an epic life

30 Years of Marriage: A Hard-Earned Celebration

August 22nd, 2022

Today, on Aug. 22, 2022, Jerry and I celebrate 30 years of marriage.

The following is a story I’ve never shared before. It’s about an experience that took place in the wilderness of Montana, almost exactly 31 years ago. 

Jerry and I have similar recollections of the experience and we agree that all of the “features” of our relationship and marriage were present in our first adventure.

And while A Hard-Earned Celebration is an accurate title for this 30-years-of-marriage story, an alternative title could be, I’m a Tall Order and Jerry’s a Trooper.

It was our first backpacking adventure together. It was my idea and I chose the destination. The route to Sapphire Lake, in the Bob Marshall Wilderness, was labeled “strenuous.” I had developed a penchant for doing hard things, and Jerry, a marathon runner at the time, also liked doing challenging things. With only one night to spend together in the wilderness, I wanted to make sure ours was a worthy destination, but also, I figured there would be fewer crowds on a strenuous hike.

At the time, Jerry was living in Dayton, Ohio, where he was a physical therapy tech in the Air Force, and I was living in Missoula, Montana, where I was finishing Journalism school at the University of Montana. 

A year earlier, in August of 1990, we had met at a wedding in Omaha, Nebraska. (Thank you Jody and Kathy!) Jerry was a groomsman and I was a bridesmaid, and at the rehearsal, Jerry flirted with me. The flirting continued and it led to us dancing all night before ending up in his uncle Gene’s hot tub in the wee hours of the morning.

After our exhilarating night, we promised to keep in touch, and we did. It was a time before cell phones and email, so we wrote letters, put stamps on them, and mailed them to each other. We wrote hundreds of letters to each other and in the process, we fell in love. (We saved all the letters and they are among our most cherished possessions.) 

In addition to our letter-writing, we had long-distance phone calls, and whenever we could afford it—and even when we couldn’t—we flew back and forth between Montana and Ohio to see each other. Neither of us had much time off so the trips were few and far between, and usually only lasted a weekend, sometimes less. It was never enough time so we were careful not to squander even a minute of it.

The night before, Jerry’s flight had been delayed and he didn’t get in until after midnight so when the alarm went off early in the morning, we hit the snooze button, opting for a little more sleep. 

We were backpacking rookies and as such, we were properly penalized. 

We were only going in for one night so in theory, it should have been easy to keep our loads light, but we were not only newbies, but broke newbies. The sleeping bags and tent we purchased for the adventure were cheap, which meant they were heavy and bulky. And because this was a special first-time voyage for us, we included some bottles of wine and other luxuries, which further added to the weight of our packs.  

Our backpacks towered over us and were so heavy that when we stood still, our boots sunk into the ground. Our packs were so unwieldy we feared we might get injured when taking them off or putting them back on so we decided to not take our packs off until we reached our final destination. 

We paid the price for the late start by having to share the first five miles of our route with dozens of other people who were hiking to the more popular Upper Holland Lake. It was hot, in the 90s, and the sun was blazing as we hiked steadily uphill, gaining 2,100 feet in elevation to reach this point. On the upside, the views were incredible.

Another rookie move was I wore hiking boots that were fresh-out-of-the-box brand new. Not only had I not broken the boots in, they didn’t fit properly. They were too small, something I was reminded of with every step, especially given my feet had swelled from the heat, effort and altitude. They were on fire, throbbing and pulsing, and I was sure I had blisters. I couldn’t wait to free my feet and soak them in Sapphire Lake. To numb them out of existence.

We were sweating profusely and feeling whipped so we took a brief rest at the end of the lake to drink some water and to eat some jerky and trail mix. We still had another mile to go that would include another thousand feet of elevation gain before we’d reach Sapphire Lake.  

As we continued, the day grew hotter and the mosquito population exploded to new levels. We traveled at glacier speed up many steep switchbacks under the crushing weight of our backpacks, inching closer to our destination. 

The “strenuous” rating for the route was accurate. We were living proof of it.

Fortunately, no one else was willing to suffer the same level of misery and by the time we reached Sapphire Lake, the crowds had thinned to just Jerry and me. 

Jerry and I were still newly in love and we hadn’t seen each other in four months. As a result, upon arriving at Sapphire Lake in early afternoon, it was decided (not in words but in actions) that our sore feet could wait, but our desire for each other could not. After our romantic activity, we unintentionally fell asleep for two hours, and when we woke up, we had severe sunburns to show for it.

The journey to get here had seriously handicapped us. Any time either of us moved, we groaned in pain and whined about how sore every single muscle in our bodies were from the effortful journey. My feet were completely blister-damaged, making it difficult to stand or walk, and Jerry had a headache from the altitude. And now, due to our careless and unbridled romantic activity, we could add severe sunburn to the mix.

Because we had only one night here, and since it was late in the afternoon, we went to work quickly to get our camp set up. Or rather, not we, as much as Jerry.   

My feet hurt so bad that I was more or less disabled, crawling around camp on all fours. I wasn’t completely useless, though. I did manage to start a big fire in the established campfire ring. We needed the fire to keep the mosquitos away and to dry out our hiking boots. The final stretch to get here was a marsh, and too exhausted to take our socks and boots off, we charged straight through it and the result was our boots had been soaked all the way through. After I was sure the fire would remain big and reliable, I arranged our boots on the rocks that formed the ring around it so they could start to dry.

I still couldn’t wait to soak my aching and damaged feet in the lake’s icy cold waters, but the lake was 15 yards from us and after all of the physical efforts of the day, we were in need of food. We were in need of serious replenishment.

Jerry got our tent pitched in short order and then, with me on all fours as his sous chef, cooked a delicious dinner of fettuccine alfredo, topped with pepperoni chunks, fresh black pepper and parmesan cheese. We ravenously snarfed our dinners. Jerry had seconds, making sure to finish all we had made. We were so hungry–and lazy–that we licked our plates completely clean with our tongues so we wouldn’t have to expend energy washing the dishes. 

Exhausted, sore, sunburned, and stuffed full of fettuccine, we felt like we could become beached whales and never move again for the night if we lingered at camp, so we forced ourselves to get up. I added some logs to the fire and Jerry rummaged through our packs to locate the bottles of wine we packed, and finally, we headed to the lake.

As we approached the shore, we looked all around the lake for signs of other people, but saw no one. We had Sapphire Lake all to ourselves. 

We spied a perfect granite slab that slanted gradually into the lake and we sat down on it. We extended our tired legs and dangled and soaked our sore feet in the lake’s icy cold waters and then Jerry opened a bottle of wine. We passed the bottle back and forth, taking big gulps from it. 

The wine ran out quickly and we laid down on our backs with our aching feet still in the lake. The slab was cold and felt wonderful against our hot and sweaty backs. My feet were frozen and numb, which I welcomed. I was tired of their bitching, and of feeling their aches.

We laid like that for a long time, recalling some of the highlights and challenges we had experienced to get here. We were so happy to be here, thrilled to not be hiking anymore, and to have all of the work for the day done. (Except for poor Jerry. I had mentioned when I first made the fire that we would need to make regular jaunts back to camp to stoke the fire and add logs to it in order to make sure it would keep on burning through the night. We needed our soaked boots to be dry by morning, but because I had been reduced to crawling, Jerry was generous enough to take on the responsibility.)

The sun was starting to set when I finally sat up and pulled my pruned and non-feeling feet from the water. They had caused me so much pain during the hike that I was almost sorry to see I still had them. 

We decided to share another bottle of wine because we deserved it but also because we needed to lighten our loads. 

We took our time with this bottle and watched as the sun’s last remaining light painted the surface of the lake and everything around it a sherbert orange color. The scene was breathtakingly beautiful. 

I felt tired and fulfilled but also a little loopy and wobbly. Higher altitudes, especially when you’re not accustomed to being at such elevations, can cause lightheadedness and headaches. If you’re not careful, the altitude can also turn you into a cheap drunk. Which I almost was.

Fortunately, I didn’t feel sick, just a little buzzed, but due to my damaged feet and overall deteriorated condition, I told Jerry he’d need to keep an eye on me, to keep me “on a short leash.” I didn’t trust myself or my footing, and was afraid I might fall down and add further injury to myself. I also didn’t want to pass out for the night and miss the sunset or the star-gazing we planned to do.

After finishing the wine, we returned to laying on our backs on the slab and watched the sky. The sun was almost completely down and everything was now a soft pastel pink. It was stunning and as we took it all in we could smell the scent of sweet pine from the forest surrounding the lake’s sapphire blue waters.

“Can it get any better than this?”  I asked. Jerry and I agreed it could not.

The sun was down and we were looking forward to stargazing, but it was twilight and we estimated it would be an hour, possibly more, before we’d start seeing stars. We embraced before dozing off.

Fortunately, this unexpected nap was short. My need to go to the bathroom woke me up. By this point, we had consumed so much water and wine that we frequently needed to use the facilities. At least we’re hydrated, I would say every time one of us would get up, moaning in pain and exhaustion in the process, to relieve ourselves. I said it as if to congratulate us for something–one thing–we had done right.

It was almost dark now and as we sat on our slab, we heard blerp, blerp, blerp, over and over again. We looked across the lake’s glass-like surface and saw several little bumps with circular ripples around them. They were fish nipping at the lake’s surface, feeding on insects and every time one came up it would make a blerp sound. 

The evening was completely quiet except for the sounds of the trout nipping at the lake’s surface, and the occasional popping and crackling from our nearby campfire. We watched the ripples until there was no longer enough light to see them.

The stars were starting to become visible and it felt magical. I remember thinking, this must be what it feels like to experience bliss. I had never had such a thought before.

Jerry got up and walked to our camp to stoke the fire and to check on our boots, which he reported were drying but would need the entire night to dry out completely. He brought back to our slab a sleeping bag and a blanket and some more clothing layers for us.

As night fell, the temperature dropped and soon we were cold. We laid on top of an unzipped sleeping bag on the slab, which kept us from getting cold, but we had clear skies overhead and it was a crisp evening so we’d need to keep adding layers to stay warm.

Laying next to each other on our backs, Jerry and I held hands. We didn’t say much as we looked up at the darkening sky. The stars were starting to become visible and we were excited. Before long, we identified and rattled off the names of the most obvious constellations. The Big Dipper, Little Dipper, Orion’s Belt, Cassiopeia. 

Eventually our interest waned and we sat up. Some time passed with us sitting there, too tired to do anything significant, but also not in need or possession of words. We contemplated whether we should sleep here, under the stars, or return to the tent, when we looked up and noticed the sky was exploding in purple-pink and neon-lime green. The sky and the vivid colors that filled it were pulsating in waves, as if flickering in slow motion.

Aurora Borealis. The Northern Lights! 

We could not believe our eyes or our good fortune. When I planned this adventure it never occurred to me that we might see the Northern Lights. I didn’t know it was even a possibility.  We laid there, mesmerized, our minds blown by the awe-inspiring spectacle. It was exhilarating and enlivening. Wondrous and miraculous!

We watched the sky for a long time, until we could no longer keep our eyes From closing.  

We decided to stay put and to sleep under the stars, under the exploding and colorful Aurora Borealis. Jerry got up one more time to add logs to the fire and soon after he returned to the slab, our bed for the night, we fell fast asleep. 

We slept like babies, but it was short-lived. Morning came early. Jerry woke up first and kissed my forehead to wake me up. The air was fresh and crisp and the sun was rising. The scene before us was glorious. 

Much of the lake was painted orange and its surface was dotted with circular ripples from the feeding fish. It felt so peaceful and we lingered for a time. As I took in the view, I inhaled, trying to absorb this magical moment and scenery in a way that would ensure I’d never forget it.

We limped back to camp to re-start the fire and get some water going so we could have coffee and oatmeal. We wanted to enjoy a couple more hours of bliss before we’d have to break camp and start our return hike, which we both predicted would be a sort of death march given our physical condition and my blister-damaged feet. Plus, Jerry had a late afternoon flight in Missoula to catch, so we were on a timeline.

Jerry went into the tent to change into a clean outfit and I looked for a pan to fill with water. As I looked for the coffee and oatmeal, I noticed our fire was smoldering but not quite out. That’s when I also noticed the boots. Specifically, the odd number of them. There were only three boots standing on the fire ring, both of Jerry’s boots and my left boot. Where was my right boot? 

I looked, desperately, around the outside of the fire ring, in search of my other boot.

Oh my God! Where’s my fricking boot? I was on all fours, rooting around in the dirt like a maniac, frantically searching for my missing boot.

But then, I did the thing I was afraid to do. I looked into the fire again. And that’s when I saw it, the spare remains of my right boot’s once-rugged vibram sole were smoldering in a pile of ashes.  

This couldn’t be happening. I hoped it was a bad dream, but knew it wasn’t. 

I don’t use the f-bomb often, saving it only for very particular circumstances.

I let out a year’s worth, maybe two, of f-bombs.

Without any other shoes, I would have to hike the seven miles out in one boot. This was a crisis and Jerry and I both knew it. Still, we didn’t want to squander the morning. As I sat and worried and wondered how I was going to hike downhill for almost seven miles while descending 3,600 feet of elevation with a hiking boot on only one foot, Jerry took over my duties and made us extra-strong cowboy coffee, and oatmeal topped with honey, cashews, and dried apricots. Both were delicious and hit the spot and at least temporarily helped me to not think about my upcoming plight.

After breakfast, we knew we couldn’t delay the sufferfest any longer. Given my one-boot status, and our combined sore and aching muscles, we anticipated the return hike could take a long time and we had to account for that.  

It would be awkward wearing only one boot and for a minute I thought about wearing no boots. But the terrain was too steep and treacherous to consider going with no boots at all. I told myself—and Jerry, probably in part to help persuade myself—that one boot would be better than none. 

It was hard to get my left, swollen and damaged foot into the too-small boot. My bootless right foot had only a thick wool sock on it. Hiking was unimaginably difficult and the first couple of miles were particularly excruciating and slow because the terrain was so steep. I was constantly having to stop and pick out stickers and thorns from the sock and I couldn’t walk gingerly enough on my other blister-damaged foot. Every step, for both the protected foot and the one in the sock, felt like I was walking on broken glass.

I was in a personal hell, but Jerry made it a little less hellish with his constant and loving support. To lighten my load, he had taken much of the gear from my pack and put it in his, and he insisted we stop often so I could sit and get off my feet. The return hike remains one of the hardest challenges I’ve ever had to endure (and I’ve experienced a great many in the last several years).

By the time we were back at the car, Jerry and I were both physically and mentally exhausted. Every muscle of ours was sore, and our sunburns were even more severe because of course we had overlooked packing sunblock. The hike had taken longer than planned so we had to drive directly to Missoula with no stops. 

Some 31 years later, I can still recall that 90-minute car ride. Despite our physical condition, Jerry and I were exhilarated as we took turns recalling all the hardships and highlights we had experienced during our adventure. It had been so physically challenging, and our packs had been so ridiculously unwieldy, but to have such a beautiful remote lake and wilderness spot all to ourselves felt miraculous.  

We laughed about the adventurous love-making and the penalty we’d paid for it. The sunset, star-gazing and our shock and delight at seeing the Northern Lights! And then sleeping under all of it and waking to the glorious sunrise. We laughed about my having to crawl around camp on all fours and how useless I was. The burned boot and the return hike from hell, and the fact that all of it managed to happen in just a 24-hour period. 

The experience, and our replaying of it, left us feeling elated. Despite all that went wrong, our adventure had been epic. We would continue to laugh for weeks about all the mistakes we had made and the mishaps, and promised we’d do better the next time.

As we made the drive back to Missoula, I remember thinking If these are the sorts of things that are possible when I’m with Jerry in the wilderness, then I want more.

Signing up for more

Fortunately, Jerry felt the same and four months later, he asked me to marry him. I said Yes and it has been one of the best decisions of my life.

We were married in Missoula on Aug. 22, 1992. Family and friends traveled from near and far to help us celebrate the occasion. Many arrived in advance of the wedding to enjoy the spectacular outdoors during what had been a typical summer week in western Montana, with temperatures in the 80s.

But then, on our wedding day, the weather changed dramatically. It was only 32 degrees and it was snowing! Missoula, and most of western Montana, experienced the coldest 22nd day of August since records had began being kept in the 1930s. 

Following the wedding, Jerry and I stood outside of the church, covered in wet snow, and rice that our guests had tossed on us when we exited the church. Everyone was gone, en route to our reception, and we were waiting in the falling snow for the limousine driver who would be a no show. 

As we stood there, getting more covered in wet snow, we chuckled about the way things had unfolded on our wedding day. Jerry pulled me in close with one of his bear hugs and we embraced and stood like that for some moments, in the falling snow.

The unpredictable weather and the chauffeur no-show were a reminder that things never go exactly as planned and that we can’t control everything. It was the perfect insight to gain as Jerry and I embarked on what would become our most meaningful adventures of all, marriage.

30 years later

The definition of adventure is an unusual and exciting, typically hazardous, experience or activity. 

Our 30-year marriage has been nothing, if not a great adventure. It’s been unusual and exciting, and also, at times, hazardous. 

Like most adventures, our marriage has been full of discovery, learning, inspiration, surprise, breathtaking sights, celebrations, awe, fulfillment, fun, emotional connection, peak experiences, and so many meaningful experiences. But we’ve also experienced uncertain terrain, hardship, mental and physical challenges, mountains that were impassable, detours, stumbles and injuries, poor communication, re-routes, and inclement weather. In between these highs and lows, there have been stretches of tedium, monotony, and drudgery. 

Along the way, we’ve raised a family. We have three wonderful sons, Wolf, 22, Hayden, 20, and Finis (Fin), 15, and they are our greatest blessings. Perhaps it’s no wonder, all of them were conceived in the wilderness.

The outdoors as a staple

From the beginning of our relationship and marriage, and since we started our family 22 years ago, time spent outdoors has been a staple. After we were married, seven years would pass before we started our family, and when I was pregnant with our oldest son, Jerry and I resolved to have the outdoors be a central part of our family’s life. To do this is so much easier said than done, but we persisted and it’s one of the things Jerry and I are most proud of.

Over the years, our family’s level of fitness and outdoor experience made it possible for us to embark on countless family epic hikes, and backpacking and llama packing trips in our beloved backyard, Wyoming’s Wind River Range. We also enjoyed about 20 year’s worth of spring breaks spent road tripping, adventuring, and camping throughout southern Utah, northern Arizona, and Colorado, and in various state and national parks of the West.

In 2016, we took our family’s first European trip. We visited seven countries and really immersed ourselves in the experience. We went on two particularly epic hikes in Switzerland, and another one in Italy’s Cinque Terre region.  To say it was an active vacation is an understatement. Thanks to Jerry’s excellent logistics and navigational leadership, we successfully made about 100 train connections in Europe. Every time we’d disembark the train in a new country, we’d put on our Patagonia Black Hole Duffel backpacks and walk one half to one-and-a-half miles to locate the apartment or flat we rented. We walked an average of 20,000 steps/day exploring the sights in London, Rome, Florence, Moneglia, Munich and the Bavarian Alps, Switzerland, and Portugal.   

In Summer of 2017, we rented a van and started in Vancouver, British Columbia, and spent a month traveling south, hitting all the major cities, coastal sights, and national parks along the way before ending in Los Angeles. We enjoyed some particularly memorable hikes in Vancouver, Washington’s Hoh Forest and along the coast of Oregon. 

In the Summer of 2018, we spent some time in Madrid before traveling to Astorga to embark on our 160-mile backpacking pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago, in northern Spain, for several days before spending some time in Barcelona. Walking the Camino was a particularly meaningful experience for Jerry and I to share with our family.

In 2019, we went on an epic adventure in Iceland that was unlike any other. It was an otherworldly experience, complete with countless waterfalls, hikes over glaciers and to the tops of volcanoes, soaks in hot springs, and a 24-hour music festival to celebrate the Summer Solstice.

For all of these extended epic trips, we kept a family journal that each of us contributed notes to at the end of each day. These journals, along with all the photos and videos captured along the way, are among Jerry’s and my most cherished “souvenirs” from the experiences.

Most recently, to celebrate our 30th anniversary, Jerry and I sprung for a family trip to Baja, Mexico at the start of the summer. The trip was mostly leisurely and we had a blast. But as part of our 30th anniversary celebrations, we informed the boys there would also be an “epic adventure”: We’d climb Mitchell Peak in a day sometime during the summer. We did that on July 24, and it was an unforgettable experience that had all of the elements that have been so prominently featured in our marriage and family.  

We left Lander at 3:15am so we could be at the trailhead starting right as the sun came up. We enjoyed the first six miles of level hiking with meaningful conversation and also stretches of quiet, before starting up Jackass Pass and making our way to the end of North Lake, from which we’d start our mountain climb. 

Mitchell Peak is a mountain that is special to our family. Jerry and I had climbed it a few times over the years, and each of our sons had climbed the mountain alone on Day 2 of the mother-son rite of passage adventures I took each of them on the summer before they started high school. From Mitchell Peak’s summit, we can see all of the trails and peaks, and so much of the country that we have traveled during our 30 years, as a couple, and through all of the particular stages of raising our sons. 

The mountain climb was hard work, but it was meaningful to share in the struggle, and we were blessed with clear and blue skies so we were able to linger on the summit for more than an hour. It was pure bliss for Jerry and I to share such an experience with our beloved sons and as a family. On the hike down the mountain, the conversation was light and celebratory. We were all pleased that the mountain climb had been successful and relieved that all the hard work was behind us. We stopped at Big Sandy Lake, where Jerry and the boys stripped down and took a polar plunge in the cold waters, even as it started to rain. Afterward we fetched and enjoyed the beverages we had stashed in the icy waters on the hike in, before hiking the remaining six miles back to the trailhead. 

As has so often been the case after these family epic adventures, the boys all slept during the two-hour drive back to town. We were home before sunset and we ordered a feast of pizza and wings and breadsticks and then the boys retreated to their man cave and Jerry and I headed for the hammock in the backyard. Laying side-by-side in the hammock in our backyard, Jerry and I reflected on the experience and we both called it A Perfect Day. It was one of the best days of our life–a life that, fortunately, has been full of many such days. 

Maybe we’ve lost it and/or fallen off our rockers, but as part of our 30th wedding anniversary celebration, Jerry and I offered to spring for tattoos for the family with Mitchell Peak’s GPS coordinates. We knew when we decided this that we may be criticized for the grandiose act, but we concluded, hell yeah and who cares. The boys were excited about it and we went through with it. So now we’re all ‘branded’ in a way that will permanently commemorate our 30th anniversary, our adventurous life as a family, and a mountain that will forever be special to us.

All of the travels and outdoor experiences we’ve shared as a family have strengthened our marriage, and made our journey more meaningful and memorable.

The other “secrets” to our happy marriage could be summed up as Hikes, Happy Hours, Hammocks, and Hot Tubs. When the boys were young, Jerry and I started blocking out time for just the two of us. Even when we didn’t feel we had the time or energy, or the need for it, we remained committed to taking time for our relationship. Often “date nights” mean getting dressed up and going to a restaurant for dinner, but even though we love and appreciate good food, we knew going out to dinner wouldn’t be enough of a motivator for us so we came up with alternatives that were more appealing to us.

For the last 20 years, we’ve gone on many sunrise hikes and also long distance day hikes. Or, we love heading up Sinks Canyon for a “happy (golden) hour”—right before sunset—with takeout dinner, the cribbage board, and a bottle of wine. Or, we love laying in the hammock in our backyard listening to our favorite music, or hanging a hammock between two trees on the banks of the Popo Agie River and spending a couple hours just lounging. We also love spending time in the hot tub. 

It should be mentioned that we couldn’t have kept our commitment to these experiences for just the two of us if not for the generous and loving support of my parents, who would spend time with and watch the boys so Jerry and I could get away for an hour or three. My parents even traveled with us to Hawaii and Lake Tahoe to watch the boys and to “crew” for us when Jerry and I were participating in ultra trail running events. We also had two epic babysitters that we’ll always be grateful to–Korinne Thoren Ryan and Mary Mandel Herrmann.

When the boys were little and our work was most demanding, Jerry and I came up with a strategy for carving out time for intimacy.  I won’t go into detail here, but our strategy for keeping the fire stoked worked brilliantly and it has been yet another difference-maker in our relationship and our marriage.

It also helps that Jerry and I share the same values and that we make a good team.

Foreshadowing

Little did we know the foreshadowing our first backpacking adventure 31 years ago would cast on our relationship and 30-year marriage.

I’m the one who usually has the ideas for our adventures and trips, and they’re usually audacious. From the beginning of our relationship Jerry has been a trooper and almost never says no to my ideas. 

I’m thinking of a memory that illustrates this so perfectly. Ten years ago, I asked Jerry if, for my 44th birthday, he would climb Wind River Peak in a day with me. It was a tall order. We had climbed the mountain before but as part of a three-day backpacking trip. I was asking him to hike 34 miles that would include a mountain climb in the middle of it, in a day. 

As if the adventure wasn’t already hard enough, we’d have to do it on a timeline. Our middle son had a championship baseball game in town that evening that we wanted to be back for. As a result, we woke up at 1:15am, so we could drive to the trailhead and start hiking with headlamps on at 3:15am. Somehow we pulled it off and along the way we experienced some incredible sights, including an encounter with a small herd of elk during a stunning sunrise. But it was unimaginably challenging. With 16 miles already on our legs, and about two-thirds of the way to the top of Wind River Peak, we found ourselves post-holing uphill in thigh-deep snow. Post-holing is always miserable, but particularly so when hiking uphill and at altitude. It was during this stretch that Jerry exclaimed, “Why couldn’t you just want expensive jewelry?!”  

So the adventure is usually harder than we anticipated, but also, it almost always provides more surprises and awe-inspiring rewards than we expected. We have experienced some truly magical moments and breathtaking sights in our many years together, as a couple, and as a family. 

Many of them fall in the category of “Type 2 fun.” Type 2 fun is defined as fun that may have aspects that are challenging—even miserable—but in retrospect has elements of fun. These types of experiences, such as climbing a mountain, or walking 20 miles day after day during our pilgrimage of the Camino de Santiago, or backpacking during an unexpected blizzard on Labor Day, or mistaking 1,300 vertical meters for feet on a 24-mile epic hike in Switzerland, during which it poured rain for the first several miles, came with a lot of struggle, but in the process we had grown closer for having shared in such a challenging experience. After every adventure, we returned as more than we were before, individually, and as a family. They were, and continue to be, hard-earned celebrations.

With 31 years of experience in the outdoors, we are better prepared for our adventures. Among other things, I wear boots that fit (that are usually 1-2 sizes too big), and we never forget to pack, and use, sunblock. We never get a late start. We always start early and are often on the trail when the sun comes up. In all of our family adventures and trips, we start early, and although the boys don’t love waking up so early on our vacations, the system we’ve come up with has worked well for us.

Recently, while everyone was home for the summer, our family had a conversation at dinner one night about this system we had established and kept over the years and everyone agreed it has been a good one. (Essentially, whether we’re traveling or on a local adventure, we start early, usually before or at sunrise and we are usually finished by 2-3pm. During our pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago in northern Spain, we’d start right before sunrise, when everyone else was still sleeping and we enjoyed miles of trail without seeing anyone else. After each day’s trek, the boys would get to enjoy their independence. The system is a win-win because we get to see exciting sights and experience unforgettable adventures as a family but then there’s still time for everyone to get to spend how they wish.  

We still overpack but we have better gear now and our loads are much more manageable. It also doesn’t hurt that our three sons are now big, strong men who are generous enough to carry more of the load.

Sunrises and sunsets have been a big part of our life. Often Jerry and I will go on a hike at sunrise, or on a long epic hike that starts at sunrise and ends at sunset. As a family, we’ve “chased” many sunsets, and we’ve seen Perseid meteor showers, a total eclipse, lunar eclipses, comets, and other stellar experiences.

Not all sunrises and vacations

Our 30 years of marriage hasn’t been all sunrises and vacations, though. Along the way we’ve experienced hardship.

When we started our first company in 1994, we drove 60,000 miles on our high mileage beater Chevy Suburban to all the gateway towns around Yellowstone National Park trying to sell advertising in our new independent newspaper dedicated to Yellowstone. We worked extremely long hours only to generate $18,000 in revenue our first year.

In 1997, just five years into our marriage, we faced a personal financial crisis. Finally all the debt we had accumulated on our high interest personal credit cards from the long distance phone calls and plane tickets during our initial long-distance relationship caught up to us. Barely able to keep the wolf from the door, we finally had to confront it. We had to sell our first home, which we loved and were in for only 18 months, to downsize to a small fixer-upper. It felt humiliating but it also felt good because we were taking responsibility. We worked hard for two years, spending any free time we had renovating the house so we could increase its equity to pay off our debt. Which fortunately, we were able to do in two years’ time. And while I would never recommend spending money you don’t have by charging purchases to a high interest personal credit card, we wouldn’t trade the experience because we’re stronger as a result of it and we are quite pleased with how things turned out. 

In 1998, when we were finally ready to start a family, I got pregnant. But 12 weeks later, I suffered a miscarriage. That was a heartbreaking loss. And due to the type of pregnancy and miscarriage, we had to wait a year before trying again.

Between 2002-2010, Jerry had four major spine operations, two lumbar fusions and two cervical spine fusions. The injuries were not from Jerry’s football injuries in high school and college or from our adventurous romantic activities on rocky outcroppings and mountaintops. Rather, we learned during the first spine doctor visit that Jerry has a degenerative spine condition. Those were some particularly challenging times because all four of the surgeries were major and were not things we took lightly. Not to mention they occurred when our boys were young and my business was at its most demanding. At the same time, I was happy to finally be the one to pick up the slack and to take care of and support Jerry. 

Another hardship for Jerry related to his spine surgeries was the spine specialist strongly urged Jerry to give up three of the activities he loved–running, swimming and biking–including his dream of competing in a Hawaii Ironman. The doctor promised if Jerry would instead focus on hiking and other activities that were not high impact, he could expect to have a long and good quality of life. It wasn’t easy but Jerry was devoted to his recovery following each surgery, and he’s been able to have an extremely active life, free of back and neck pain, since.

In 2006, our cabin was burned down during a Forest Service prescribed burn. That was devastating and happened during a stressful time of our life.

In 2008, 15 years after starting it, we sold our first company to Active Interest Media, a company that at the time owned Backpacker and Yoga Journal and several other lifestyle publications. It was a great fit because I had been reading Backpacker for 25 years. As part of the sale, I stayed on board as a consultant for two years and I helped expand the model to Grand Canyon, Rocky Mountain, Zion, and Yosemite national parks. 

What should have been a time of celebration—a windfall moment that brought ease and financial security to our life—turned out for me to be a mental and physical health rut. I was 35 pounds overweight, sedentary, drinking wine on too many weeknights, and I was depressed. I went to the doctor for my depression and spent the next several months dedicated to transforming my health. What followed for almost two years was similar to my crawling around on all fours at camp at Sapphire Lake 31 years ago. I was doing my best as a mother, but beyond that, I wasn’t of much use. Jerry really stepped up to lighten my load and support me and it made all the difference.

I was able to reinvent my health and by all indications, I burned the ships. While reflecting on our 30 years of marriage, Jerry and I agree that our sustained commitment to our health and fitness has been a difference-maker. Jerry and I are still able to enjoy  20- to 26-mile epic hikes, even if it takes a little longer for us to recover.

We’ve also experienced heartbreaking loss. In recent years, we lost Jerry’s father, and during the pandemic, we lost his mother, his uncle Gilbert, and my Grandma.

Given our ages–Jerry’s 59 and I’m 54–it’s a certainty that we’ll suffer more loss of people we love, and it’s likely we’ll have to contend with illness. I’m relieved and grateful to have Jerry by my side for whatever lies ahead for us.

There is research about geographical slant that suggests that when we look at a mountain, if we look at it with someone we love, or with people we love and/or respect, the mountain will look less steep. This is true also figuratively. Having Jerry by my side for the last 30 years, and as we look to the future, makes our challenges and obstacles seem less formidable.

Happy anniversary to the love of my life

Whenever I make a post on social media for Jerry’s birthday, or for our anniversary, I often refer to him as my “best half.” And I mean it, with all of my heart. But sometimes in response to my calling Jerry my best half, my closest girlfriends may give me a hard time. They adore Jerry and think he’s wonderful, but they don’t want me to sell myself short.

I appreciate their sentiment but I stand by my comment. Because the truth is, I’m a tall order and it takes someone very special to want to–and be able to–be married to me, let alone want to stay married to me.  

Jerry, thank you for choosing me to be your wife and partner in life. Thank you for our amazing sons, and for being such a trooper. Thank you for your loving support and partnership and for our wonderful life. It’s been an unforgettable adventure and I’m so blessed and comforted to have you by my side. Happy anniversary to the love of my life! I love you more than ever, and more than words can say!

• Categories: Adventure, Family, Life and Leadership, Travel
• Tags: 30th anniversary, hard-earned celebration, love, marriage, wedding anniversary
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