Don’t let others wander alone: No matter who you are, being a better ski partner means supporting your partners who menstruate…even you if you’re not someone who menstruates.
A knowledge drop about menstruating in the backcountry. Not someone who menstruates? Great. I love that for you. Here are some things to know if you want to be a supportive ski partner.
Like many of you, I love skiing. I was lucky enough to grow up with this love. Not, however, in the way my family traveled to Deer Valley for Christmas, but in my dad-was-on-ski-patrol-and-stuck-me-in-lessons-as-free-childcare kind of way.
Speed up life’s film reel, and I remember attending my first TGR premiere. It was back when they put up a screen in a vacant Teton Village parking lot. Everyone stood and watched, bundled up and buzzing with enthusiasm for the impending ski season. It was snowing hard. I watched the huge screen as dude after dude hucked himself off cliffs and slashed powder fields. I knew I wanted to do that, too. But where were the women?
It took a few years, but I discovered why on my first winter camping trip at 16. I was with my teenage boyfriend, his dad, and another one of our friends. I noticed I had gotten my period unexpectedly, and I hadn’t had the foresight to ask someone how to manage it in these conditions ahead of time.
I’ve never been very good at tracking my cycle. I was caught by surprise with limited supplies, all while trying to keep my snow pants from freezing solid and maintaining my fragile outdoor girl persona just enough to make sure my very cute, very talented skier boyfriend stayed just that. I was new to touring, bad at shoveling, and trying to figure out what to do with tampons out there. I stripped off my boots, snow pants, fleece pants, booties, socks, long underwear, and underwear—in that order—in a tree well, just to change underwear and feel some semblance of cleanliness.
“Holy shit,” I thought, “no wonder there aren’t many women in the mountains! We’ve got discharge and blood to deal with, and I have to take my flipping socks off to change my underwear! And these men can wear theirs for a week without problems?”
Of course, smell can be an issue, but folks with male anatomy generally have a low risk of infection, chafing, and shame from bleeding through their layers.
When I returned from the trip, I researched when tampons were invented (1930, but not widely used until the 1960s), and my suspicions were confirmed. That had to be why women were missing from those ski films and, subsequently, the climbing and mountaineering films I saw. If it’s too big of a hassle for my millennial ass with access to modern resources, forget anyone who came before me.
Of course, I eventually learned that it wasn’t just periods. I learned about all the other reasons why women, gender non-conforming folks, and people of color were missing from these movies and why diverse representation was missing not just from the movies but from outdoor spaces themselves. But I digress. Back then, it was just another thing I could blame periods for.
I learned some funny things teaching sex education. And by funny, I mean horrifying truths about our limited knowledge of our bodies and collective understanding of the menstrual cycle despite all the information at our fingertips. For example, someone once asked me if a single tampon was enough for a whole period. On the other hand, NASA tried to send Sally Ride into space with 100 tampons for one week. So yeah, our knowledge is pretty limited.
A few things have happened since my incident at 16 that primed me to write this article about menstruation and skiing. (BTW—Don’t run away, non-menstruators; you’ll be okay, I promise. If you can handle violent movies or an election season, you can manage some light period talk. I bet you’ll learn something, too, which might even make you a better person).
First, I listened to Kit DesLauriers talk about skiing the seven summits. I also internalized the audience’s surprise that she was the first person, not just the first woman, to complete that objective. Then, I got a menstrual cup. I skied the Middle Teton. I had a few more embarrassing young adult moments. I discovered puffy pants. I went winter camping again and again and again. I tried just about every birth control in the book. I learned how to keep my clothes from freezing solid. I learned how to keep my butt clean in the backcountry. I got better at keeping my feet warm. I started leading winter trips for NOLS. I became a sex educator. And every goddamn 28 days, come hell or high water, I got my period. Well, sometimes 27 days.
I learned some funny things teaching sex education. And by funny, I mean horrifying truths about our limited knowledge of our bodies and collective understanding of the menstrual cycle despite all the information at our fingertips. For example, someone once asked me if a single tampon was enough for a whole period. On the other hand, NASA tried to send Sally Ride into space with 100 tampons for one week. So yeah, our knowledge is pretty limited.
PSA, the average menstruator uses about 20 tampons per cycle. Of course, this is person-to-person.
I won’t explain everything about the menstrual cycle and what products exist. Most menstruators are familiar with at least a few different options, and for those who aren’t menstruators or are curious about other options, there are lots of resources. Unfortunately, there’s almost no public information about periods while ski touring and winter camping specifically, so I’ll stick to that. Call it niche or call it patriarchy; it’s up to you. I implore you to use your current context and apply some of these tips as needed.
Here are some things I’ve learned along the way that might come in handy for you or a menstruator you may know.
Packing and Disposal
Let’s start with packing and disposal. This is a big one for people. We need to understand which options make the most sense in a winter environment to eliminate waste and keep the spaces in which we recreate clean. These answers depend heavily on what kind of trip you are on and who YOU are. Are you going for a casual half-day ski tour? Are you doing an epic day in the high alpine? Are you out for multiple days in a winter camping context? What are you used to and comfortable with? How much do you like discretion and privacy?
Amongst the general public, the most commonly used products are pads, followed closely by tampons. Tampons and pads must be packed in and out. A tampon takes longer than the user’s lifespan to decay (some studies say into the hundreds of years).
Maybe you’re thinking, “I don’t believe that; they’re just cotton.” Surprise. Some are also part plastic. Tampax brand lists polyester, polypropylene, and polyurethane (read: the same plastic non-latex condoms are made of) as ingredients. They usually contain chemicals, too. Pads have very similar material compositions.
There is still a lot of shame and stigma associated with periods. Therefore, many folks prefer a discreet option to pack out their used menstrual supplies. Packing out can be done in a few ways. A low-budget option starts with taking a plastic zip bag, covering the outside with duct tape, and putting used supplies inside. Maybe I’m just uncoordinated, but I find this task arduous (and a bit wasteful). After years of working in outdoor education and making personal hygiene kits for everyone, I’m over it. Depending on the length of my trip, I now pop a plastic baggie (or two) into a colored stuff sack to hide the contents. I love a simple, easy fix.
I’m also very supportive of the non-discrete option. Throw those bloody tampons and pads into a see-through baggie and let the world see; there’s nothing wrong with that. Whatever feels comfortable for you. I have had some issues with ice or icy blood clogging zip closures, so I’ve started to use plastic bags that I can knot closed (Uline 2mL gusseted bags are my go-to). Double bagging also works.
If you use a cup, menstrual blood must be treated similarly to feces as far as disposal goes—as both can carry pathogens. That is to say, how you empty your cup varies depending on where you are. On a day trip, it can be best not to change your cup. Since cups can stay in for 12 hours, this is sometimes feasible, but depending on how epic of a day you’re having or your flow, it might not be.
If you’re winter camping or have to change your cup for another reason, follow the same guidelines you would for feces. If you’re in a place where you need to use a WAG bag, the best practice is to put menstrual blood in the WAG bag. (I’d recommend one bag for just menstrual blood so you can reopen it)
If it’s spring or you have access to some exposed ground, you can dig a cat hole for menstrual blood if that’s what you’d do for feces in the area. This cat hole can be smaller since there is significantly less volume, but it should still be far away from water sources. If you are somewhere very remote where the solution to pollution is dilution (aka best practice is to dig in the snow to poop), you can also dispose of menstrual blood this way.
Remember, treat blood from a cup like feces, but pads and tampons ALWAYS need to be packed out along with any trash.
I know some folks who swear by period underwear, though I don’t personally know anyone who’s used them for multi-day winter trips. Doing laundry is pretty hard in the winter since you’re basically living inside a freezer. If this is your favorite option, know that you’ll need room for the bulkiness of several pairs and a way to transport the used underwear home; usually, a sealable plastic bag works great. Remember to read my above rant on how obnoxious it is to take off underwear while winter camping.
In part 2 of this series, look forward to learning about hygiene and how to support someone who menstruates.
Thanks for posting such a useful article.