When the Outdoors Doesn’t Feel Like It’s For You
I’ve adjusted my Hijab for the fifth time now.
It’s not out of place, but my hands keep returning to it anyway, smoothing, pinning, rechecking.
My feet keep moving forward, one in front of the other, but my mind is elsewhere. I’ve already dissected my outfit on the drive in. The baggy grey sweatpants felt practical at home. Here, surrounded by the girls in shorts and the other campers in effortless layers, they feel oversized in the wrong way—like I didn’t get the dress code memo.
For some reason, the structure of our tent is slightly slouched, like we missed a step somewhere. The food stacked in the back of our pickup truck feels excessive. I’ve never packed for something like this before. The shoes I’m wearing are too plain and the jacket my mom chose for me is too bright of a red. The way we’re setting up—too slow, too noticeable, too unfamiliar. Is there a more “correct” way to do this that we haven’t figured out?
Suddenly, I’m spiralling.
Still, my hands are busy, helping pitch a tent that already looks too small for all of us.
Did we bring a cooking pan? Why did we bring a cooking pan?
Are there marshmallows for s’mores, or did we forget something that obvious?
Are we being too loud? Why can’t I hear anyone else?
Are we even at the right campsite? This is embarrassing. We’re doing too much. I knew this was going to be a mistake.
It all stacks, one thought on top of another, until the conclusion feels inevitable: we don’t belong here.
My thoughts run wild while I find my misplaced blanket. My sister is scanning the tree line for dogs she swears she heard barking. My brother is focused on tying down a tarp with more confidence than he should have. My cousin has already found a squirrel to run away from. My parents are setting up dinner like this is routine. Where’s that darn blanket?!
Later that night, I lay in the midst of snores, half-zipped sleeping bags, sleeping pads overlapping each other and the agonizingly loud chirps from the crickets outside. Someone shifts and everyone feels it. I share a blanket with my sister (I forgot mine at home), and I’m snuggled in a three-person tent with six people, spending my first night under the stars.
It was my first time camping.
I don’t know if we set anything up properly. I don’t know if that’s what it was supposed to feel like. I don’t know if other people in the campsites around us were more comfortable, more prepared, more certain.
But there we were.
And for all the time I spent worrying about whether we belonged, nothing had actually gone wrong.
Becoming confident outdoors is a step no adventurer has skipped. No matter how grand their expeditions are, how fancy their gear is, how sharp their instincts are. Everyone has felt like they don’t know what they’re doing at first. Everyone has been through what I was going through: that overwhelming sense of dread that I was an impostor out there. The assumption that I should already know what I’m doing—on my first camping trip.
But don’t get me wrong. We did do our research. We made plans and schedules. We took safety equipment and bear spray. We followed all the Leave No Trace principles. We even assigned duties to everyone. We left no stone unturned.
And yes, I ended up having the time of my life.
The Real Reasons You Might Not Feel Confident Outdoors
Being confident in an outdoor setting is often tied to how you look or how well you do activities. The hesitation usually comes from uncertainty—about what’s expected, what could go wrong and how visible those mistakes might feel.
You may be feeling hesitant or unsure about the outdoors because…
You don’t have enough reference points yet
Confidence and familiarity go hand in hand. If you’ve never set up a tent, followed a trail map or packed for a daytrip, every step out there requires active decision-making. That added cognitive weight makes the experience feel harder than it is.
I hesitated going outdoors for years before I became comfortable enough to just lace up my shoes and go on a spontaneous hike. I didn’t want to look or do anything “wrong.” But the truth is, I just didn’t have enough experience, or reference points, to rely on.
You’re overestimating what “normal” looks like
Social media and outdoor marketing tend to highlight advanced trips, specialized gear and highly experienced people. In reality, most outdoor users stick to short, well-marked trails and simple setups. What you see online is not the standard. I still stick to my plain sneakers and sweatpants to this day.
You’re treating preparation like a test instead of a process
Many beginners delay starting because they feel they need to “learn everything first.” In practice, most outdoor skills—like pacing, layering clothing or choosing what to pack—are learned through experience and repetition, not excessive studying and research. This often leads to overpacking or buying unnecessary items.
In truth, we did bring too much food on our first camping trip. We realized that on day two. But we kept note of it, and now, we only take a quarter of what we used to. If we hadn’t made that small mistake on out first trip, maybe we never would have realized.
You don’t see yourself represented in outdoor spaces
If you’re from a background that isn’t commonly reflected in outdoor media or culture, it can create an added layer of self-awareness. This doesn’t affect your ability to participate, but it can affect how comfortable you feel while doing so.
Take it from me, being a South Asian Hijab-wearing woman outdoors isn’t for the weak. But I belong, just as much as you do.
You’re interpreting normal discomfort as a warning sign
Being unsure, slightly inefficient or slower than others is part of any new activity. These aren’t indicators that something is wrong—they’re part of the learning curve.
When I went on a hike with my friends for the first time, I realized that they were just as clueless as I was. Somehow, I became the leader of the pack, having hiked a few more times than them. The learning curve is real, and everyone learns at their own pace. Cut yourself some slack!
How to Build the Confidence You Need
My confidence came from experience, hard-earned wisdom and a mindset that the outdoors is supposed to be fun, not stressful. The goal is not to eliminate uncertainty immediately, but to reduce it over time by gaining experience in manageable situations.
Start with low-risk environments to limit the extra decision-making. Choose short, clearly marked trails or established campgrounds. This removes the need for advanced navigation or route planning and allows you to focus on the basics and having fun.
Then, understand that taking longer to set up a tent, packing more than necessary or needing extra breaks are normal in the beginning. Building in extra time reduces pressure and allows you to adjust without stress. For me, it helps to bring someone along. Figuring things out together is so much better than doing it alone. When you’re confident enough, go solo!
Accept that you’ll make mistakes. My first time hiking on BC’s strenuous Grouse Grind trail, I almost lost consciousness because I underestimated the trail elevation. My first time kayaking, my mom and dad’s kayak tipped over, and they went headfirst into the water (don’t worry, it was a guided trip, they were still close to the shore and we laugh our heads off every time we think of it.)
Once you accept that mistakes happen, you’ll realize the value of going out there and trying new things anyways. Feeling scared or a bit hesitant shouldn’t stop you from exploring the endless possibilities of outdoor adventure. What if you miss out on a life-changing expedition? What if you miss out on your next?
At first, remember that your goal is to go out there, do your thing and come back home safely. Speed, distance and difficulty come after. You don’t want to come back traumatized, out of shape and injured. You’ll never want to adventure again!
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, know that you do belong. You deserve to be out there no matter your age, gender or skill level. You can be a hiker that is only comfortable with short, low-elevation trails or one that craves big Everest-like expeditions. Either way, you are equally allowed to be out there. Confidence comes from recognizing your worth.
The trees, sky and Earth do not judge. And most often, neither do other outdoor adventure folks. Be you, be brave and let yourself have fun. Outdoor adventure isn’t about conquering big feats or looking the part. It’s about enjoying yourself and the landscapes that await you.
