Transition Interview Series Part 3: Leslie Irby, Navy Vet and Climb4 founder.
Finding purpose on the Pacific Coast Trail and how non-profit work contributed to the process of healing from loss and military-sexual-trauma.
In part three of the “Transition Interview Series”, I connected with Leslie Irby, Navy Veteran and founder of the non-profit Climb4. Through the Veteran’s Outdoor Advocacy Group (VOAG), I was aware of Climb4 and the impact its had in providing access to outdoor therapy for Vets. What I didn’t know however, was Climb4’s remarkable inception story and the incredible journey taken by its founder.
As a Veteran, and moreover as a Veteran advocate for Outdoor Recreation Therapy, I’m grateful for individuals like Leslie who face vulnerability in an effort to benefit others by sharing their stories. I believe our community depends on them.
Please note that this article makes reference to sexual misconduct, and mention of suicide. The TRANSITION and the content within is not medical advice. If you require diagnosis or treatment for a mental or physical issue or illness, please seek it from a licensed professional. If life threatening, call (800)273-8255
So, you were in the Navy, do I have that right? Maybe we start with what that was like?
Yeah, that’s right. I was in the Navy from 2008 to 2013. Joined right after High School.
Got it, and what did you do?
I was a “DC” Damage Controlman.
Oh no kidding? That’s a Navy firefighter, right? There in Norfolk?
Yeah (laughing). It was a good job for the most part.
I was stationed in Hawaii at first. Then eventually San Diego and moved to Virginia after I got out.
A Damage Controlman. I can remember those parts of Basic Training for some reason. Did you get to put out any fires?
I did, actually (laugh). On my first ship, we were preparing for a deployment off the coast of Somalia, the anti-piracy stuff. Anyways, this First Class and I are walking down this pier right next to this ship that wasn’t even ours.
For some reason, there weren’t many people on this ship. I think they’d just gotten home from deployment or something like that. So sure enough, we look up and see this fire. We ran up there, helped ourselves to the service locker, found these SCBA’s, and got to work. Turns out it ended up being this multimillion-dollar fire. It was pretty wild. I remember I got through 45 minutes of air in about 20 minutes (laughing).
No kidding, that’s wild. You’re getting ready for your first deployment and already fighting million-dollar fires. So, eventually you deploy to the Horn of Africa? How was that?
It was pretty rough, actually. This ship at the time was a “newly integrated ship” meaning previous to this deployment, it was an all-male ship, no women. So, when I show up, they’re bringing these females onboard, basically like one at a time. I was the first female engineer this ship had ever seen, and the third female overall.
I remember, when I checked in, some guy showed me to my berthing. I had no idea what it would be like, right? They open this door to a 50-person berthing space, and the guy giving me the tour is like, “here’s your room, take any rack you want.” So, that was cool. I had 50 different beds to choose from, but it went south pretty quickly.
Well, wait. So, you’re what, 19 years old? About to do this 9-month deployment, and you’re one of 3 women on this boat?
That’s right.
To make things worse, I went to an all-girls Catholic high school, of which I had graduated like, 3 months previous to this. So, yeah, I’m assigned to this ship, and looking back it sounds insane, but I didn’t have a ton of situational awareness on the whole thing.
Anyway, without getting into a bunch of details, something ends up happening that was a pretty big deal. I’m talking in the Navy Times type big deal.
Leadership failed me, chain of command failed me, it was really bad. A ton of people involved. My only saving grace for the last four months of deployment was this female CTR Chief. I was on Charlie Liberty (restriction pending an investigation), and she would let me call my family from one of the ship phones. Her and I are still great friends.
I’m sorry to hear that.
When we got back, I started to slip a little bit. I was being treated really poorly, getting shoulder checked in hallways, no one would talk to me, it was completely miserable.
I ended up getting some help, seeing a therapist, but finally they’re like “Hey, do you want to get out? Or transfer, or what do you want to do?”
And I was like, “I want to stay in, send me back.” You know? I didn’t want this to be the story of my military career.
So they say, “Okay, we’re going to send you to San Diego, to a new ship.”
That ship ended up being phenomenal. When I got there, I felt like I got the fresh start I needed.
Excuse my lacking Naval history here but it’s what, 2010? How many ships were yet to be integrated?
I think mostly all the ships were integrated except for Cruisers and Destroyers. A Destroyer only has about 250 people, so they were the last to take females. Carriers had been integrated for a long time.
Got it.
It was totally different in San Diego. Women in leadership, older females to mentor me. Way better.
On that first ship in Hawaii, there were a couple of men involved who were, I’ll just say not my age; forties and fifties who knew fucking better. They just knew better.
For a long time, I was caught up on the idea that maybe the whole thing had been my fault. I struggled with that question a lot.
When all that shit happened, I left. I’m not planning to talk to anyone from back in Hawaii or talk about what happened ever again, really. Eventually, I get this message from one of the guys on Facebook, and he’s like, “Hey I’m sorry, this was not your fault.” That happened a few times actually, from a lot of different people. It really helped at the time.
I’m actually helping one of them start their own non-profit right now. One guy who was very senior on that ship. Has a wife and kids and everything. He emailed me an apologized for his part in it.
I see. That’s a lot for anyone. Heartbreaking to hear this was your experience of military service.
Yeah. This second ship ended up mending some of my thoughts about the Navy. I had a wonderful time. Ended up meeting my best friend, Candace.
Shortly after though, it was time to re-enlist. That meant I could be forced to transfer again. So now I’m in like this 50/50 scenario. Will I get another ship like the first one? Or like the second?
Ultimately it was too much, so I decided to get out.
That makes sense. Did you have a plan in mind? Anything you knew you wanted to do, or was it more of a jump?
Total jump. I end up going to massage therapy school and working for this chiropractor.
At the time my attitude was like, “I don’t want any help, I got this.” I rejected every form of the Transition Assistance Program, no disability claim, Skillbridge, none of that stuff.
I have all this freedom all of a sudden and I was partying a lot. Partying turned into self-medicating pretty quickly. It definitely wasn’t healthy.
This was about four months after I got out, I think.
At some point I stopped drinking to have fun, and it was more of a pain relief type thing.
I was making pretty good money at this chiropractic job. We were contracted with the San Diego Chargers. So money, plus the free time helped alcohol turn into cocaine, and really anything that would let me drink longer.
When you say “self-medicating”, looking back, were you aware that you were self-medicating from the trauma you experienced in the Navy? What was the story you were telling yourself? How much of all this did you understand to be connected to your experience on that ship?
Good question. That experience, I wish, still to this day I can’t really talk about it, but I think one day I will.
After the Navy, I didn’t really understand relationships, I didn’t know if people were being nice to me, just to get something from me. I had a lot of anxiety around that.
It ruined my ability to trust. It ruined a marriage. I was married, and the biggest issue there was my ability to understand what other people’s intentions were. Trust in the general public was really hard, and I didn’t really trust myself.
Understandable. So, you’ve got this job, and you’re engaging in some drugs and heavy drinking, I know from our non-profit relationship that the Pacific Coast Trail is a big part of your story. When did that come about?
So, this chapter of life ultimately ended in a DUI.
That was enough to be like, “Okay, maybe you’re not fine.” I remember calling my mom from jail, hearing the disappointment in her voice. My parents did everything right, they gave me and my brother everything we needed. So, basically, I was ready to admit that I had a problem. Thank God I didn’t hurt anyone.
I was supposed to be at work that day and this wouldn’t have been the first time I missed work. So, I end up getting a call from the manager, and she tells me “Look, I’ve seen a lot of changes in you. You’re more than welcome to come back, but I need you to go and figure it out.”
So, I’m out of a job, putting all my bills on a credit card, and I’ve got his DUI to deal with. Basically, rock bottom. One thing however, I was lucky enough to realize was that if I was going to get better, I’d have to leave San Diego.
I didn’t want to go home, and I didn’t know where else to go.
I knew a little bit about hiking in California because when I was healthy, that’s what I liked to do. So, I decided to sell everything except for my dog, and start this hike.
Well, it’s not just some hike, it runs all the way from Mexico to Canada, right? You just decide to sell everything and hike for a few months? Was initial plan to do the whole thing?
The whole thing. The start of the trail is right there in San Diego, maybe 35 minutes from where I lived. So, I knew a little bit about it.
But essentially yeah, I sold everything, posted on Facebook asking if anybody would donate some gear, and got almost everything donated to me in the matter of a couple days.
That ended up having a lot to do with the idea for Climb4 actually, even though I didn’t know what at the time.
Incredible. Setting off on this hike, did you acknowledge that you’d experienced trauma in the Navy and that, at least in part there might be a connection between your experience in the Navy and everything you were going through?
A little bit maybe, subconsciously, but not to the point that I ultimately did. I really wasn’t able to process it all until only a few years ago.
What an amazing story. Do you feel like you found what you were looking for out there? Experienced some healing?
I never came to some ultimate realization, but what I did realize is that being active and backpacking improved my outlook. I had really bad anxiety, which encouraged a lot of the drinking. On the trail, I was busy. You wake up every morning and walk 20 miles. It was a different setting to think about my emotions, I guess.
When you lay in bed hung-over all day thinking about your life, it creates the opportunity for a lot of self-punishment. That’s a lot different than seeing the sunrise on a mountain and thinking about life.
I also realized that I had this unhealthy relationship with finishing things. On the PCT, you realize, if you’re having a bad day, it’s probably just the situation right now. Twenty-four hours from now, things will be totally different.
I wanted to quit a few times. Once, about 250 miles from the end of the trail, after a really hard day. I knew the end of the trip was only a few weeks away and I started having a lot of anxiety about what I was going to do once it was over. Who I was going to be. I was telling myself I’d basically accomplished my goal.
I told my trail family I was going to quit because my ground pad wouldn’t hold air (laughter).
So, of course, this guy on the trail, trying to be nice, fixes it for me. So, I’m thinking “shit, that was just my reason to get out of here.”
Anyway, he ends up convincing me that I should walk another three miles to this campsite, stay the night, and then quit in the morning if I wanted to. We end up staying up late that night by the fire, telling stories, and looking at the stars. The next morning, I didn’t want to go backwards. I wanted to keep going.
That lesson has really stayed with me. Since then, I’ve been able to tell myself, “Just give it one more day.”, I think that really changed my life.
Wow. Super Valuable. So, you finished? How long did it take in total?
5 months and 22 days.
Good for you. That’s impressive. I can only imagine coming back to reality after something like that is hard.
Well, something I didn’t tell you yet, Candace, my best friend, committed suicide while I was planning for the hike.
I had planned to see her in Arizona right before the hike. On the way back to San Diego from Louisville. Getting everything ready.
I’m very sorry to hear that. She was a civilian at the time or still in the Navy?
She was a civilian when she died.
So, a lot of the hike and the reason for it changed about a month before I left. What was supposed to be a hike to fix myself, became sort of a campaign to honor her.
I made all of these little silicone bracelets for the trip and handed them out on the trail to everyone.
At this time, hashtags on Instagram were a big thing. My idea was that I would get every hiker I met to take a picture at their favorite place on the trail and post it with the hashtag.
She had a son and a husband at the time, so this collection of pictures was going to be a gift for them.
That’s really powerful.
Yeah, it was a lot. This is going to come back to your question, I promise.
I end up having a couple pretty powerful experiences in a year’s time. Basically, everything I was thinking about with Candace, mixed with the experience of having those Vets donate their equipment. It all came together on the trail and I ended up with this idea for a non-profit, Climb4.
I had also met a number of Vets on the trail and had conversations with some folks participating in Veteran backpacking trip. There’s nothing against that model, but I realized a need for something else. I wanted to create something that would support Vets logistically to go have their own experience that they designed, not a facilitated or guided one.
Wow, what a realization. That’s really cool. So, Climb4 is focused on equipping and logistical support for Vets. Giving Vets the tools to go out and do something. Is that right?
That’s right, and there’s no requirement that someone choose hiking, or even that it has to be done alone. We just don’t provide guided, tour-like experiences. We want the Vet to take responsibility for that part and figure it out for themselves.
Amazing. I get it. I need some time to think about what it is, but there’s an element of self-reliance and autonomy that does bring value to time spent in the outdoors. From my point of view, it seems really successful. How has the journey been from that idea to where you are today?
Well, so, I get off the trail and my boyfriend at the time had received orders to Norfolk. He’d moved while I was gone.
My plan was to go back to San Diego for a few weeks, figure out what to do, and make a decision to stay, or move to Virginia. When I got back to San Diego, I was really excited to see my friends, for them to see this new me and everything.
But immediately you know, it was like, “Welcome home Leslie, let’s go to the bar and celebrate!”
I knew pretty quickly it wasn’t going to work. It was heartbreaking actually. Those people meant a lot to me, still do, but I knew it wasn’t going to work. So, I packed up my car and left after a day or two. Didn’t tell anyone.
Good for you. I can picture that scenario. That’s pretty tough. Were you working on Climb4 right away? Or was it just an idea?
Pretty much right away. I got to Virginia, and I didn’t know a soul, just my boyfriend.
When I got there, I started looking for some help. I got some folks together, a fundraiser, project manager, and this guy to do the website. I was really into it. I knew coming off the trail that I was going to do this. I really didn’t have anything else to do (laughing), so it was easy to stay focused.
Pretty early on we had this launch fundraiser, and it was a much bigger success than I expected. That sort of gave me the confidence to know that it could work.
One thing also happened early on and felt like a sign. I get connected with this family who was grieving the loss of someone else from suicide, Eddie Hebert, a SEAL. They were looking to create some sort of fundraising initiative to raise money for his family. Someone connected me with them because they knew I had connections with logo design people, venue folks, and people in the community. And that’s happened a couple times.
When Candace died, I felt sort of helpless, you know? Your best friend dies and on top of all the feelings that come with that, you want to help. Offer something to the family.
So, even though I’m not raising money for her, in a strange way helping these other families has sort of felt like that you know?
Absolutely. You must be really proud of that. Earlier you mentioned a struggle to find purpose in those early years post-service. Listening to you talk, I can only imagine you found it through Climb4. Would you agree with that?
I would. Definitely.
Incredible. Is this all volunteer? Did or do you have a paying job throughout all this?
I do yes. We’ve never taken a dollar from Climb4, it’s all volunteer.
I worked in Federal sales for a bit, but through Climb4 actually, I got connected with other folks in the space and until recently worked with another Vet organization, in a paid role.
I work so I can do Climb4 maybe. (laughing)
You’re an inspiration. Climb4 sounds like it’s had a big impact. I still want to finish the story of you though. So, at this point you’re running this non-profit, this is probably only a few years ago at this point, sounds like things are going really well.
Yeah, things aren’t perfect, and I’ve had more work to do after the PCT.
I started investing time in talk therapy around this time. The guy I had moved to Virginia with, that relationship ended. Pretty badly. Safe to say I was the toxic one there (laughter) There seemed to be sort of a recurring theme with my relationships where, eventually, the ship would always turn the same direction.
So, I end up working with a talk therapist. This lady made me go back to day one basically, back to my childhood all the way through what happened in the Navy. That was really helpful. I feel like it changed my perspective in a big way. You start to see how you’re not at fault for a lot of the things you thought you were.
It’s an amazing story Leslie. I almost feel like as a Veteran, and as a member of VOAG who advocates for the power of the outdoors, we owe people like you a lot of thanks.
Thank you. What I realized pretty quickly when I started in Climb4 was that my depression started to subside, and my anxiety was not as bad because instead of focusing on my own inner stuff, I was focused on other people. Not to say that my trauma isn’t valid, but I wasn’t on loop with it.
Just knowing that I was doing this from a giving place and not a money place solved a lot of issues for me.
Especially the depression side. I think that really stemmed from not knowing what I was supposed to be doing with my life after the Navy.
I’ve gotten to travel, take women out, show them the trail. That shit is super healing you know?
I do, some of that I’m trying to figure out for myself. I think we all are. Thank you for doing this. Last question I’ll ask you. If you had a few minutes with a young E4-E5, maybe a young Leslie Irby who’s a few months from getting out of the military, what would you tell them?
Wow. I’ve got a few things maybe (laughing). I mean the dream would be to get ahold of this person way before that.
Mentorship probably. You have to get yourself hooked up with a mentor when you get out. It’s going to be humbling. There’s something about our community where people really don’t mind passing on lessons from their own life. You have to take advantage of that, or you can really struggle. I also wish I could extend a message to any transitioning member that no matter what, everyone will experience some type of struggle. I say that because one reason I struggled for so long was because I thought I was the only one having a hard time; I didn’t realize there were other people I could talk to who would understand. I now know that everyone struggles, and that there is strength in talking about our experiences. It is what facilitates change.
I agree. Thank you, Leslie.
You can support Climb4 by going to their website https://www.climb-4.org/.
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