped before but never alone. So naturally, I made plans to go big for my first solo adventure.

I was a budding outdoors woman, filled with wonderlust and a big imagination,

ready to push my edge. While my all-triego was a nomadic dirtback,

whimsyly roaming between mountain tops. Reality looked more like a cubicle-bound,

type A data analyst in the infancy of outdoor experiences.

My wilderness resume was light, one-nose program, some trail races and too many visits to RRI.

This solo trip represented an opportunity to finally step into the person I wanted to become.

With three weeks between jobs in a suitcase bulging without door gear, I boarded a plane from Texas to

Washington, intending to use every second to explore the northwest. For a destination, a Olympic national park.

In my everyday life, I am a planner, but for this vacation, I chose to skip that park,

on account of being a bit naive and wanting to embody that carefree outdoorsy vibe.

...