I was worried about the what-ifs. A daredevil stunt in my 50s helped me overcome my fears

My married man, sis and her hubby were posing around our campfire at our cabin in the woods, trying to convince me to go to deadened Man’s Hill the next day. The journey from our cabin in central Alberta to the destination was 16 kilometres — about a two-hour ride through the bush on a fairly decent trail.

My husband has often talked about how breathtaking the view is from Dead Man's Hill.

But the last three kilometers included steep hills with deep ruts that were difficult to navigate, especially on a quad. It was well outside my comfort zone.

I could feel the knot in my stomach tightening. My mind screamed, "No way! It may be unsafe. You might get hurt."

Beyond that, I wasn’t sure I had the strength or energy to handle the ride. I feared speed, steep inclines and unpredictable terrain that could lead to injury, both physical and emotional.

Looking back, I realize some of these fears stemmed from long-held beliefs about responsibility. As the eldest child, I had always felt a duty to protect my sisters and set a good example. This mindset was deeply ingrained in me.

I also just wanted to belong. At age seven, my family moved from Bonnyville, Alta., where there is a French-speaking community, to Evansburg, Alta., where English was the primary language. I struggled academically since French was my first language. I was often pulled out of class for extra reading practice and I mispronounced words, which led to teasing. I would say "close the light" instead of "turning off the light." The struggle to fit in was real.

Fear has been a constant presence in my life: fear of not being liked, fear of crowds, fear of being alone. As a recovering people-pleaser and perfectionist, fear and worry controlled my decisions. I was afraid of anything that might cause harm.

Over the years, I’ve come to understand that fear has a purpose. It keeps us from danger, such as stepping in front of a moving car. But it also holds us back from growth and adventure.

For years, I heard stories at family gatherings about Dead Man’s Hill — tales of sleds flipping, quads rolling and other terrifying incidents. My belief was clear: No, thank you! I had no desire to attempt it.

But I was also tired of fear.

That fear was blocking me from living the life of adventure I desired.

It took courage to report my sexual assault. 608 days later, everything fell apart

When my kids graduated high school and began their own journeys, I felt a stirring inside me. I had been a stay-at-home mom for 28 years, a role I cherished.

But that season had passed, and I knew this next season I was meant for something else. I loved learning, helping others, and guiding people through fear and limiting beliefs. That’s why I launched my coaching and speaking business dedicated to helping women renew their mindset, overcome fear and embrace they are not done yet in their purpose.

When I was invited to speak at an online event about self-sabotage and fear, doubt crept in.

Am I smart enough? Am I capable? But I accepted the opportunity because I knew it aligned with my purpose. I worked through my fear of public speaking, listened to my heart, and applied what I had learned. In doing so, I helped others do the same.

Putting myself out there was terrifying, but I didn’t want fear to control me anymore.

Dead Man’s Hill was the perfect test to apply the coaching tools I teach others.

"Practice what you preach, Nita," I said to myself.

My husband assured me it was safe and we would go slow. My sister, bless her heart, offered to let me ride with her. That sounded inviting.

I was nervous but also excited.

I recalled a quote I often share in my coaching: Do something that scares you every day. I decided to do it afraid and see what happened.

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The next day, we set off for Dead Man’s Hill.

Riding behind my sister, I took in the golden-orange leaves, the crisp autumn air, and the sun peeking through the trees. It was a beautiful day, and I felt grateful to be there.

As we ascended toward the viewpoint, I noticed the incline, and my energy shifted. Fear tightened its grip.

Then, we made a sharp left turn.

Suddenly, the right-side tires of our quad lifted off the ground. My heart pounded.

My mind raced. Please, let us get out of this, I prayed.

The wheels slammed back down, and my sister stopped the quad. We were only two kilometres from the viewpoint. I looked up to see my husband’s wide eyes and his arms raised in alarm. A cloud of white smoke billowed around us — a result of the leaking oil.

My nerves were shot. I wanted to quit and walk the rest of the way, but my husband convinced me I could do it.

After catching our breath, we continued the last stretch of the journey, shaken but determined.

A thousand what-ifs ran through my mind, but I stopped myself. Instead, I focused on gratitude — for my sister’s quick thinking and our safety.

As we rounded the final corner, the view took my breath away.

I paused, took a deep breath and felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I had missed out on this stunning view for so long because fear held me back.

The more I face my fears, the more I experience life differently.

I haven’t fully conquered fear, and that’s OK. I know that I open myself to beauty, growth and new experiences whenever I choose courage over comfort.

So, thank you, Dead Man’s Hill, for being so alive in your beauty.

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Freelance contributor

Nita Knapp is coach, speaker and facilitator living in Mayerthorpe, Alta. She and her husband live in their country home, where they enjoy spending time with their four children, five grandchildren and horses.

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