How to build a mountain adventure goal list that actually changes you.
words :: Bronwyn Biro
Last year, I decided to structure my time in the mountains differently. I set myself a simple goal: 30 adventures before I turned 30. I was tired of starting each summer with grand plans, only to blink and find myself in August with most of them still untouched.
My adventure list had a few rules. If it didn’t excite me, it was out. If it sounded reasonable, I was suspicious. If it required learning something new, it went straight on the list. And if it supported bigger objectives down the line, it stayed—even if it wasn’t exciting on its own.
I was tired of starting each summer with grand plans, only to blink and find myself in August with most of them still untouched.
I wasn’t looking for items I could easily tick off. I wanted goals that felt slightly out of reach, the kind that demand more than you think you’re capable of and change you in the process.
It worked, but more importantly, it changed the way I approached goals. I now use these guidelines when building my own list.
It’s far too easy to get caught in routine, where comfort quietly takes the place of challenge. I’ve had years where I mostly repeated my favourite hikes. There’s nothing wrong with that, and time outside is restorative no matter the difficulty. But there’s a difference between movement and progression. A shift happens when you choose objectives that push you into new terrain, or ask a little more of you than you’re used to.
The preparation that comes with those objectives is often where the real growth happens. I’ve felt it in moments like rappelling down a moulin on Bow Glacier, navigating a maze of crevasses on Mount Alexandra and swinging rental ice axes on Mount Fay.
A shift happens when you choose objectives that push you into new terrain, or ask a little more of you than you’re used to.
That progression feels more accessible when it’s paired with preparation. I started with courses in areas that interested me: avalanche safety training for backcountry skiing, an intro ice climbing course to open up more alpine routes and crevasse rescue training to move more confidently on complex glacier terrain. (Ideally, without ever needing to use it.)
Not every day can be a big sufferfest, like my attempt at the Canmore Quad, a 16-hour link-up of four peaks around Canmore that slowly devolved from trail running into a shuffle. A long, humbling shuffle.
Sometimes the real win is just getting out for an easy run after work, or repeating a local hike to stay consistent. The big objectives don’t happen without the small ones.
A list like this should serve as inspiration and guidance when you’re wondering what to do with a weekend off. It shouldn’t become a burden that has you cancelling plans just to tick something off. If something on the list no longer feels relevant, let it go. Be mindful of your time and energy, and remember that the goal is still to have fun.
It’s not about doing more or doing harder things. What matters is what it keeps you saying yes to.
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