Patagonia Untamed

I was twenty-one years old when I first walked the fabled land of ice and fire in Patagonia, and I was twenty-six years old when I discovered the work of Glennon Doyle. Both were formative experiences in my life.

It is my greatest pleasure to announce Honest Heart Journey’s pilot program to Patagonia in November 2025; words can’t quite capture the depth of emotion I feel at the prospect of exploring Glennon Doyle’s ideas from her book Untamed while sharing my heart home with a group of women. It will be a trip to remember.

I first landed in Patagonia, fresh out of college, with the intention of staying for a couple of months and then returning home to Colorado. It took me five years to leave, and still my heart is constantly wandering back to those peaks, those rivers, those wide-open, breathtaking skies. Patagonia gave me the strength to nurture a small seed of bravery I had been cultivating as a young adult. Patagonia also gave me my dearest friend and soul sister. Underneath a moonlit sky, we watched the headlamps of climbers inch their way up Fitz Roy and found our way into a lifelong friendship. Patagonia exposed me to myself and showed me what elements of self were no longer serving me. I found it remarkably easy to leave those pieces of myself discarded along the shores of glacial lakes and to walk into a different, more authentic version of myself.

[Insert dramatic eye roll on the part of the reader. It sounds super cliché, I recognize that. Sometimes, though, the truth really is that Disney-perfect. If you doubt me, I encourage you to sign up for this trip. You might surprise yourself. Or rather, Patagonia might surprise you. I know it did me.]

I am not sure I had the words to describe what happened to me during my time spent in the southern reaches of the world before reading Glennon’s work. Yet, when I discovered her book Untamed, I devoured it—reading it over and over again—drinking in her words, reordering the events of my life, and seeing things through a new lens. It makes me feel almost giddy when I think about having the opportunity to do this together: as a community of women, as individuals, as human beings who perhaps could be living a little more freely, a little more authentically.

But there is a big roadblock to coming on this trip—the elephant in the room.

We are women.

Our modus operandi is to care for other people, and rarely do we put ourselves first. I can almost feel you asking, Isn’t it selfish to head to Patagonia to hike through some of the world’s wildest mountains and drink hot tea with sisters along the banks of ice-cold lakes, watching ravens wheel through the sky?

What a gift we are to our families and our communities because we are so good at giving of ourselves to others—our time, our love, our patience, our energy. We are caretakers. We are mothers. We are sisters and lovers. And we know that we can hold space, heal, and love others until the end of time. But what about you? What about me? What about us?

Glennon tells us in her book, “Hard work is important. So are play and non-productivity. My worth is tied not to my productivity but to my existence. I am worthy of rest.” What if rest looked like sisterhood in Patagonia? What if play looked like galavanting through the mountains or swimming in lakes we have only ever imagined as distant and untouchable places? She also says, “This life is mine alone. So I have stopped asking people for directions to places they’ve never been.” My dear sisters, it’s time to step off the map and into the untamed wild of both our imaginations and the atlas. After all, why not? It might just transform your life.