Fortunately my experience has been that it is not employers and co-workers who are resistant to seeing women in leadership roles. Quality tour and guiding companies know that good judgment, experience and attitude play a greater role in hiring a leader then does gender. Instead it is clients, men and women who arrive nervous and excited to experience an adventure, whether it’s on a rock, in mountains or on a river, who have envisioned a strong, fearless leader who does not have breasts.

I led my first trip for a group of women 20 years ago. Today I organize and lead trips for women over 40. Along with being great fun, these exclusive groups allow women unique opportunity to see other women in positions of power and control, to witness a group of women working out problems and dealing with host of challenges encountered on a river trip or while traveling abroad.

By supporting each other and being open to seeing women in leadership roles women help each other to succeed and achieve more than they thought possible. As more and more women become visible in outdoor recreation and leadership I suspect day isn’t too far off when we’re met with exclamation “OH GREAT, A WOMAN!” As for fellow on canoe trip in New Zealand; I had to rescue him and his canoe after he flipped in first rapid, but it wasn’t until I barbecued a perfect medium rare steak that he was truly impressed. Go figure.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Debbie Jacobs, founder and president of Explorations in Travel, http://www.exploretravel.com, organizes outdoor and cultural adventures for women over 40 and arranges individual volunteer placements in Latin America, South Pacific and Nepal. She lives in southern Vermont with too many dogs. She can be contacted at explore@sover.net. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Copyright 2000-by Debbie Jacobs This article may be reprinted as long as: 1.) It is reprinted in its entirety 2.) The byline remains intact

As I grow older I notice that my wife has those same looks that my mom does, and it scares me. I thought I had seen every look that there was to be seen, at least once. I have a mother, I have a wife, and for extra torture in my life God saw to it that I have a thirteen-year-old daughter whose face is ALWAYS twisted into some kind of look or another. Of course, I am wrong about knowing all of looks, but I’m ALWAYS wrong, and old and fat and bald—just ask my daughter. Or don’t ask her; she’ll tell you anyway.

I know looks better than most folks, and I’m pretty good at calming down tense situations. I’d even say that I am an expert. If a woman is sad, I can do a little cheering-up magic, or, at very least, just make her mad enough to want to kick me. Face it: I’m blessed. But problem with being an expert is that sooner or later you’ll get humbled.

There is a certain look on a mother’s face that a child will never see, and I’m glad for it. I saw it for first time other day at a funeral, and it nearly broke my heart. Children see all looks that a mother has to offer, except one—the one they wear when you die before they do.

I could find no words to speak to this woman, nor could my eyes find courage to stay off of ground. I wasn’t alone in shadow of cowardice, which told me that she was. And though there were others who have shared her experience, she would remain alone. Time would heal—that’s what preacher said—but nothing would be same. Everyone knows that.

As I consider my own fragile relationship with my mother, it is clear to me that this distance will ultimately separate us. Who of us, I wonder, will cross this void first? Never will I hold look that woman at funeral bore, for I know nothing of bond a mother feels between herself and her child, only that which a child feels for his mother. Is look that a child carries different from what I have seen? I do not know and do not wish to. Denial lends but weak hands where reality lives, yet softens its bitter edges none less.

Do I prepare myself for this face to come? Will being prepared enable me to avoid another slide down a wall into black? Perhaps, but I fear that this embrace may take me further into darkness that I hope to avoid.

If I listen to my heart, I know that there is but one path in this life. The path is of present, where I know my mother to be, and I will walk with her as far as trail leads. Anything else would be a lie—or perhaps a sin—if I did not appreciate what life has given me: my mother.