I'm writing this from the banks of the Yukon River, a week into a trip that's testing more than my paddling and wilderness skills. I came here to deepen my bushcraft and tandem knowledge, but one of the hardest thing to learn and maintain (at least in my personal opinion)...
Is staying teachable.
On the first day, we launched our canoes into the Yukon at Whitehorse, this is by far the biggest travel based expedition I've done and I'll be honest, I felt I was the most inexperienced of the group.
In the days before I arrived, I'd been through a few difficult things back home - emotionally draining stuff. I stepped into this journey already feeling a little fractured, and I didn't realise how that would affect my ability to show up and learn.
Then, while in country I experienced another situation with a person on the street in Whitehorse that also knocked my confidence.
That first day on the water, even small bits of feedback about paddling or steering left me making excuses as to why I did that paddle stroke, just trying to debuff and justify anything I wasn't absorbing anything. I wasn't asking questions. I wasn't admitting I was struggling. I just went quiet.
It wasn't that I didn’t want to learn. It was that I was ashamed I didn't already know.
What Brené Brown Taught Me About That Moment
Brené Brown talks about how shame shuts us down. It makes us defensive, withdrawn, afraid to be seen. Teachability - true teachability - requires vulnerability. It means being open, asking questions, and saying, "I don’t know."
But when we're caught in shame, we do the opposite.
That's exactly what happened to me. My shame response whispered: You’re behind. You're not good enough. Don't let them see you struggle. So I masked. I performed. And in doing so, I blocked my own ability to grow.
Because you can’t be teachable and self-protecting at the same time.
Bushcraft as a Mirror
Bushcraft is humbling. You get instant feedback from the land: the fire lights, or it doesn't. The canoe glides, or it spins out. There's no ego here - just consequences and learning.
That's why I say bushcraft is more than just survival skills. It’s a mirror. It reflects back exactly where you are emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. And it asks for your full presence.
When Things Shifted
The next day, something softened. Maybe it was the rhythm of the river. Maybe it was someone kindly asking if i could receive some tips and advice. Or maybe it was just that I stopped trying to prove anything.
I started to ask more questions. I let myself be curious again. I watched my fellow travelers with wonder instead of awe. And in doing so, I rediscovered something that shame had stolen: joy.
Teachability Is a Skill
Being teachable isn’t a default state - it's a skill. One that requires humility, resilience, and the courage to say "I don’t know yet."
And it’s just as essential in bushcraft as your knife, tarp, or firesteel. Because if you can’t receive feedback - if you can’t allow yourself to get it wrong - then you'll miss the biggest lessons the land has to offer.
I came to the Yukon to learn wilderness and canoe skills, as well as making the mammoth journey from Whitehorse to Dawson city, steeped in history. But the first, most humbling lesson I've had is that being in the right mindset to be open to learning is a practice in itself. One that takes self-compassion, courage, and a willingness to sit in discomfort.
And maybe, just maybe, the hardest skill in all this isn't about technique at all.
It's about remaining open when your instinct is to shut down. It’s about staying teachable - even when it feels like the riskiest thing in the world.
That's the main thing so far in my bushcraft journey that is one of the most important skills.