Big Kid Summer, part 2: Backpacking Edition

We woke up like this!

When I was little, my parents took us backpacking at least once every summer. I remember actually whining, hiking uphill, asking “How much farther?” I remember my mom giving us lemon drops to suck on as we walked along, and an after-dinner treat of something bizarre called “Kendal Mint Cake” that had been taken up Everest by Tenzing Norgay and Sir Edmund Hilary, that we purchased specially at REI, and was essentially a brick of mint flavored sugar. Delicious.

I remember the magic of being at the lake or camp spot, no agenda, seeing wild animals and sensing that my parents were relaxed and happy. And then I remember running back down the trail, passersby on the trail always commenting on my full sized pillow (I refused to go without it, still do although I have reluctantly embraced a smaller backpacking one these days) flapping grandly off the top of my pack as my brothers and I raced down the trail. Downhill, I didn’t complain at all. I remember loving the feeling of flying down the mountain.

Just load me down with a big pack and I am a happy camper. Photo: Colin Forsyth

This past weekend, we finally took our own kids backpacking for the first time. I’m not quite sure why we hadn’t done it earlier—we were prioritizing other adventures, like the past two falls traveling in Mexico, I guess. And also, I think we knew we had to wait for the right time for them to enjoy it. I just figured we would have to endure lots of whining and I had to be prepared for that; I’m more of the mind of, we make them do it, they complain, then later they realize they love it! It’s a type 2 fun thing! Luckily, my husband is intelligent enough to recognize that if we want our kids to enjoy something, we have to make it enjoyable for them. So, we put the word out to some friends and made a plan.

Something about hanging out with friends in nature with no phones that feels so…human. Almost like we’ve done this before long ago….. Photo: Colin Forsyth

We had adult backpacks for the kids, our first mistake. The youngest refused immediately, at the trailhead, to wear hers. So, my husband carried it. Halfway into the three mile hike, our other kids decided she didn’t want to carry hers, so he grabbed that, too. Our friend was carrying one of her daughters’ packs, plus all of their gear, and periodically their youngest, as well. Absolutely heroic effort. Over half of us got stung by wasps. And miraculously, there was way less whining than I had anticipated. We had gummies for the kids, and jolly ranchers. There were huckleberries to pick. The kids had their friends to talk with. Their conversations were priceless to listen to. “Hey, do you want to hike together?” “Yeah, okay. Do you want this huckleberry?” “Okay, thanks, you don’t want it?” “No, I don’t like them.” “Thanks, I love them!” “Yeah actually I like them too.” “Yeah, sometimes they are sour.” “Yeah, and sometimes they are really good.” “Yeah.”

And I realized it was actually the perfect activity for me to do with the kids because usually, doing stuff with kids means going slow and not as far. But this way, I was loaded down with a heavy pack, so I was getting exercise, therefore I was happy, and we could all move at a similar pace. Amazing.

Balance practice.

Then, we reached the lake. The kids played, we relaxed, we all swam, we made dinner, we saw shooting stars—it doesn’t get any better. There were some whining and meltdowns on the way out, and we didn’t bring enough coffee so we decided to hike out a night earlier than planned, but it worked out perfectly as we spent a full day there then hiked out in the evening, and got milkshakes. There were a lot of lessons learned, but mainly just a feeling of pride that we’d all pulled this off together.

Before we went, our oldest asked me, “Mom, what’s backpacking like?” And I had to think about it. Ultimately, what I told her, and I think what makes it so special for me—and why I am so happy to finally have shared it with our kids—is this: Backpacking feels like freedom. It can be hard, then really fun, then hard again and then fun again. Mainly, it’s knowing you can go for a night or more with everything you need on your back. You realize how much less you actually need, and how much more you can accomplish than you ever thought possible.

“So, do you like logs?” “Yeah, me too.”