Mother-Son Rite of Passage Expedition – One of My Best Ideas, Ever
August 20th, 2015
I’ve had many ideas in my 47 years, but my idea to lead my oldest son, Wolf, on a “Mother-Son Rite of Passage” wilderness expedition is one of my best, ever.
I am married to Jerry (going on 23 years this Saturday!), and we have three sons: Wolf, 15, Hayden, 13, and Finis (“Fin”), 8. For a while now, I have been brainstorming ways to create a “mother-son rite of passage” experience that I could do for each of our three sons.
Howdy.
I settled on leading each of my sons on a wilderness expedition the summer before each started high school. Of course I wanted this to be an adventure that not only Mom thought was a good idea, but also son, so some months ago, I began discussing this with our oldest son, Wolf, who started high school today. Being the first son, Wolf would be the guinea pig for this idea. 🙂
Here’s what Wolf and I came up with: We’d spend 4 days in our “backyard,” Wyoming’s Wind River Range. We’d backpack in about 8 miles the first day. On Day 2, he’d climb a mountain all by himself. Day 3 would be all about fun – we’d take our packrafts, and day hike to a high mountain lake, and also do some fishing. Day 4, we’d return home.
What follows is a pretty long-form travelogue of our experience. It may take you 20 minutes to read. I hope you’ll hang in there and read it, as I share some pretty personal entries from my journal, and I also hope this might inspire you to do something special with your children. The seed for this mother-son rite of passage idea was randomly planted by someone (Eddie Boyer) I met on a Mt. Whitney expedition 4 years ago. I am grateful for the conversation that planted this seed. After that I read a book recommended by my friend, Sharon Terhune, called Let Them Paddle: Coming of Age on the Water, by Alan Kesselheim. And, I also had conversations about rites of passages for my sons with friend Wendy Gebhart. All of these planted seeds that led to this recent adventure. Perhaps reading this blog post will plant a seed for you that will, like it did for me, blossom into something unforgettable. (NOTE: Wolf read and supported, and approved, of my sharing here.)
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First thing’s first, so on Thursday, Aug. 13, as we headed out of town, we stopped at Lander Bake Shop to get breakfast. Wolf picked out a chocolate chip muffin and a huge (“epic”) brownie. About 18 miles out of town, near Red Canyon, Wolf snarfed his brownie, raving about its deliciousness, and saying, “Mom you get brownie points for this breakfast.” Wolf is famous for his puns…
Upon my request, we listened to an OnBeing podcast for the first 45 miles of our 2-hour drive to the trailhead. I picked Krista Tippett’s interview with Pico Iyer about “inner life” and stillness. It was a good pick! We were both inspired especially by these things Pico Iyer said:
• I got out of my car at this monastery, and the air was pulsing. And it was very silent, but really the silence wasn’t the absence of noise, it was almost the presence of these transparent walls that I think the monks had worked very, very hard to make available to us in the world. And somehow, almost immediately, it was as if a huge heaviness fell away from me, and the lens cap came off my eyes. Really almost instantaneously I felt I’ve stepped into a richer, deeper life, a real life that I’d half forgotten had existed.
• The point of gathering stillness is not to enrich the sanctuary or the mountaintop, but to bring that calm into the motion, the commotion of the world.
• When I travel, I travel not so much to move, as to be moved.
By the time we reached the rest area, we decided it was time to rock out to some tunes. Wolf managed the Spotify and we listened to a playlist that included Great Summer, One Day, I Can’t Feel My Face, Afraid of the Dark, Dirty Work, Wagon Wheel, Lean on Me, Rocket Man, Ghost Town, Sail Away, Summer Breeze, Wiseman, In My Mind, and about 10 more songs I can’t right now recall.
The trailhead was more packed than I have ever seen it. Cars were parked alongside the road from the trailhead for probably an ⅛ of a mile. Luckily, we found a spot that was a little closer in than that.
We started down the trail with our 60-pound-plus backpacks on at 9:30am, and we arrived at our special best-kept-secret of a campsite by 1:15pm. I’m a NOLS graduate, and I’m ashamed to say it but NOLS would not have wanted to claim me as one of their graduates! Our packs were too heavy; we packed far too many luxuries, and the packs weren’t packed very pretty, either. At one point, Wolf quipped, “I’m a Wolf, not a pack mule. Why I am a pack mule today?” Wolf’s pack had as much dangling from the outside as it had inside. Oops. But at least we wouldn’t go hungry, and we could offer to feed everyone in the wilderness if we decided to.
Wolf said, “I am a Wolf. So why am I a pack mule today?”
Except for a bunch of ravens, magpies, Clark’s nutcrackers, chipmunks and squirrels, it appeared we had this paradise to ourselves. It was miraculous to me that the parking lot could be so full and yet we’d have this secret spot all to ourselves. We are lucky.
After pitching our tent, I gave Wolf a tour of our site, including views from our “kitchen” area. Looking east, we look directly at Mitchell Peak. It’s right there in front of us. We can see, entirely, the two main routes to the summit. I suggested he would probably ascend the mountain from the end of North Lake, via the most direct route, which follows a steep ravine/spring to a bench before heading up to the summit. (I smile as I explain this, recalling fondly climbing Mitchell Peak recently with some of my Epic Women expedition who expected to find a wooden bench on which to rest once we reached “the bench.”)
Wolf, pointing to the mountain he’d climb on Day 2.
To the southeast of our camp are Haystack Mountain, Steeple and East Temple peaks. It’s a glorious view in all directions.
From my Journal, Aug. 13, 2015:
Right now, Wolf is in the tent napping. He worked so hard to get here! My 5-pound preemie, who’s now 5’8”, 130 pounds, carried that wobbly, overstuffed, 5-story-high backpack without complaint. Not only without complaint, but with cheer, often complimenting me: “Good job, Mom.” and “ I’m proud of you Mom.”
How did we get so lucky? How did I get so lucky?
I am so blessed to be a mother to three beautiful and amazing sons.
I’m getting choked up as I write this. I am overcome with feelings of blessings and gratitude. Wolf came 5 weeks early. He had to be delivered by C-section when it was discovered my amniotic fluid was decreasing at a rapid rate, and he was breech. At birth, he weighed only 5 pounds, and had to remain in critical care in the hospital for 13 days. The doctor kept reassuring us that he would be fine – “his lungs just need time.”
But it was so hard to not be able to hold him against my breast, and my heart.
We would hold onto his little fingers, and he would squeeze our fingers. I would nuzzle his cheek and face and press myself against him as he laid there all hooked up to monitors. We read Robert Service and Mary Oliver poems to him. (Perhaps it’s no wonder he’s an aspiring poet.) Even then, his disposition was upbeat and cheerful, and he was a determined leader. What a blessing! Our first son. Our Wolf Henry Johnson.
Wow. I am overcome with emotions right now… I am sure these happy tears also have much to do with the fact that I’m out here, in my mountains, the Wind River Range, where I am more in touch with myself, and where I love to be.
But make no mistake, it’s not easy out here, and I’m scared of much: Wolf’s mountain climb tomorrow, and his safety. If he’ll get altitude sickness or suffer from dehydration. The clouds, that are developing and dark, and it’s only 3pm. How high the stakes are out here. What I may or may not learn about myself. Anytime I am raw and exposed and trusting – oh, the list goes on and on and on!
And yet, I like myself out here. I am who I am. I’m reminded of a favorite quote from Cheryl Strayed’s Wild: “Being in the wild gathers me. It astonishes me. It quiets the negative voices inside of me and allows the more constructive ones to talk. It humbles me. It reminds me of how small I am, which has the reverse effect of making me feel gigantic inside.”
Like most people, I have an inner critic. And mine needs no support. I can beat the crap out of myself internally. This makes me sad, that I can be so self critical, and it sometimes makes my life harder than it should be. Being out here in the wilderness opens me up in a way that I am very aware of my inner critic, and yet, as Strayed wrote, being out here quiets the negative voices. It quiets my inner critic. As a result, I like myself a little more than I normally do.
Of course the most important aspect of right now is that I’m here with Wolf. This is our first son, and my first Mother-Son Rite of Passage expedition. What a gift!
When we started down the trail today, I asked Wolf what his goals for our adventure were. He said, “I want to grow, and to return changed in some way. And I want to have fun with you, Mom.”
I shared that I also wanted for him to get the chance to grow, for our relationship to grow, for me to grow as a mom, and that I also wanted us to have a lot of fun.” (And we both added something about having s’mores every night since we brought a full box of graham crackers, a package of chocolate bars and an entire bag of marshmallows – exactly enough for only the two of us!)
As we hiked in earlier today, I kept recalling Wolf’s entry into this world. How he struggled. Sorta similar to how his legs and back were struggling under his terribly-packed, too-big backpack. Yet all the same, his attitude was amazing. He was telling everyone we passed to have a great day, and he was cheering me. Already Wolf is a great leader… In some ways he’s a stronger leader than I am, despite the fact he’s only 15, and I’m 47, and have been working at leadership for some time now.
I am feeling so much right now. Thank you God! Thank you Jerry! I am so grateful to Jerry, and for Hayden and Fin, who are so supportive of Wolf’s and my adventure. (It will be Hayden’s turn next year, and Fin’s in 6 years.) Thank you to my parents, who moved us from Iowa to Wyoming when I was 3. What a gift that has been.
If I do nothing else, God, please help me to BE MY BEST for my boys and for Jerry, and TO BE HERE with them. I mean this literally, of course, but as importantly, I mean this from a mental standpoint. I have a habit of thinking and dreaming about the future. It’s hard for me to stay in the present, as much as I try. Being out in the wilderness for some reason is a help for me. Nowhere is it easier for me to be in the present. At all other times and places, it’s a constant challenge for me to be right here right now. And I’ve read enough to know that the key to making the most of our time is to be in the present, and not thinking about the past or worrying or dreaming about the future. Perhaps I spend so much time in the wilderness because it is a fast-track for helping me to stay in the present.
Seneca said “Life is long enough if you know how to use it.”
I think I know how to use it. If only I can be deliberate and conscious.
I am thinking now of a favorite poem by Jack London, which I know by heart:
I would rather be ashes than dust!
I would rather that my spark should burn out
in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom
of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time.
So I will use my time.
This mother-son rite of passage trip with Wolf is about using my time.
There is nobody I’d rather be with, and nowhere else I’d rather be than with Wolf, right here and right now!
God, please keep us safe. Please keep Jerry, Hayden and Fin (and Buddy) safe. Please keep my parents and sisters and brother and their families safe. Please keep Jerry’s family safe. Keep all of our friends safe.
A short video about the mountain climb:
Our shadows in camp on Day 1.
I love this kid!
From my Journal – Fri., Aug. 14, 2015:
2:30am came early – and yet, heck, if I wasn’t going to sleep, why not get up in the middle of the night??!
Of course I got almost no sleep, despite the fact I took 2 Advil PM, and despite that we went to bed at 6:30pm. (This was Wolf’s idea since we would have an alpine start for his mountain climb. A very wise young man, to be sure.)
I was glad to hear him sleeping well, though. For today is mostly his day, and it’s a big one. He will climb Mitchell Peak! As I tossed and turned at night, I was filled with anxiety. “Am I being reckless encouraging my son to climb a mountain all by himself? What if the clouds develop into a storm and he’s on the summit, or near the summit – how will he know if and when to turn back? Am I crazy to have had this idea?”
With the light of our headlamps, and under a black sky that was brimming with a bazillion stars, I made him some hot chocolate and poptarts, and me, oatmeal and strong coffee. 2 cups. We left camp at 4am. The plan was for me to get him started up the route a bit before we’d part ways and meet up after his mountain climb.
Right after leaving camp, we stopped at the outlet to North Lake to fill and treat some water. To our surprise, two other headlamped hikers passed us and started up the trail a little bit ahead of us. We hit the trail and moved slowly. We had some time to kill because I didn’t want Wolf starting up route-finding in the dark – what with with all of the bears lurking in the brush and all.
So I suggested we stop in the trail, about halfway around the lake and turn our headlamps off. We watched the dark sky that was filled with a bazillion stars. We could see the black ridgelines and peaks around us silhouetted…including Mitchell Peak. As we stood in silence admiring the sky and the stars, we spied four shooting stars. We each made silent wishes for the ones we saw, and then we saw a fifth together and made a wish that Wolf’s mountain climb would go well, and that Mom would survive as well. 🙂 It was a really sweet and unforgettable moment watching the stars and seeing shooting stars with my Wolf on a such a glorious and quiet morning. It felt like we were the only ones in the Universe at that moment, and I won’t ever forget it.
We reached the end of North Lake, and still, it was quite dark. So we sat on a rock, and I encouraged us to finish off the bottle of water we had started drinking earlier. We sat there for a half hour, sometimes talking, sometimes in silence. I have really grown to love silence. It is not empty, but full. Until a few years ago I was always filling the quiet that sometimes popped up in conversation. Now, I long for a certain amount of silence, even amidst groups of people, and in conversation. I recall something acoustic ecologist Gordon Hempton says. That silence is an endangered species. Hempton defines real quiet as presence – not an absence of sound but an absence of noise. He said in an interview I heard a while back: “Quiet is the think tank of the soul.”
As we sat in silence under the stars, which were starting to disappear with the first light of the day, I wondered what Wolf was thinking about.
We sat for another few minutes and then went to a nearby spring to top off his water bottles for the day.
He asked if I could capture a short video before we parted ways so we took a minute to do that, and then we started up the very bottom of the mountain from the northeast end of North Lake.
Wolf, about to start up the mountain.
After a little bit of navigating and getting him on track up the ravine, we looked back to see a spectacular alpenglow on Warbonnet Peak. The tip of it was on fire with the rising sun. We stopped to admire and photograph the moment before continuing on. This is why I start so early – to witness sights like this one of a peak totally lit up and on fire by the first rays of the sun. With its wonder, came a feeling of reassurance.
Alpenglow on Warbonnet Peak.
We agreed we’d meet to descend the lower half of the mountain together… probably somewhere right below the ridgeline between Mitchell Peak and Big Sandy Mountain.
We hugged, and I looked him in the eyes and told him to have fun, to remember to drink some water and to occasionally take a break to look around at the scenery and to catch his breath and get his bearings. I added, “The views from the top are amazing in all directions and you don’t have to stand on the end of an overhanging rock to reap the rewards. Please don’t get too close to the edge.” “Okay, Mom,” he said.
Wolf and I hugged and I told him, “I love you more than life itself and everything in the world.”
“I love you too Mooma J. You’re the best mom in the Universe,” he said. And with that, he was off.
The sky was shaping up to be clear and blue, and this made me happy. The fewer uncertainties for this occasion, the better!
I headed in the opposite direction and soon found a boulder to sit on, where I proceeded to cry. I spied Wolf marching enthusiastically toward Mitchell, vigorously using his trekking poles, very much on a mission. For a while I spied him through the binoculars, “mountain goating” his way up and through the boulders and tundra, ascending the mountain.
Where was my 5-pound little baby? Or my 3-year-old Wolfie? Or my 6-year-old Wolfie, or my 10 or 11- or 12- or 13- or 14-year-old Wolf for that matter? Who was this 5’8”, energetic, strong, determined young man who was marching up through boulders to a summit all on his own?
“Where has the time gone?” I asked, out loud, to myself, as I sat alone amidst a landscape littered with granite.
Don’t we all always ask this question?
I sat on my rock with the sun warming my back as it rose behind me and the ridge that connects Mitchell Peak and Big Sandy Mountain, and for 10 minutes I meditated on the last 15 years, and then I knew where the 15 years had gone, and what an amazing 15 years it has been!
After my meditation, I spied Wolf again through the binoculars. Once I spotted him crouched down, I think taking photos of flowers. Another time he was sitting on a rock drinking water. (“Good boy!”)
Did I mention that this sitting here while my first son climbs a mountain on his own, is a rite of passage not only for Wolf, but also for his Mom? Perhaps as much a rite of passage for me as it is for Wolf. As I sit here, it is so exciting. AND so very difficult. I worry about Wolf. I worry that I’m being reckless. That he’ll get his leg pinned between two boulders. That he’ll tumble and hit his head on a rock. That once he’s on the summit he’ll get too close to the edge. After all, I won’t be there to remind him not to get too close to the edge, and to be careful, which are things I nag the boys about, probably too often, whenever we’re in the wilderness.
I know these feelings I’m having right now are important. It’s important for me to have this discomfort and to let go and to trust. It’s important for Wolf to climb a mountain all by himself. And yet, every now and again, I ask myself, “Whose idea was this?!”
One of the biggest fears I have is living a conventional life. And along with that, not providing meaningful or unique experiences for my sons. One of my most important goals is to create, and have, meaningful connections with all, but also each, of my sons (and Jerry, too). This Rite of Passage expedition was part of this effort to create meaningful and unforgettable experiences.
This is not to say this is easy. Today is not easy! For example, it would be much easier for me if Wolf was not climbing a mountain by himself right now! I didn’t sleep last night mainly because I was a nervous wreck, and also questioning whether this whole idea of his solo mountain climb was reckless. Of course I knew this was an intentional trip, and I knew it was a great idea, and yet something about night time and not sleeping caused me tremendous anxiety about this idea.
So I had asked Wolf, again, while sitting at the end of North Lake waiting for enough light to start up, “Do you want to do this? Because I want you to want to do this, and to climb the mountain for you, not for me.”
“Yes, I definitely want to climb the mountain,” he said.
I recalled his eloquent feelings about the mountain climb that he shared last night in camp as we looked and plotted possible routes up the mountain. He had said, “I am excited to the climb the mountain, but my biggest fear is about being alone in a place I don’t yet know or understand. But I think I’ll grow from facing my fear.”
Oh, how I love this kid!
The radio came on and it was Wolf, exclaiming that he was over the summit ridge. “I am over the ridge and I can see the Cirque of the Towers, and it’s amazing!” I told him congrats, and that the sky was clear, so he should take some time up there.
Wolf’s self portrait on the top of Mitchell Peak.
Summit cairn with Wolf’s backpack. (Photo by Wolf).
I hiked up a little higher, to the ridge, and for 20-30 minutes I sat on another big rock and meditated. I thought of Wolf, and when he was conceived (in these mountains!), and snapshots went through my mind of our life with him up to the present moment. My mind wandered at least 100 times to the summit and thoughts and concerns about Wolf on the summit, but each time I brought my attention back to my breath – and to MY HEART – and to my thoughts of our Wolf.
W. Wise
O. Original
L. Leader
F. Fun/Funny
A while later, Wolf radioed and asked me to get a photo of the summit because he was standing there with his arms in the air. I couldn’t see him with my naked eyes, but I zoomed in on the summit and snapped a photo.
After an hour or so, he started descending and after a while, we met up. We embraced for an extended time. He was excited and rambling about the sights from the top, and his experience of climbing to the summit, and of being up there all by himself for so long. There were feelings of gratitude, and realizations he had “up there” that he wants do something about upon his return.
My son, Wolf, and I.
The scene as I waited for Wolf to return from his mountain climb. Indian paintbrush, asters and the Cirque of the Towers.
After stopping to share 2 chocolate bars, we continued down the mountain and were back at camp by 1 o’clock.
Tired, we retreated to the the tent for a nap. Wolf laid “in my right wing,” like he used to do. As he slept in my arm, I reflected on the young man that Wolf has become. I couldn’t sleep, but I was content just being horizontal and listening to Wolf’s breathing, up close and near to him, similar to how I did when he was in critical care during his first hours and days in the world.
It was peaceful. And perfect.
BTW, I can also hear more than Wolf’s breathing. In fact, there is so much raucous activity around us it’s a wonder that Wolf is sleeping. I don’t know if the birds that are so unwelcoming in this site are Clark’s nutcrackers or Gray Jays – or both! These birds are perched mostly at the tops of pine trees that are towering over our tent and throughout our camp. They fly from one perch to another, and they make a very loud and raucous call to one another. It is rather unwelcoming, and at least for me, unsettling. When they fly over, the ruffling of their feathers is loud and notable. Yet, Wolf sleeps on like a baby.
When these birds swoop over us from tree to tree, making their loud calls, I feel sorry – at least for a moment – to have intruded. It is so obvious by their behavior and calls that we’re not welcome, and that in fact, we’re intruding. Please forgive our trespassing, I say in a whisper, but I’m also sorry to say that we will not moving our camp, so please, deal with us. I try to tune out their great noise to return my attention to listening to Wolf’s breathing. The camp is so alive and loud it is probably not dissimilar to being under the bridge of a freeway, complete with honking horns and sirens all about. But I’m glad we’re in a lively wilderness and not near a freeway.
At 3pm, we get out of the tent and I set up the stove to make my famous epic buttery-fried, cheesy quesadillas. Wolf eats 4 of them, exclaiming often how yummy they are. For my part, I eat 2. We were both hungry, and these sure hit the spot. (And besides, we need to be lightening our loads!)
We sit there, with Mitchell Peak looming, and expansive views, not saying much. Wolf plays some tunes for us on my phone, and individually we write in our journals. I notice Wolf at turns, staring off into the space, deep in thought, and at turns writing fast and furiously in his journal. At turns, I wonder what he’s writing, and at turns, I’m filling the pages of my journal with reflections of the day.
One time, as we both paused from journaling, I said, “If it’s not too much to handle, I should tell you that you were conceived out here in the wilderness.”
“Really?” he asked. Then he was quiet, as if processing what that meant.
“That’s probably why you’re such a natural in the outdoors,” I added.
“That’s cool,” he said, smiling broadly.
We walked down to the outlet of North Lake, to do dishes and refill our water bottles.
On the back to camp, Wolf offered to carry the huge, 2-gallon water jug up the steep hill.
I told him there’s a Zen saying, Chop Wood, Carry Water that means getting back to the basics. I explained it means doing the work, and doing it well. Being mindful even of the simple and sometimes-mundane tasks we must do, that are important even if mundane and routine. He liked that, and asked me to snap a photo of him “carrying water.”
Chop wood. Carry water.
We’re back at camp and chilling in the kitchen area again. This area of our camp is an overlook – a perch for us. It is pure joy for me right now to be hanging out with my oldest son, Wolf, who is a wonderful human being. It is not work to be with him. We sit here, with his mountain, Mitchell Peak, as a backdrop.
Wolf, reading a pocket book called Zen from our “kitchen” area of camp. That’s Haystack, Steeple and East Temple peaks in the background.
I am here right now, and nowhere else. And this place I’m in is JOY. Pure joy.
Thank you to all who are responsible for this epic life of mine. There are many of you responsible, and I am grateful!
As if things can’t get any better, they do. We eat s’mores. Lots of s’mores.
Then, I move over to sit next to Wolf. It’s the perfect set of rocks because it’s like a recliner and we both fit in it. I ask him if I can share some of what I’ve written in my journal, and he says yes. I read from the pages of my journal, and I lose it. I’m overcome with emotion, and once again, I’m in tears. I’m happy crying again as I read the words and reflections of our time so far. He holds my hand, and we squeeze each other, as I stumble through my tears to get the words out that are in my journal. Wolf holds me and makes sure I’m okay. He’s moved too. He also has tears. We hold each other, much like we did when he was a small boy, only this time son is taking care of mom more than mom is taking care of son…
Then, he turns his head to behind us, to the southeast, and he exclaims, “Mom, there’s a rainbow!” And there, over Haystack, Steeple and East Temple peaks is a rainbow. Unbelievable! Both of us reach for our cameras to try and capture the moment forever. Shooting stars in the morning, young boy climbs a mountain all by himself. Mommy survives the “ordeal” and enjoys a meditation that is like turning through the pages and reliving the last 15 years as a mother to young boy. Mother and son cuddle while son naps in tent amidst a camp that is alive with wild critters. Mom and son share intimate details about their individual experiences and journal reflections. We eat s’mores! Then a perfect rainbow appears. Then a double rainbow.
A perfect ending to a perfect day. At some point words just fall short. Like right now.
Another blessing on Day 2. The day started with shooting stars. Then Wolf climbed a mountain by himself. Then this rainbow happened.
The next day we sleep until we woke up naturally. No 2:30am alarm. Yeehaw to that! Today is all about leisure and fun.
As the sun rose behind Big Sandy Mountain, it backlit Wolf as he talked to me about girls, starting high school, running, playing piano, his friends, his brothers, and a bunch of things. I relished as my oldest son talked so freely, and I was able to learn more about him and his world.
Wolf, backlit by the rising sun on Day 3.
Around 10am, we left camp to hike with our packrafts and fishing rods to the Clear Lake area. But halfway to Clear Lake, we met three women from Seattle who reported Clear Lake being crowded with some large groups. I suggested to Wolf that we hike instead to Deep Lake, one of the most beautiful places I know of. As usual, Wolf was a trooper.
Wolf, on his way up to Deep Lake.
Once at Deep Lake, we inflated our packrafts and set sail on Deep Lake. We floated under massive granite mountains called Haystack, Steeple and East Temple peaks. And, we could see Mitchell Peak and the Cirque of the Towers over yonder.
Wolf, taking the Denali Lllama packraft on its maiden voyage.
Yeehaw! Wolf and I on the water at Deep Lake.
After floating for over an hour, we docked our rafts on a slab of granite on the shore, and got out our journals. (Wolf and I are a lot alike. We both love to read, journal and capture photos, and we both seek out, and enjoy, pockets of solitude)
From my Journal – Sat., Aug. 15, 2015:
While sitting here on the shore of Deep Lake, we had what Wolf fondly referred to as some “Deep Talks.”
Deep Talk #1: Wolf asked me, “When I was conceived here, how did you get me to the hospital?” At this, I laughed out loud. I told him he wasn’t delivered in the wilderness. We conceived him in the wilderness. “You know – you were “made” here. You were formed and created out here.” To this, he gasped, and then laughed. He had misunderstood me the day before when I mentioned he was conceived out here. He thought I meant he was born out here. “Big difference!” I said. “We wouldn’t be so irresponsible as to require a search and rescue helicopter to deliver you. We laughed. The more he processed what conceived meant, the less he wanted to know… 😉
Deep Talk #2: After a little bit of fishing, with no luck, we both returned to our journaling. As he sat there writing, I looked off to Mitchell Peak, and wondered to myself about the coming months and years, and how as Wolf gets older and more independent, I’ll be less able to keep him safe. This gave me an idea for what this rite of passage was really about for me, and if agreed, for us.
I asked Wolf if there were promises we could make to each other as a result of this mother-son rite of passage experience. I suggested that I would like to promise him that “I will trust you more, from this day forward, as you get older and I’m less able to keep you safe. But this will be hard for me,” I said. “It would be easier for me to trust you if you could make me a promise that you won’t be reckless – and that you won’t get too close to the edge.” I told him, using yesterday’s mountain climb as a metaphor, what I mean is that I want to trust and support him to climb tall mountains in his life — to be daring and to do things that are hard but that will generate more aliveness for him, and cause him to become more and better than he was before… but that I need to know that in the process, he won’t be reckless about it, and that he won’t get too close to the edge.
I shared examples of what I would see as examples in real life of being reckless and getting too close to the edge.
So I said, “Wolf, I promise I will trust you more and begin to let go more, from this day forward.” And he responded, “And I promise I will not be reckless or get too close to the edge.”
These promises to each other, as mother and son, mark the “rite of passage” part of our adventure.
I let this sink in for both of us.
As I did, I recalled in my mind, Kahlil Gibran’s “On Children” from The Prophet:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
Then, Wolf laughed, again remarking at how great it was to have these “deep talks” at Deep Lake. We both agreed we would not forget this conversation.
On our way down from Deep Lake on Day 3.
We noticed big clouds developing above us behind Temple Peak. So we quickly deflated and packed our rafts and our bags and starting descending toward Clear Lake. It thundered behind us and we moved quickly to get lower and into the forest. We had wanted to cast a line in Clear Lake – to catch that fish for Pa-Grandpa – but with the thunder and wind, we hiked briskly past the lake and started descending toward Big Sandy Lake.
Once at Big Sandy Lake, the clouds gave way to blue sky, but only above Big Sandy. We could see dark developing clouds over our camp above, so Wolf suggested we try fishing at Big Sandy Lake. “It’s blue sky over us now. It’s a sign. We should at least try,” he said.
We fished for 10 minutes, to no avail. We didn’t spot a single fish and the water was a little rough. Still, it was a nice, sunny break, and if nothing else, we had tried.
We loaded our packs on again and started the 500-foot-vertical-feet-grunt back to our camp.
Once at camp, I made “Mommy’s famous Epic pancakes” for dinner. Tons of them. Wolf snarfed several of them enthusiastically, and I was right there with him, snarfing epic pancakes.
Making “Mommy’s Famous Epic Pancakes” for dinner on Day 3.
Then, we walked down to the watering hole to do dishes and refill our water bottles. We were spying small brook trout every time we refilled, so Wolf asked to bring his rod and try one more time to catch a fish in honor of Pa-Grandpa’s birthday. Lo and behold, after about 10 minutes of teasing the fish with a fly, he caught one! We snapped a quick photo, sent out a salute to Pa-Grandpa, and then let it loose.
Wolf caught a fish on Day 3, in honor of his late Pa-Grandpa’s birthday.
Back at camp, I shared the poem, IF, by Rudyard Kipling. As I hoped would happen, Wolf loved it. It really resonated for him. So much so that he asked me to video capture him reading it with Mitchell Peak in the background. I video’d him reading IF, and listening to him recite the poem, in our camp, was dream-like. (If you’re interested, the video is at the end of this post)
Then, we each did some writing in our journals. A few minutes into it, Wolf started crying. I asked him if he was okay, and he walked over to me and embraced me, and said, “Thanks Mom. I am just so happy. Thank you for everything.”
I told him it is an honor and a privilege to be his mother, and I thanked him for being him. I remarked at how I can still remember, so vividly, the first time I met him, “and now look at you. And look at us!”
We made a small fire and finished off our s’mores. How else can we wrap up our last night of the expedition?!
Timer shot by our fire.
I think to myself: It doesn’t get any better than this.
Throughout this adventure, whenever I have complimented Wolf on his hiking, or what a great young man or leader he is, he has often responded by saying, “Thank you. I get it from my great parents.” Or, “I get it from my epic mom.”
Here’s what I know right now: The part of me that is the best version of me as a Mother… I get that from Wolf, (and also from Hayden and Fin.)
So at the end of today’s hike, when I complimented him on another great day, and he responded by saying, “Thanks, I get it from my great parents,” I responded by saying, “Wolf, I get a lot from you, too.”
I thought back to the goals we shared as we started down the trail, and felt good, like we got what we came for. Wolf grew. I grew. We grew. And we had a lot of fun, too. I will never forget our adventure.
When we entered the tent for our last night at camp, Wolf fell asleep almost immediately. I, on the other hand, had a mind that wouldn’t turn off.
One of the biggest struggles I have, on an almost daily basis, is wondering if I’m a good mom, and worrying about whether I’m a good enough mom. This isn’t unique to me. I know from all of the women in my life, personal and professional, that we struggle with whether we’re good enough. Men, also, have these struggles. I know because I work with men and women who struggle often with their inner critic(s), often times in the context of their role as a parent.
As I lay there with Wolf sleeping in my right wing, in our tight quarters of a tent, I feel something I don’t often feel – proud of myself. Not only proud of myself, but proud of myself as a mom.
I have had lots of ideas in my life, and many of them have been good ones. But this mother-son Rite of Passage expedition was one of my best ideas, ever.
Thank you so much for reading and sharing in this particular journey with me.
Here’s the video of Wolf reading the poem, IF:
- Categories: Adventure, Family, Life and Leadership
- Tags: backpacking, epic adventure, mother son, motherhood, parenting, rite of passage
- Comments: 12 Comments
