an epic life

A Mother-Son “Rite of Passage” Adventure with my youngest son, Finis

September 10th, 2021

“And she loved a little boy very, very much, even more than she loved herself.” – Shel Silverstein

I recently embarked on a 4-day backpacking adventure with my youngest son, Fin, who is 14 and a freshman in high school.

We started at Big Sandy Opening, in Wyoming’s southern Wind River Range. Our itinerary would include time at Big Sandy Lake, North Lake, Jackass Pass and Mitchell Peak, and Clear and Deep lakes.

The first time Fin was on this trail was in late August six years ago when our family backpacked to Clear Lake for Labor Day. I remember planning that adventure. Jerry and I, and Fin’s older brothers, Wolf and Hayden, all agreed it would be best if we required Fin, the youngest son by 5 years and who was much smaller than his brothers at the time, to carry only a fanny pack. We didn’t want the adventure to be too difficult for him and we figured this would lead to minimal complaints on the trail from the youngest/smallest member of our family.

It worked. With a fanny pack containing only a small bag of Cheetos and a little pocket knife, Fin would skip ahead of us, arms swinging in joy. Whenever Jerry, I, Wolf, or Hayden complained about the crushing weight of our packs, Fin would exclaim, “my back doesn’t hurt at all!” before frolicking up ahead.

On this day, as Fin and I set out on our adventure, he was singing a different tune. Now, towering over me at 5’11” and weighing 160 pounds, Fin carried more than a little fanny pack. A lot more.

Fin is in a growth spurt, but even if he wasn’t, food has always been Fin’s love language. And his oversized pack proved it. I was sure we packed too much food, and yet didn’t want to risk not having enough food, or to be missing various snacks Fin had requested, including but not limited to Gardettos, Cheetos, hot dogs, homemade cookies, beef jerky, and Red Vines.  

Fin and I were embarking on our “mother-son rite of passage” adventure. Several years ago, I had the idea to take each of my sons on a 4-day wilderness adventure the summer before they start high school. The inspiration for this came from my wanting to connect in a unique and meaningful way with each of my sons, individually, at a point in their life when they were pursuing greater independence. It started with our oldest son, Wolf, six years ago, and a year later, I took our middle son, Hayden. This summer it was Fin’s turn. 

At 53 years old, and after a 5-year hiatus since the last one, I worried about whether I could do it. I am grateful for good health!

Fin is short for Finis (pronounced Fine-us.) We named our youngest son after the late Finis Mitchell, a legend in these parts. 

Finis Mitchell was born in Missouri in 1904 and when he was five years old, his father moved the family to Wyoming. At age 22, Finis went to work for Union Pacific Railroad, and a couple of years later, married Emma Nelson. They had two children, Anna and William. During the Great Depression, Finis was laid off from the railroad, after which Finis–an explorer and naturalist since childhood–and his wife started “Mitchell’s Fishing Camp” in Big Sandy Opening, in Wyoming’s southern Wind River Range. For seven years, Finis and Emma took people on horses they borrowed from a local rancher to go fishing in the high country.

From an article published on WyoHistory.org by Rebecca Hain on August 24, 2018: To increase the number of fish for the success of their camp, and also as part of a larger citizen volunteer effort coordinated by the Wyoming Game and Fish Commission to introduce more trout species into the waters of the Wind Rivers, Finis and Henry (his dad) hauled in small trout—fingerlings—to lakes near their camp. In 1931, Finis and his father took six horses, each loaded with two milk cans of water containing about 1,000 fingerlings, up rough trails to empty the cans into various lakes. The fingerlings were supplied by the fish hatchery at Daniel, Wyo. In this tricky process, the water in the cans had to be oxygenated by sloshing around. Burlap covered the cans, letting air in but keeping the trout from spilling out. During the 1930s, Finis, by his own estimate, stocked about 2.5 million fingerlings in 314 lakes.

In other words, the people who travel from all over the world to enjoy the spectacular trout fishing found in the upper reaches of the Wind River Range, have Finis Mitchell and his family to thank for it.

I shared all of this with Fin as we hiked up the trail.  

Fin and I brought along our puppy, Chewbacca, who goes by “Chewy.” We rescued Chewy last September when he was just 6 weeks old and the size of a guinea pig. Fin and Chewy were immediately smitten with each other and we figured it would be fun to have Chewy along. And besides, Chewy would carry his own pack full of food.

It wasn’t long and Fin requested a break. We found a rock that was big enough for him to sit on while not removing his pack and having enough room for its weight to be supported. We would do this many more times, and after the first few, I caught myself thinking, at this rate, we’ll never get to camp. Thankfully I noticed my agitation and reminded myself we had all day to cover 7.5 miles and that in fact, Fin wasn’t complaining. He simply was asking for short rests along the way.

I was fortunate enough to get to walk Fin to and from school from Kindergarten all the way through fifth grade. What a blessing that was as I have so many wonderful memories of conversations shared as Fin held my hand and we walked to and from school.

From the earliest of our school walks, Fin’s curiosity was revealed, and he noticed everything. We stopped frequently, to get a closer look at a particular bug, patterns on the street, birds, sounds in the air, the clouds, and more. He noticed that our shadows made our legs look unusually long during the morning but then were nowhere to be found on our walks home from school. Fin was full of wonderment, and joy and delight came easy to him.  

On many such occasions, I would think to myself that Fin was teaching me something valuable–to slow down and to look around.  Fin was never in a hurry, fascinated by seemingly ordinary things and I remember thinking about how I could benefit by applying such a philosophy to my own life.

So remembering all this, every time Fin requested a break, I agreed to it. He’d say, “Sorry.” And I’d say, “Don’t be sorry. We have all day to get to camp.” I felt bad that he felt the need to apologize. I have a lot of energy and enthusiasm, which may translate to a faster pace when hiking, or doing anything for that matter. I remind myself how annoying this could be to others, including Fin.

One of the reasons I love spending so much time in the wilderness is it’s the easiest place for me to be present, and in the moment. In almost all other situations, I tend to be future-oriented, always thinking about things to come, about ideas and possibilities, and in the process risking missing what’s happening in the moment.

As Fin and Chewy and I hiked, I felt that familiar sense of belonging and presence and a relief came over me that I would indeed be here with Fin, and only here. And oh, how I had been looking forward to this!

I have kept a record of many of the things Fin said or asked during those hundreds of school walks, as well as at other times. 

One time after picking him up from preschool we hurried home and I made a fast lunch because I was apparently starving. As we sat next to each other at the kitchen table, and I wolfed down my lunch, Fin remarked, seriously and with sincerity, “Good job chewing like a cow, Mommy.” 

Another time I came downstairs wearing a dress, which was unusual, and Fin, upon noticing, complimented me, saying, “I like your costume, Mommy.” 

Fin could be serious, too. One time on the way home from preschool, Fin inquired, “Mommy, how many lives do we have?” 

I love hiking with my sons. If we’re wandering down a mountain trail, I don’t have to work to prompt the boys into conversation. Walking somehow inspires them to talk, and to share more openly about what’s on their mind than they would normally share. 

Since our sons were babies, they have been on the trail with us. We carried them in front packs and then child-carrying backpacks until they could use their little legs to hike on their own. For better or worse, our sons never really had a choice when it came to hiking and spending time outdoors. 

Jerry and I were married for seven years before starting our family. While I was pregnant with our first son, Wolf, Jerry and I would talk about the kind of life we wanted to provide for our family. We both love the outdoors and believe strongly that time in nature is important to one’s mental and physical health, and that it can provide inspiration and facilitate self reliance and leadership while fostering curiosity and a connection with the natural world. 

So, when our boys were young, we didn’t ask them if they wanted to go hiking. Rather, we’d say, “Today we’re going hiking!” Jerry and I considered time spent outdoors to be a core value for us and our family so if we were serious about it, we’d have to walk the talk.

It’s not easy to be an outdoor family. It doesn’t happen naturally. It takes a lot of extra work to take a baby or small children into the wilderness. You have to accept that it will be more work and go through with it, anyway. I have so many memories of trying to get our small sons out the door and onto the trail. At times it was tempting to just throw our arms up in the air and cancel, but we persisted. And what a difference it has made. 

We came up with tips and tricks to make it easier and more enjoyable for the boys. Our most effective strategy was implementing the “trail fairy.” We’d be spread out in a line on some uphill trail and one (or more) of the boys would be complaining, wanting to stop. Jerry or I would secretly toss a baggie into the air and it would land up ahead on the trail in front of the sons. (Or Jerry or I–whoever was up front of the pack, would deposit a small bag in the middle of the trail for an oncoming son to discover.) The little bag would have treats in it with a note saying “You are doing amazing” or “what a great hiker you are!”) . When our sons would discover these treats and notes, it would energize them and provide enthusiasm that was good for another quarter or half mile of hiking. 

On some of our usual hiking routes, there are prominent rocks and other landmarks that over the years we named Rootbeer Rock, Butterfinger Rock, Kit Kat Corner, and so on. These were points to shoot for when the boys were little and tired and complaining, where we’d promise the boys their favorite treats.

I’m pretty sure that if we had asked our boys if they wanted to go hiking, they may have declined, especially some of the longer ones we’ve taken over the years as a family. As a teenager, I’m not sure I would have chosen a hike over time with my friends, a movie, or just about anything else that was easier and more fun. In fact, I’m pretty sure, if asked, I wouldn’t have. 

I was raised in Wyoming, and when I was young, my parents would take our family on seemingly never-ending road trips through the Red Desert, up the Loop Road and through South Pass City, and/or to Yellowstone and back in a day. At the time, I didn’t necessarily love those experiences and I probably wouldn’t have chosen to do them if given a choice, and yet those experiences continue to positively impact and inform my life. I am hoping, and trusting, that all of the hikes and outdoor adventures we’ve taken our sons on will do the same.

Fin has proven on several occasions what a capable hiker he is. When he was only 9 years old, he hiked a few 20-mile-plus day hikes on our Switzerland stop during our first European vacation. When he was 11, he hiked several 20-mile-plus days during our family’s pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago. At age 12, he hiked for miles climbing volcanoes and traversing glaciers in Iceland, and he’s done 18-mile family day hikes in our beloved Wind Rivers. He did all of these with little complaint. (In fact, when I picture him during many of those hikes, I can see his happy gait, with his arms swinging as he hiked.)

Still, it would not surprise me if at times Fin and his brothers wished they had been born into a different family, at least a family with a different mom! 

I wondered if Fin had been thinking this in the weeks before our adventure, and particularly now, as his feet were sinking into the ground with each step given the weight of his oversized backpack. 

After a few miles, I asked Fin what his goal was for the trip and he said, “To be able to climb the mountain and to have fun.” I told him my goal was to have fun and to cherish the time in the mountains with him. I thanked him for sharing this adventure with me.

In recent years, as Fin has gotten older, I’ve felt a distance forming between us. I think this is normal. It happened with the older boys, too. When a child reaches a certain age, he starts to push away from his parents. He is growing up and wants more independence. It makes sense that boys don’t want to cuddle with their moms like they did when they were toddlers. Nevertheless, I was longing for four days of one-on-one time with my youngest son in the great outdoors.

As we walked, I reminded myself to speak to Fin in his language–to ask him about things that I know he’s interested in and passionate about. I asked him about the video games he loves playing, and he shared, quite enthusiastically, about some of his favorites. Then we talked about his various friendships. We went down the list of his best friends and for each, I asked him what he likes and values most about each. This requires some reflection on his part but he comes up with thoughtful responses for each, and in the process, I learn a little more about Fin and the qualities he values in a friend and friendship, and in people for that matter.

Before long, we spy water and arrive at Big Sandy Lake. We are thrilled to have most of today’s distance behind us and we are both looking forward to an extended break that will, at least for Fin, include lots of eating.

Fin has always loved to eat, and is a master at it. Right now, he’s experiencing a significant growth spurt, so his appetite is even more noteworthy. (He has grown 8” in the last 1.5 years and the doctor predicts he could grow another 6”.) It can sometimes feel like a full-time job keeping him fed. It’s a game for me every day to try to figure out what we’ll be having for dinner before he texts me from school to ask me, “What’s for dinner, Mom?” And since I’m not above bribing when it comes to inspiring my boys to do things that are good for them, food has been a valuable currency.  

Three summers ago, when we backpacked 160 miles of the Camino de Santiago in northern Spain, Fin hiked particularly enthusiastically no doubt in large part due to the fact that we’d get to eat a delicious meal about halfway through the hike, not to mention there were other stops for soda pops or bread or ice cream along the way.  

On our first European trip in 2016, we went on some challenging epic hikes in Switzerland. The first was particularly grueling because Jerry and I mistook one hike’s elevation gain of 1,200 meters for 1,200 feet. Oops. The boys were demoralized by all the uphill early on. We had ascended 1,200’ in the first two miles, not to mention it was raining. But thankfully, there were little villages and restaurants throughout the hike, and once the eating started, the complaining stopped. By the end of our 24-mile trek, we had enjoyed several Lindt and Milka chocolate bars, fondue, pizza, ice cream, soda pop for the boys, beers for Jerry and I, and other tasty treats.

Fin and I chose a flat rock near the end of Big Sandy Lake for our extended break and picnic. It felt good to take the loads off our back and to get off our feet. We lingered at the lake, and were mostly quiet as we ate a hearty lunch. I reminded Fin that the more we ate and drank, the lighter our loads would get.  

After our picnic, Fin and I had what would be the hardest part of the day’s hike ahead of us. We only had a short distance remaining, but it would be a grunt that included a gain of 600’ under a blazing sun. As we put our packs on and started for the hill, I told him we could stop for a quick rest after every single switchback if that would help, and so we did that and it did help. 

As usual, we were rewarded for our uphill effort. Not only did we have awe-inspiring views of Sundance Pinnacle, Warbonnet and Mitchell Peak in front of us, we had fantastic views of Haystack, Steeple, East Temple and Temple Peaks to the back and east of us. And ahead of us was a field of yellow and purple wildflowers. 

Then suddenly, while we were bent over catching our breath, a large dark shape–a moose–emerged from the woods and lumbered across the trail in front of us and through the flowers. We watched as the majestic, 1,000-pound animal continued down to the outlet of North Lake to get a drink. It was a great sight and it energized us.

It was early afternoon when we reached the area where I planned to set up camp. Unfortunately, it would include one last steep hill to climb. Fin, who still hadn’t complained about the weight of his pack, looked a little demoralized when he saw this final hurdle. It was hot, 90 degrees without a breeze, and did I mention, there were mosquitoes. Plenty of mosquitoes.

I instructed Fin to sit on a rock with Chewy while I went up the hill to see if I could find a good place for camp. After slogging up the hill, I was pleased to find us a great site.  

Relieved that the hike to our destination could now end, I dropped my pack and went down to fetch Fin and Chewy. I offered to take Fin’s pack for this last grunt, and he was so very appreciative. As I was taking his pack from him, it reminded me of the hundreds of times I did this very thing every time I walked to fetch him after school. It was the first thing I always did. I’d take his pack to carry it home for him.

As I remembered this I felt a little choked up and as if I might cry. Right before me was the little version of Fin, with his long reddish hair and happy to see me as I greeted him after school and took his backpack before starting our walk home. And at the same time I was seeing the current tall and handsome “all grown up” version of my Fin.

There were some gray clouds forming and rain seemed imminent, so I suggested we get the tent set up in short order. Drenched with sweat, tired from the hard hike at altitude with a heavy backpack, and annoyed by mosquitos, Fin was quick to help me dig the tent out and get it set up. We had chosen an area in the shade for our temporary home and once we had it set up, I insisted Fin get inside and take a nap. He didn’t object and was asleep almost as soon as I zipped the tent’s door behind him.

As Fin and Chewy napped, I unpacked and organized what would serve as a small kitchen/eating area about 100 yards from the tent. 

I made myself a cup of tea and found a place in the shade to sit. I thought about my Finis and brainstormed words to describe him using the letters of his name. I decide F is for fun/funny. Fin has always loved playing and he’s great at finding ways to have fun. He’s also quite funny and likes making jokes and making others laugh. In fact, in the past he’s mentioned that he might want to be a comedian. I don’t know how serious he is about that, but if nothing else shows the high value Fin places on humor. Whenever I send a text with Fin’s name in it, Siri changes Fin to Fun. I have stopped overriding Siri on this because fun fits when it comes to Fin.

The first I in his name is for Imaginative. Fin has always had a curious mind. I can see his wheels turning when he’s observing something or thinking about a question or a topic we’re discussing at dinner or on a road trip. He has a huge imagination and likes to use it. N is for Negotiator. Fin has been a master negotiator since he was little, and while this can be a disadvantage for his parents, his ability to negotiate will likely serve him in the future. The second I in his name is for Insightful. For as long as Fin has been able to talk, he has been insightful. He’s extremely observant and often shares insights that demonstrate an intuitive understanding about something he sees or learns. And finally, S stands for Sensitive. Fin has always been a sensitive and thoughtful person. He cares deeply about the people in his life and he picks up on the way others are feeling.

A little more than an hour passed and I woke Fin up. Given his mountain climb the next day would require an alpine start, I wanted to ensure he’d be able to sleep once night fell.

I had picked this camp site because from it, we had a view of Mitchell Peak. The itinerary for our mother-son rite of passage adventure included a solo mountain climb of Mitchell Peak for Fin on Day 2. To climb the mountain would mean traveling off-trail and up and over rugged terrain, at altitude, with an elevation gain of about 2,400’. 

When Fin and Chewy emerged from the tent and joined me in our eating area, I pointed out Mitchell Peak, and the route he would take to climb it. I explained that the mountain climb would be hard. I shared that it’s not only a steep endeavor but that with the altitude he would feel out of breath probably from the outset and that it would only get harder the higher up he got. I told Fin to expect it to be difficult and reiterated that regardless of one’s fitness level, climbing a mountain at altitude is hard.

We’d have a 5am wakeup and a 6am departure. I opt for early starts on summit days for safety reasons. In the high country, a clear blue sky can be filled with clouds rather quickly, often developing into a storm in the afternoon. I’ve had to turn myself around, and expeditions I was leading around, just short of reaching the summit after clouds came in quickly. I wanted to set Fin up to have the most time, and the best chance of summiting in case the weather changed.   

Jerry and the boys had surprised Fin with a whittling knife. While I cooked us a dinner of delicious chicken-flavored ramen, Fin whittled as Chewy lounged near his feet.

As Fin was eating, I showed him the book, Wind River Trails, written by Finis Mitchell in 1975. I asked Fin if I could read aloud “A Mountain Man,” a prayer written by Mitchell on the last page in the book, and he said yes. 

He who labors to reach the summit of a mountain seeks solace and tranquility. He is neither greedy nor selfish. He finds time to help others less fortunate than himself. He loves the great outdoors and all forms of life; the trees, the flowers, the grasses of the land and the land itself. He loves the music of cataracts from glacier to sea. He also loves the peace and quiet when life-giving streams linger momentarily in valley or lake along their way. He makes happy tracks in many snows which melt away, leaving no trace of man’s visit to the wilderness. He finds time to do everything needful by never letting time find him doing nothing. He is a man among men. 

He always awakens facing the east from whence the sun gives life to all things. As the day advances, he strives to help others attain greater heights from north to south. When the day is done he faces the west as the setting sun beckons him into peaceful slumber and puts the world to rest. He is thankful the Earth provides his existence and for the privilege of just being here; thankful to be on the summit of a mountain which shall stand forever as a sanctuary to God and man.

For him, may the winds that blow his way be always mild and the rains that fall upon him be warm and gentle. May the path he selects to follow through life be decorated with lilacs so the beauty and fragrance of the land be with him all the days of his life. May God be with him along his way and guide him through the darkest nights. Amen.

Fin said he liked it.

I told him the Mitchell Peak he would be climbing tomorrow was his mountain and that I was proud of him.

After dinner, we played some gin rummy. The score was 2 games to 1, with Fin leading, as we headed to the tent for the night. It was still light out so sleep wouldn’t come easy even though we were dead tired. 

Fin has a great sense of humor and loves all things funny so I offered to play an audiobook by comedian Jim Gaffigan called Food: A Love Story. I figured I might get some points given I had selected a book that combined two of Fin’s passions–humor and food. It didn’t take long and we laughed ourselves to sleep. (Two particularly funny excerpts: “If aliens studied Earth, they would come to the conclusion that the United States is somehow consuming food on behalf of other countries.” and “I don’t know much about grammar, but I think kale salad is what they call a “double negative.”)

The next morning I woke before the alarm. I quietly got myself and Chewy out of the tent and headed for the kitchen area. I had one objective and one objective only: To boil water and get a cup of coffee brewed as soon as possible. Until I was sipping a cup of coffee, nothing else could be accomplished.

I was relieved to see the sky was clear. As an adventurer and adventure guide, there’s nothing I love more than a clear sky. It would be a perfect day for my youngest son to climb a mountain. 

After finishing my coffee, I woke Fin and instructed him to get his hiking boots on and meet me in the kitchen. 

He was still coming out of his slumber and I was deliberately trying not to rush him, but felt the need to revisit the day’s objective. I asked him to look at Mitchell Peak and review the route I was recommending. 

Fin snarfed a toasted cheese bagel and drank a cup of hot apple cider as he looked at the mountain. “It doesn’t look too bad,” he said. I was comforted by his confidence, but as his mother, also worried about all that could go wrong.

Out here in the wilderness, the stakes are high. If something goes wrong, we’re a long way from help. Fin is an experienced hiker, and he knows to be careful, but I worry about him while crossing boulder fields or falling while ascending a steep pitch of granite and hitting his head, getting too close to the edge when on the summit, and on and on and on. I catch myself going down this nervous and anxious rabbit hole and remind myself that I had the same overwhelming worries when Hayden and Wolf each were in this position, preparing to climb Mitchell Peak, and they did fine. And besides, this was my idea. But still…

I know it’s normal for a mother to worry and to want to protect her children. But I also know it’s critical to trust and to let go. With two sons who are ages 21 and 19, I know this firsthand and yet, I still struggle with it. Even with the two oldest sons launched and away at college, it hasn’t become any easier.

Fin is the baby of the family and I still see him as the toddler with long hair who liked to hold my hand and who trusted me to kiss his owies whenever he got them.

After Fin finished his bagel and cider we packed up and started up the trail. Chewy and I would hike with him as far as the end of North Lake, and get him started up the mountain, at which point we’d go in a different direction and meet him at some point during his descent of Mitchell Peak. 

As we started up, the sun was shining its first light on the tops of the granite peaks all around us. My trail name is “Sunrise.” Sunrise is my favorite time of day and I love to be on the trail before the sun comes up. Today we timed it perfectly. The top half of the dramatic Warbonnet Peak was painted with bright sunlight as it was reflected below in the green and glass-like waters of North Lake. 

There were wildflowers everywhere, lit up by the day’s first light, and it was so quiet. All we could hear was our breathing, and the occasional click of my trekking poles. There wasn’t a breeze and we were the only ones on the trail. I was in Heaven, and feeling blessed to be experiencing the spectacularly beautiful morning with my youngest son.

As we started up from North Lake, Chewy was up to his nose in wildflowers as he tried to keep up with Fin. After a little bit of route-finding, I instructed Fin to follow the spring up through the first half of the climb. 

Then I hugged him and told him I loved him and that I was proud of him. I pointed to a point high on a ridge where Chewy and I would be waiting for him to descend the bottom part of the mountain with him.  

As he left, I yelled after him, “You’re the best Fin in the world!” which is something I’ve been telling him since he was little.

As Fin continued up and away from us, he looked back and waved. As I watched him, suddenly it was as if I was watching him through the chain link fence at Baldwin Creek Elementary after walking him to school and he was looking back and waving. After walking Fin to grade school each morning, I was always careful to not walk away until he was done waving. I never wanted to turn my back to him if he was still looking and waving. In his 4th grade year, he suggested near one of our first walks of the school year, “How about I wave three times and then you can go.” The next year, he’d say he’d wave when he reached the monkey bars and then I’d leave. 

I felt tears in my eyes as I watched him wave at me. My little Fin with the long reddish hair was now a tall young man. What a big boy, I thought. 

When Fin was born, we were surprised by his size. He was almost 9 pounds! Like his two brothers, he was delivered by c-section. I gained more weight when pregnant with Fin than when pregnant with Wolf and Hayden, so I figured he’d be a bigger baby than his brothers were. But still, we were surprised to have such a large bundle, and his long unruly red hair and bright blue eyes made him such an adorable baby. Meeting him for the first time was one of the greatest days of my life and I’ll never forget looking into my Finis’ eyes for the first time.

Because I had delivered via c-section, it took a little longer before I could hold Fin a second time, but when I did, it was magical. He lay on my chest, nursing for the first time, and I was in Heaven. 

Later that night in the hospital, I could hear Fin coughing. Throughout the night, I could hear his little cough. I worried because it seemed like he was struggling more than necessary to breathe. I couldn’t sleep because I was filled with worry. It wasn’t long and we were informed the doctor thought we should get Fin to Denver to the Children’s Hospital to examine his lungs more closely. They assured us that everything was probably fine, but the hospital in Denver would be better able to assess and treat any possible conditions that were causing Fin’s coughing and the resulting difficulty he had with breathing. Fortunately, I was able to fly on the plane with him. After five days of monitoring and tests, Fin’s breathing issues were resolved and we were sent home.

I think of Fin’s little baby cough now and how labored his breathing was in those first days of his life, and I wonder–and worry–if he’s feeling a similar struggle now, what with the increasing altitude he was experiencing while climbing Mitchell Peak.

Chewy and I headed up in a different direction. I planned to find a boulder somewhere beneath what’s called the Dog Tooth, on which to sit and reflect. I had equipped Fin with a walkie talkie in case of emergency. A while later, after Chewy and I got situated on a boulder, Fin’s voice came over the radio telling me about a cool spider that was suspended on an elaborate web between two boulders he was climbing.  

Fin has always been a keen observer of the natural world, and has a special place in his heart for all critters. 

When he was 8, he had a pet boxelder bug he named Reddy. One afternoon, after returning home from school, Fin realized his boxelder bug had died. He was heartbroken. He sobbed for almost two hours. We had a little service and burial for Reddy in our backyard to commemorate the bug’s life.

One Christmas, Fin wrote Santa a letter requesting a “very red fish.” Fortunately, Santa delivered on his wish, but a couple of months later, while Fin was at school and I was fetching dirty clothes from his room, I noticed the fish was dead. Living in a small town, there was only one place to find a replacement, Ace Hardware. Unfortunately Ace didn’t have any “very red fish.”  So, unable to pull off a switch, I had to break the sad news to Fin. That was another time of heartbreak and grieving that took some time for Fin to process.

Fin especially loves dogs. Not only our dogs, Buddy and Chewy, but all dogs. When our family backpacked the Camino de Santiago, every day Fin would encounter and cuddle dogs along the way. Throughout our daily treks and along the stops in small villages and towns, there were dogs, and we always made sure to stop and allow for Fin to pet and spend time with them.  

I interrupt my memory mining to look through my binoculars in hopes of spotting Fin. I get lucky and find him. I see that he’s taking a break, sitting on a Volkswagen-sized boulder.  

Chewy sat curled at my feet, lounging in the alpine tundra, preoccupied with the occasional fly or mosquito. I had to put him on a leash so he wouldn’t follow Fin. We always call Fin “Chewy’s boy,” since they connected so immediately upon their first meeting. I wanted for Chewy to go with Fin to the top of the mountain but Fin and I agreed it would be an easier climb without having to tend to Chewy and carry him over various boulder fields. But as Chewy and I sat there, Chewy’s concern for Fin and his whereabouts was palpable. 

Some more time passes and I have some tears. I cry easily when reflecting on Fin’s childhood. After we had Wolf, and then two years later, Hayden, we took a pause. We knew we wanted to try for one more but due to all that was going on in our life at the time, we chose to wait a bit. That’s why there are 7 years and 5 years between Fin and his older brothers. I am thinking of how blessed we’ve been by our Finis, and so grateful that we chose to have a third. Fin has brought so much joy to our family and our life!

I check in with Fin on the radio to make sure all is going okay. “It’s going good, just taking lots of little breaks,” he reports, adding, “there are so many spiders on webs between the boulders. They’re cool.” I remind him to take his time, be careful and to enjoy the experience.

About 90 minutes pass and I hear, “I made it to the top, mom.” A few more tears for me, but I gather myself and exclaim, “Great work, Fin!” I’m so proud. 

Most of my tears as a mother have been tears of gratitude. But of course I’ve also cried when experiencing sadness or worry or frustration related to being a mother. Add to that I have so much self doubt about my abilities as a mother, and I can be particularly hard on myself.  

For the last 11 years, I’ve worked with and coached many women, and this self doubt and self criticism mothers experience comes up frequently. One time I was coaching a woman who was particularly hard on herself when it came to her role as a mother, and I asked her, “What has to happen for you to believe you’re a good mother?” I ponder this question as I sit on my rock with Chewy, waiting for Fin to descend his mountain. I don’t know the answer.

But I do know that I am proud to have had this idea of a mother-son rite of passage adventure with my sons, and to have kept up the tradition for all three of them. 

In fact, this is as much a rite of passage for me, as it is for Fin, and as much as it was for Wolf and Hayden during theirs. This adventure was intended to provide a meaningful time with Fin and to enrich our connection while also acknowledging his growing up and the need for me to let go. I need to allow Fin the freedom that is necessary for him to become independent. That will enable him to find his own way. 

Some more time passes and I see that Fin is on his way down, navigating through the steep landscape that is littered with large chunks of granite. He’s descending quickly.

In recent years, during our family hikes, the boys have left Jerry and I in the dust, particularly when on the way back to the trailhead and to our vehicle. I think it’s probably because the hike is mostly behind them and they are excited about that. The boys are great sports to go on our family hikes and they’re great trail company. As a mother, there’s nothing I love more than watching my three sons connect and do what they do when they’re together outdoors, and I will be forever grateful for their generous and adventurous spirits. For their “compliance.”

I see Fin has spotted us and is fast approaching. Chewy’s excited and I let him off the leash so he can run and meet up with “his boy.” I watch as Chewy jumps up on Fin and they enjoy a loving and gregarious exchange.

I greet Fin with a big hug and hold the embrace a little longer than normal. I’m so proud of my Fin. My Finis. We descend toward camp, stopping a few times to eat Red Vines and Munchies before getting back to camp at around 2:30pm. 

Once at camp, I feel elated and relieved. We lounge and Fin takes a short nap. When he awakes we listen to some more Jim Gaffigan and share laughs while playing more games of gin rummy. He leads six games to five.

For dinner, I make my famous “epic buttery, fried cheesy quesadillas.” Fin eats three of them. After our trek to wash the dishes and restock our water bottles, we return to camp. 

I ask Fin if he’ll read out loud the poem he chose for this adventure and if I can capture it on video. He is kind and says yes, despite feeling a little awkward about it. He reads Invictus, by William Ernest Henley.

Out of the night that covers me,

      Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

      I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

      Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

      How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

      I am the captain of my soul.

I listen and watch as he reads, with Mitchell Peak in the background, from a folded printout. I thanked Fin and asked him what he liked about the poem and why he picked it. “Because it’s about bravery,” he said, adding “and because it’s short,” which causes us both to chuckle. I also wonder if he likes it because it’s about sticking to one’s own dignity. After all, Fin is his own person and doesn’t easily conform.

Tired from our early start and the day’s efforts, we went to the tent early. With Chewy curled up and nestled next to his head, Fin finds sleep quickly. I’m also tired. Exhausted actually. But I take a few minutes to linger, and to watch my youngest son as he sleeps and breathes easily. I want so much to move closer to Fin and to hold him in my arms, like I did when he was younger, but I resist and let him sleep. 

I still want cuddles like the ones we used to share when he was little. I remember one day after Jerry and the older boys were already out the door to school and Fin and I had a little more time before we needed to start our walk to preschool. Fin climbed on top of me and asked if we could cuddle for “7 more minutes.” Moments like that were heavenly for me, and I miss them dearly while at the same time knowing we aren’t mothers to raise babies. Our kids are meant to grow up.  

The next day there’s no wakeup call. I’ve designed this day to be one of leisure. Fin emerges from the tent at around 8am and I make him his usual adventure breakfast of choice–a cheesy bagel and apple cider. We load our packs with a rain jacket and a lunch, his journal and the deck of cards. I tell Fin that today’s plan is to hike 3 miles to Deep Lake where we’ll have a “deep talk.” I can tell he’s curious and maybe even a little nervous about whatever the deep talk will be about, but I assure him we’ll go easy on the hike and that today is meant to be “chill.”

We had a great hike and talked about a variety of things, including his job. At the start of the summer, Fin began working his first official job, an internship at our local bike and ski shop. He was loving it so far and he said it was cool to learn how to tune up bikes and to meet cyclists who were biking across the U.S. 

We stopped at Clear Lake for a snack and a drink, and recalled memories of the last time our family was here. We spent Labor Day in 2014 camped here and the night was filled with booming thunder, torrential rain, and lightning that lit up our tent. We woke the next morning, on Aug. 31, to a blizzard and our family collectively voted to cut our adventure short.

Next, Fin and I hiked about a mile up a huge granite slab to Deep Lake. (This area of the Wind Rivers is one of my favorites and I’ve spent many nights camped in this area while leading Epic Women expeditions.) Once at Deep Lake, Fin and I had a picnic lunch before I facilitated what has become known by now after doing two of these mother-son rites of passage adventures, as our “deep talk.” 

I shared the fact he was conceived in the wilderness, which made him blush, of course, just as it had his brothers, who were also conceived in the wilderness. And I shared with Fin how much I love him and what an honor it is to be his mother. 

I told him that the purpose of the “deep talk” was for us to make a promise to one another. I explained that, as his mother, I will always want to protect him, but that I knew that wasn’t possible, and that for him to grow up and become his own person I would need to do some trusting, some letting go.  

I offered to go first. I promised to try to trust him more, and to let go of what likely feels like a tight grasp if he would make a promise to me that would offer some reassurance. For his part, Fin promised he would stick to his values, which he said included “family, friendship, honesty, good judgment, service, compassion, humor, and integrity.”

We agreed to do our best to keep our promises to one another. I told him that I didn’t expect him to be perfect, and that I would almost certainly screw up on my end of the bargain. I explained how hard it is for me to not try to keep him safe, but that I knew I needed to allow him to grow more independent. It was a meaningful conversation and we “signed” it with a hug. 

We sat in silence for a few minutes while Chewy dipped his paws in the lake and we watched him try to catch flies. We ate some lunch, and then played a few games of gin rummy. We had agreed at the start of our adventure that we’d play gin rummy and whoever got to 10 wins would be the winner. At this point during our adventure, Fin was leading our rummy series, 8 games to 7. I’m pretty sure I won’t forget our gin rummy games at Deep Lake, because at some point while playing cards there, Fin told me he craved a cucumber. This from our child who doesn’t eat green vegetables!

The hike back to camp was mostly downhill and we covered the distance quickly. It was hot and Fin and I were both eager to get back to camp and collapse in the shade for a nap. Per Fin’s request, I cooked hot dogs for dinner, complete with Cheetos and nacho cheese on top. After washing the dishes, we played three more games of gin rummy to get to Fin’s 10 and my 8. Fin was the winner.

As we continued lounging, I inserted one more conversation. I shared with Fin that one of the things I do when I coach leaders is I ask them to reflect on the 5 ways they want to be in the world. Fin thought about this for while before coming up with Helpful, Funny, Compassionate, Inspiring, and Brave. I thanked him for playing along and told him I loved the words he came up with. 

We had a beautiful sunset, which I took in with much gratitude as Fin wrestled around with Chewy. Before the sun was down, we agreed to head to the tent and listen to some more Jim Gaffigan while going to sleep. 

When we unzipped the door to the tent, we both were about knocked out by the stink and stench coming from our tent and the piles of dirty and expired socks and clothes inside. 

This reminded me of a spring break camping trip we had taken through southern Utah 8 years earlier. After 6 days and nights of epic hikes and other outdoor adventures, and tent camping in national parks, Jerry and I promised to treat the boys to a night in a fancy hotel. Specifically, we had promised them a night in a luxury resort at the end of the week, complete with robes and slippers all around.

We stayed at the Trump Tower in Las Vegas and indeed, robes and slippers were provided. We lived, and were treated like royalty for the rest of the afternoon and evening. It was an amazing ending to an epic family spring break adventure.

The next morning, as we got into the car following our pampered stay, Fin remarked “I love the smell of hotel air.” We all laughed and agreed. 

I reminded Fin of this memory and we both agreed that some “hotel air” would hit the spot about now.

The next day we were both eager to get on the trail and back to civilization so we woke early and broke camp in record time. 

We had a great hike out and shared more great conversation, mostly about Fin’s favorite movies, actors and musicians. During one final snack break, with about three miles left, I asked him to use the letters of E.P.I.C. to come up with 4 things he’d like to have in his life to make it epic. He took just a few minutes and responded with, Eating, Playing, Inspiration, and Courage.

I told Fin again how much this time with him in the wilderness meant to me, and how much it would always mean to me. I told him how much I loved him, and to always feel my love and support. I told him I was proud of him and the man he’s becoming, and I wondered if he would mind if I called him Finis occasionally. He said that would be fine, which made me think of what my dad likes to call Fin, which is “Mighty Fine.”

As we continued down the trail, I watched him as he walked in front of me. Such a big boy. My Finis. 

I recalled the last words from Finis Mitchell’s “A Mountain Man” prayer: May the winds that blow his way be always mild and the rains that fall upon him be warm and gentle. May the path he selects to follow through life be decorated with lilacs so the beauty and fragrance of the land be with him all the days of his life. May God be with him along his way and guide him through the darkest nights. 

I prayed these words for my Finis.

Soon after, I noticed a golden retriever up ahead, which made me miss our Buddy. Then, I realized it was our Buddy! Jerry, Hayden, Wolf and Buddy had hiked in to meet us for the end of our adventure. We were thrilled to see them! Wolf and Hayden took the loads off our backs. They gave Fin an ice cold Dr. Pepper and there was an iced coffee for me. Buddy tackled Fin and I, and Chewy tackled Jerry, Wolf and Hayden. 

It was the perfect end to a perfect adventure.

• Categories: Adventure, Family, Fitness, Life and Leadership, life coaching, Travel
• Tags: children, epic adventure, finis, finis mitchell, mother son, motherhood, parenthood, parenting, rite of passage, shelli johnson, son, tradition, wind river range, wind rivers, wyoming
• Comments: 7 Comments

Why I Wake Early…

July 8th, 2018

I recently turned 50 years old. To celebrate the milestone, and the last day of being 49 years old, I went on a 25-mile epic hike with my husband. We started under a full moon, and then a couple of miles into the hike, we stopped at one of our favorite points to watch the sun rise. It was glorious. (Sunrise is my favorite time of day. One of my trail names is “Sunrise.”)

Since the start of 2018, I have been on a quest to memorize my favorite poems. The sunrise near the start of my birthday hike seemed liked the perfect opportunity to recite Why I Wake Early, by Mary Oliver.

(This is my 10th poem to memorize this year. If you’re interested, you can see the others by clicking here.)

• Categories: Adventure, Family, Fitness, Life and Leadership
• Tags: epic hike, mary oliver, memorizing poems, poems, poetry, shelli johnson, why i wake early, wind river country, wind river range, yourepiclife.com
• Comments: 3 Comments

Reflections: My Mother-Son Rite of Passage Expedition with Son Hayden

August 7th, 2016

(Note: My son, Hayden, read this and approved of my sharing)

Hayden, 14, is our second of three sons. He gets his name from Ferdinand Hayden, the geologist that led the Hayden Geological Survey of 1871, which explored and documented features in the region that would one year later become Yellowstone National Park, the world’s first national park. Since he was old enough to walk, Hayden has been drawn to rocks, and has always loved climbing and scrambling over rocks so perhaps it’s no wonder he gets his name from a geologist.

It was last year that I had this idea of leading my sons on a mother-son rite of passage expedition the summer before they start high school. A mother of three sons, I will get to have this meaningful experience three times. Last year, I took our first son, Wolf, on the adventure, and still consider the mother-son rite of passage idea one of my best ideas ever. (Our youngest son, Fin, is 9, so it will be 5 years before we get to do his.)

It was Hayden’s turn for the adventure this year, and after a lot of anticipation, we were excited to get the party started. First thing’s first, so we stopped at Lander Bake Shop at 6:30am and I bought Hayden a giant brownie plus a mocha, and we started our 2-hour drive to the trailhead.

On our way out of town, I played a Hidden Brain podcast called “Silver and Gold.” Hayden is super athletic and loves sports, so I figured this would be a good pick. I should mention that my son Hayden is funny, and really smart. He is way more intelligent than me, and in fact, one of the things we love about Hayden is the random bits of trivia he shares with us that are always fascinating tidbits that teach us things we did not previously know. The podcast started out with Shankar Vedantam explaining that David Matsumoto, a professor of psychology at San Francisco State University, and a former Olympic Judo coach, has analyzed the behavior of Olympic medal winners. Among other things, Matsumoto found that people who won bronze medals appeared happier than people who won silver medals. Before he could explain, Hayden quipped, “Duh. The bronze winner is just happy he made the podium. The silver medalist is not happy because he could have gotten a gold, but he did not, and that silver just drives that point home.”

LOL. I couldn’t argue with him, and in fact agreed, so we turned off the podcast, and instead agreed to listen to the start of an audiobook, Jim Gaffigan’s Dad is Fat. As a family we all laughed out loud while watching Gaffigan’s stand-up show, Beyond The Pale, on Netflix, and so we had a feeling this book would be good for some laughs on this day’s early start. And boy were we right. It wasn’t long, and Hayden and I were both laughing out loud. We especially enjoyed the first chapter. We loved it so much that I predicted “Dinga Dinga Dong…” might become a useful tagline, at times, during our adventure.

Once we turned off the highway and onto the long dirt road, we switched to music. We listened to Jet Fly, Ride, Boulevard of Broken Dreams, Bonfire Heart, Lose Yourself, Lost!, Let the Rhythm Just, Born in the U.S.A., I Took A Pill In Ibiza, All At Once, 7 Years, Called Out In The Dark, and many other songs, before arriving at the trailhead.

As per usual, ours would not be a lightweight adventure. As we parked at the trailhead and reached for our backpacks, we had to be intentional so as not to get injured. Good thing Hayden grew 5 inches in the last 12 months, I thought to myself. His pack was more than half his height! (By the way, I’m not necessarily proud to admit this, but these growing boys of ours are young and fit and strong, so they can carry more weight than they used to carry. Read: More weight than their mom carries. I train to be strong and fit and capable, but still, my 48-year-old joints are not of the same quality as those of my 14-year-old son. Even so, both of our backpacks were tall and unseemly – and seam-popping.

Did I mention Hayden is an Eater? Yes, the capital E is intentional. We packed an abundance of delicious foods – and also a football and a packraft and a kite. These things take up space. (This sort of reminds me of a time when Wolf was one-and-a-half years old and I was six months pregnant with Hayden. We rented llamas and camped at Stough Creek Basin. Because llamas carried our loads, we packed in an exersaucer, swing, and a huge condominium of a tent. Hayden’s and my backpacking adventure was sorta similar to this except for there were no llamas.)

We started hiking down the trail, and I instructed him to take small steps rather than large, bounding, lunging steps. I told him it would be better for us to try and stay under these monster packs rather than be stretched out from under them.

At first we didn’t say much. I listened as our trekking poles clicked on the rocky trail and I watched and followed in Hayden’s steps. This is common in all of the trips I lead and take. The first bit is all about getting into a groove and developing a sense of how it’s going to feel to move and travel in this way, loaded down with everything that will sustain us for 4 days. It’s also a time for re-orienting to a new – and wild – place.

“Only that day dawns to which we are awake.” These are the words of Henry David Thoreau, found near the end of his wonderful book, Walden. I reminded myself of this quote as Hayden and I started up the trail in the silence, and in our own thoughts. I had been on this very trail just days before leading my Epic Women expedition. I was home just long enough to get cleaned up, unpacked, and repacked, and my mind had been a little scattered in preparation for this adventure. I really wanted to be here with Hayden, 100%, and to savor our time together, and to not be too tired, or distracted by my unfinished, growing pile of work that was on my desk at home.

One of the reasons I love spending so much time in the wilderness is it’s the easiest place for me to be present, and to be in the moment. Otherwise, in all other places, I tend to be future-oriented, always preoccupied with future and upcoming events, and new ideas and possibilities. As we walked our first mile, I felt that familiar sense of belonging and presence – and a relief came over me that I would indeed have no problem being here with Hayden, and only here.

I love hiking with my sons. At least in my experience, if we’re wandering down some trail, I don’t have to work to prompt the boys into conversation. Walking somehow inspires them to talk, and to share openly about what’s on their mind.

Hayden started talking to me about basketball, and citing statistics about Michael Jordan. A few months back I had bought him Michael Jordan: The Life, by Roland Lazenby, and he recently finished reading it. He commented that the book is fantastic, and that he especially loved what was said on the book’s final page.

I listened as he talked excitedly about some of Jordan’s statistics, and several other NBA players. While I don’t want to compare, I must stay Hayden is very much like I was when I was his age. Basketball was my passion. I spent all of my free time developing my three point shot and other skills at elementary school playgrounds in the summer. I even received a Division I basketball scholarship to the University of Montana in 1986. And even though it didn’t work out as planned, and ended up being what I call one of my most spectacular failures, hearing Hayden talk about basketball, and watching him invest so much time shooting and doing drills at local playgrounds this summer is a little like flashing back to my own 14-year-old self.

After a while it started sprinkling so we took out our rain jackets and had a quick snack and some water. When we started hiking again, I asked him if he had any goals for our adventure. “I want to have fun with you and to do awesome.” I told him I had the same goals.

 

It wasn’t long, and we reached Big Sandy Lake, where we removed our packs and ate some lunch. I pointed out all of the mountains around us: Schiestler Peak, Temple Peak, East Temple and Steeple peaks, Haystack, and Big Sandy. Mitchell Peak, the mountain Hayden would climb on his own the next day, was just out of sight. As we ate our lunch, we listened as a marmot whistled/chirped from the pile of granite boulders above the lake. Hayden used to do a fantastic marmot call, and I tried to get him to do it now, but he refused. When did he grow up? I thought to myself. It seems like it was just yesterday that we were bribing the boys up the trail by planting “trail fairy” snacks for them. Now, we can hardly keep up with them. Hayden was loaded down, with a much-heavier pack than I, and still, it took effort to stay on his heels. I have created a monster, I thought to myself, as I tried to catch up with him after putting our packs back on.

Soon we started up the “grunt” part of the day – the beginning of Jackass Pass, so named because not even a mule (ie. jackass) can hike up it. As we moved slowly up the switchbacks, I remarked that we were moving like ants carrying great loads. “Actually, if we were ants, our loads would be much heavier because ants can carry 10 times their bodyweight on their backs.” We then discussed how grateful we were that our loads were not 1,150 pounds and 1,350 pounds respectively, and talking about this (almost) made our loads feel not as heavy. Hayden suggested how cool it would be if we had some ants around to carry our loads. We figured if we wanted a 70-pound load carried in for each of us, all it would require would be two 7-pound ants. We spent a couple of switchbacks distracting ourselves from exertion by imagining these giant ants, and what it would be like to hire ants to carry in our loads.

Soon, we arrived at what I consider to be a magical, best kept secret site for a camp.

We set up the tent and unloaded the foods and other kitchen stuff and moved them to the scenic kitchen area, where we were blessed by epic views. Across from us was Mitchell Peak, and in the distance was Haystack, Steeple, East Temple and Temple peaks. Hayden would climb Mitchell Peak early the next morning, and we’d day hike over to the Deep Lake area on Day 3. I love this camp because from it, you can see all of the country we’d be exploring.

Hayden then sprawled out on a granite slab and took a nap. While he was napping, I remembered him as an almost 2-year-old. One time we were camping in our camper at Flaming Gorge, and Hayden, then about 18 months old, was up all night screaming in pain from an ear infection. “Sing Amazing Grace!” he yelled at me as I tried to console him on my chest. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was so cute how demanding and specific his request was. As he lay there napping, I brainstormed words to describe my Hayden with using the letters of his name. H is for honorable (Hayden has always been principled, and inspired by men and women of honor), Amazing (he probably prefers the word awesome, but given the song, Amazing Grace, has such a place in his early life and our relationship, I am going with Amazing), Y for youthful (he’s great at getting down and playing with younger kids, including his 9-year-old brother, Fin, and Whacky Fish Campers last summer), D is for Determined (once Hayden sets his mind to something, he pursues it with a dogged determination), Eater (no explanation, but suffice it to say that he’s hungry pretty much ALL of the time), and finally, N is for Night owl (poor Hayden, he’s the only night owl in our family of early risers.)

 

After writing all of this down in my journal, I opened my copy of Kahlil Gibran’s prophet, and read my favorite essay in the entire book, “On Children.” 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… I tell myself that I must remember all this, especially the last part.

One of the thing that inspires me about Hayden is how he marches to the beat of his own drum. Even at his relatively young age, he’s his own man. He may seek advice, and be inspired and influenced, but ultimately, he chooses what to believe, and how to be. I know it’s early on, he’s only 14, but it is something I’ve noticed about Hayden for some time now. I was probably 40 years old before I felt like I marched to the beat of my own drum.

This rite of passage trip is as much a rite of passage for mom as it is for son. I have a very clear idea about the kind of mother I want to be. Still, being that person is difficult. I struggle constantly with it. As my Hayden grows into a man, I want to do my best to be the mother I want to be. That mother is not a hovering mother, but rather a supportive mother who guides and loves and cares for her son, but also stays out of his way so that he can blossom and emerge and soar. By the time this expedition ends, my hope is that we make simple promises to one another that will help facilitate my being the way I want to be in order for him to be his best, and that we may love each other even more as a result.

Hayden wakes up as I make a bunch of racket getting pans, food and the stove out. I mention that nap will do him good since his mountain climb will come early tomorrow. We plan to wake at 4am, and for him to start up at around 5am. I show him Mitchell Peak, and most of what his route will be. I ask him if he’s nervous. “Not really,” he says. “I’m excited, though.” This is pure Hayden. If he gets nervous, he doesn’t show it. I, on the other hand, am feeling nervous. This is my idea – for him to climb Mitchell Peak by himself – and yet, as his mother, I wonder if I’m being reckless, and if he’ll get his leg pinned between two boulders tomorrow, or get too close to the edge when standing on the summit. I chase these thoughts away with conversation about food. Hayden decides we should save the most epic meal – cheesy quesadillas – for after the mountain climb, and so we settle on cheesy, buttery noodles for tonight. He eats almost three bowls.

Next, we play catch with the football he packed in. I used to beg him to throw the ball 50 times with me. Now, he begs me. I’m not a hard sell. I love playing catch (fetch) with Hayden. We both try to catch the football with just one hand. He’s better than me at it. Of course. But for a minute, I feel young, like a 14-year-old girl, and I’m having a lot of fun.

Then, we play some gin rummy with cards we bought in Switzerland. We wonder aloud, and laugh, at why we would have purchased the German version. Each card has a unique illustration and paragraph of information that we imagine is pretty interesting if only one of us knew German. We play three games; he wins two, and I win one. We’ll keep track and continue the contest over the next few days.

We decide to go to bed early since the alarm will sound in a matter of hours. We get into my 2-person tent, and he remarks, “this is very cocoon-like.” We say good night, but I can tell he’s not sleeping. He’s tossing and turning and his breathing isn’t restful. I ask him if he’s okay and he says he feels claustrophobic. I suggest we sleep outside under the stars so he doesn’t feel so closed in. He says he’ll be okay, and after a while more of tossing and turning, I can sense he’s fast asleep. For my part, I didn’t sleep. This isn’t unusual – I’m not a great wilderness sleeper. Mostly, I didn’t sleep due to nerves regarding Hayden’s mountain climb. I remind myself that last year I was the same way, and Wolf did just fine. This helps me a little.

The alarm goes off, and we’re up. I make coffee for me and hot chocolate for him. We have some chunky peanut butter and honey bagels, and we’re off with headlamps. We stop at the outlet of North Lake to refill our water bottles and treat the water. I lead him along the trail, and over the boulders along North Lake’s north shore before arriving to the start of the Mitchell Peak ascent. I start up with him for a bit to make sure he’s on the right course, and then agree where we’ll meet up to descend part of the mountain together, and we part ways. There is alpenglow on Warbonnet and I snap a photo of him with it in the background before hugging him and wishing him a great climb.

I climb in a different direction toward Dog Tooth, and find a rock on which to sit. And wait. And worry. While sitting here, butterflies were everywhere. This reminded me of when Hayden was a toddler and I’d carry him in a backpack. I loved those times. I have such fond memories. He’d be mostly in my right ear, over my right shoulder and he’d exclaim, “Buttflies! Buttflies!” whenever he spied a butterfly, which was often. I don’t remember Wolf or Fin ever getting excited over butterflies. Now, I see butterflies everywhere, especially on the yellow flowers that nature arranges like bouquets up high in this alpine tundra. It’s hard to not feel God’s presence and my blessings, as I recall Hayden’s love of butterflies and now see them all around me. I get a little teared up and emotional. I wait and every now and again, spy through my binoculars. Hayden is wearing a red shirt, which is helpful. I spot him making his way toward the peak. I figure it will be another one-and-a-half or two hours so before he sits on the summit. One-and-a-half or two hours of me worrying, and feeling what I can only describe as “tender.”

I pull out my journal and look for the wise words of Seneca that I printed out before leaving: It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a lot of it. Life is long enough, and a sufficiently generous amount has been given to us for the highest achievements if it were all well invested. But when it is wasted in heedless luxury and spent on no good activity, we are forced at last by death’s final constraint to realize that it has passed away before we knew it was passing. So it is: we are not given a short life but we make it short, and we are not ill-supplied but wasteful of it… Life is long if you know how to use it.

As a person, I can be very hard on myself. As a mother, I’m even harder on myself. It’s the most important responsibility I have, and I constantly doubt my abilities. I read Seneca’s words three times, as if to rehearse their truth. This right here, being with my Hayden – just he and I for 4 days – is using my time. For a minute, I allow myself to be proud of myself. I would not want to be anywhere with anyone else right now. I snap some photos of the butterfly that is on the yellow flower in front of me.

Last year for about three months, Hayden, a straight A student, went through a period where he was not turning in assignments. He was doing the work but forgetting to turn it in. It was challenging, and I was freaking out about it. It was so out of character and I didn’t handle it well. I was not the mother I want to be. The principles I was arguing for wasn’t a problem, rather the way I was doing it. I remember being at wit’s end and yelling at Hayden at the top of my lungs before storming upstairs to sink and cry. After a while I came down, with puffy eyes, and sat down with Jerry and the boys for dinner. I looked at Hayden, in front of Jerry and Wolf and Fin, and I said, “I’m sorry. I do not want to be this way with you. While you have to turn things around and start turning your work in, this isn’t how I want to be. I’m sorry. And I hope you can forgive me.” Surprised to see his strong mother so broken down, he thanked me. I am so fallible…

I remember that Hayden’s climbing a mountain, and get my binoculars out. It’s not long and I spy him gaining the ridge to the summit. I have climbed Mitchell Peak 10 times, and every time I gain the ridge, I’m blown away by what I see. It’s as if seeing it for the first time – the Cirque of the Towers, and many granite peaks along the Continental Divide for as far as eye can see – take your breath away. I wonder if Hayden is having this same experience… I hear him on the Talkabout: “I’m over the ridge. It’s awesome,” he says. I tell him great job, and congratulate him. “That means a lot, Mom,” he says. This chokes me up, and I’m sorta a blubbering mess right now. Hayden isn’t very emotional, so this, to use the words of Hayden, “hits me where I live.”

I’m relieved that he’s almost to the top, where he’ll likely sit and enjoy the view and solitary experience for a while, which means I feel like I have at least a little time to relax and stop worrying.

I think of Hayden some more. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love ice cream. It’s right up there with bacon. For years, we’ve had a tradition of eating ice cream after school on Fridays. Since the two older boys are now much busier with sports, etc. after school, we still eat ice cream together at least once a week, just not at the same scheduled time and place. I think of this now because it was during my pregnancy with Hayden that I fell in love with ice cream. I craved it all of the time.

As I’m making this realization, I remember the time I just had to have some ice cream, and so I put Wolf in the carseat, and loaded my pregnant-with-Hayden self into my Subaru Outback and headed to Dairyland to get a large hot fudge and banana malt. During the 10 minutes I was out satisfying this ice cream craving, we had a hail storm. $3,000 worth of damage to my car because I had to have ice cream. Oops! I am laughing out loud right now as I realize all of this, and that my love of ice cream can be blamed on Hayden.

I think now of Hayden’s birth. Wolf was an early, emergency C-section. I wanted to try for a VBAC with Hayden, if I could. I was in labor, feeling the intense pains of labor, when all of a sudden, Hayden’s heart rate was erratic and in distress. The doctor announced we needed to have an emergency C-section. The nurse, Karen – who I will never forget – pushed me as Jerry held my hand and ran alongside me down the hallways of the hospital to get to the surgical unit. Karen asked if we could pray together. We all prayed, and tried not to imagine the worst… it was too unbearable to do so. We got into the surgical room and there was panic in the air. Nurses and the doctor rushed around. Jerry and I cried, and prayed, in desperation. Suddenly, Hayden’s heart rate returned to normal. He was my only baby that was of average size, and didn’t require extended hospitalization or care. He was beautiful, what with his bright blue eyes and his head of thick, white hair. I will never forget meeting him for the first time.

I’m crying again when I hear his voice on the radio. “I’m at the top,” he announces. He says it’s awesome and that he’ll enjoy the view and eat something and drink some water. He says it’s not windy there, and he’s doing great.

I hear a hummingbird zoom by me. This the second I’ve noticed this morning. I think of my mom. My wonderful mom. She LOVES hummingbirds so I always think of her when I hear or see one. This one lingers a little for me, just long enough for it to feel like a specific gift sent to me.

I remember I have a Snickers bar. I packed one for Hayden for his summiting, and one for me. Sometime I’ll try just eating a Snickers but today isn’t that day, so I snarf it, and it hits the spot.

I think because Hayden’s a second child, and I’m a second child, I relate to him in a special way. I worry that because he’s second in the order, that he might not get as much attention as the first or the last of our sons. I remember when I was a young girl and sitting on the sidewalk step with my Dad watching as my older sister, and all of her friends, raced bikes up and down the street. I asked my Dad if I could get a bike, and he said something to the effect of, when you’re your sister’s age. Nothing against my Dad — he has turned out to be one of my biggest champions! – but I remember thinking how much sense that response did not make. I think Hayden is similar in that he doesn’t have a lot of tolerance for arbitrary things.

Some more time passes, and I’m enjoying myself, and the view, and the warmth of the sun that is now over the mountain on my face. I think I’m going to be okay, I say to myself. Hayden’s voice comes on the radio announcing he’s going to start down. I tell him to be careful and remind him to look around and get everything he had with him up there. “And remember, the summit’s only the halfway point,” I say. “Yeah, I know, Mom,” he says. I love it when he says this. It’s reassuring, and I just like the way it sounds when he says it, and I make a mental note that I will tell him as much later.

I head toward a spot high on the mountain that connects Big Sandy Mountain with Mitchell, where we agreed to meet so we could descend together. I zoom my camera all the way in and snap a photo of Hayden, in his red shirt, descending Mitchell, with the Cirque of the Towers’ massive mountains looming behind him. He arrives, and we embrace. He tells me how awesome it was up there, and then we start down. I tell him about the butterflies I saw, and of my memories of him in a backpack and exclaiming over my shoulder and into my ear every time he’d see a butterfly (buttfly!)

I tell him that I saw some hummingbirds while he was on the mountain top. “Did you know that an NBA point guard, when dribbling the ball with both hands as low to the ground as possible, can dribble faster than the wingbeat of a hummingbird?” I tell him, no, I did not know that. This is Hayden. He’s always pulling out random bits of interesting information for us. I love it about him, and I tell him I hope he never quits doing that, and I encourage him to keep reading and being interested in a variety of things. I tell him they are great conversation pieces, and that they are wonderful contributions to the people he shares them with.

We find a huge, flat slab of granite and decide to chill out and “sun like marmots on the rock” for a while. It is nothing short of blissful. I love hanging out with Hayden. He’s fun, and he’s funny.

We return to camp and decide that a very early dinner of Epic quesadillas is in order. (But for accuracy’s sake, insert “Dang Quesadillas!” in the voice of Napoleon Dynamite’s Grandma in the movie, Napoleon Dynamite) While I make dinner, I tell him again how proud I am of his climbing Mitchell Peak today. I share this René Daumal quote with him: “You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know.” He likes it.

Then, I ask if he remembered to choose a poem that resonates with him to bring on the adventure. He did. It’s called The Great Competitor, by Grantland Rice, and he read it to me, captured in the video clip below, with Mitchell Peak in the background. He said he likes it because it’s about how you play the game – “a ballgame, and also how you live your life.”

Hayden eats three Epic quesadillas before acknowledging there is no more available space for food in his tummy. He heads to the tent and takes a two hour nap. For a bit, I read Meditations, by Marcus Aurelius, a favorite of mine that I’m reading for the third time. I underline the following text: The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts. Then I fetch and treat some water, make some strong coffee, and journal a bit. Life is good. So good.

Hayden wakes up (finally), and we make epic s’mores. We’re lazy and concerned about fire danger so we cheat by using the camp stove. We eat s’mores, listen to some music and play some gin rummy. The score is now 8 games to 3, Hayden in favor. I ask Hayden, “What are five ways you want to be if you’re going to be your best self?”

He says he’ll think about it, and for a while he does. He offers, “KACAB: Knowledgeable, Adventurous, Comedic, Athletic and Brave.” I tell him those are perfect, and thank him for doing this exercise for me. I add, “You know to be brave, you have to do things that are daring and courageous.” He responds, “Yeah, I know, Mom.” “You need to take epic chances every now and then. Not be reckless, but rather courageous,” I add. “Yeah, I know, Mom,” he says. Again. And this reminds me that I was going to tell him how much I like the sound of it when he says “Yeah, I know, Mom.” He seems glad that I like it when he says that.

We head to the tent early and I tell him it will be a “leisure start”the next day, that there will be no alarm that goes off. A night owl, and epic sleeper-in’er if given the chance, Hayden cheers at this news. We snuggle into our tent, and listen to some of the Gaffigan audiobook before quickly falling to sleep. We both sleep better than we did the first night.

The next day after coffee, cocoa and oatmeal, we load the “toys” (football, packraft, fishing rod, and kite), into our packs and add some food and water, and head to Big Sandy Lake, then Clear Lake and eventually, Deep Lake.

 

At Deep Lake, Hayden inflates the raft and goes for a float on Deep Lake. Deep Lake is my favorite place in the Wind Rivers right now. It’s nestled under the dramatic granite peaks of Haystack, Steeple and East Temple Peak.

Deep Lake is like glass and these peaks are perfectly reflected in its waters as Hayden takes turns rowing and going places, and lounging. I can’t wait for my turn, and eventually it comes. There’s a group of women fishing on the shore of the lake under Haystack. Their entire conversation can be heard as a result of the echoing. Based on their conversation, they are a group of women I’d probably love to hang out with. This reminds me of my recent Epic Women expedition, and the fond memories I have of that time. I think of Nicole, Cindy, Laura, Monica, Cristy and Cheri, and smile. Again – and I’ve been doing this again and again and again all year long this year it seems – I realize the many blessings in my life. I watch as Hayden skips rocks from the slab on the shore where all of our toys are spread out.

I paddle in, and Hayden and I play catch with the football for some time, before we eat lunch. And here is my opportunity to have the “deep talk” at Deep Lake with Hayden – to talk about one of the things I’ve come for, a promise that we each make to each other. I explain to Hayden that this mother-son rite of passage expedition is not only an opportunity to share an inspiring and challenging adventure together, but to mark the mother-son rite of passage with a shared promise. I told him the promises we make can be simple – that for best results they should be simple – and I offer what I’m willing to promise him. “I promise I’ll trust you more, and give you more freedom if… and then you add what you’re willing to promise in return.” He thinks about this for some time, but not before quipping, “Dinga, Dinga Dong…”  I love this kid.

He mentions principles. I ask him, “What are your principles?” He thinks about this and then responds, “Family, Love, God, Faithfulness to others, Honesty, Humility, and Excellence.” We relate these principles to cairns – things that mark our trail so that we don’t get lost or wander aimlessly. We decide on this: Hayden promises to not stray from his principles if I promise to give him more freedom. It’s a wonderful moment, he and I, just sitting there after making this promise to one another. I add, “We’ll make mistakes. I won’t always be as trusting as I should be. I’m not perfect. And you’re not perfect. You’ll make mistakes and you’ll stray. But we’re promising to do our best with this promise to each other.” After that, we share a little more about things that are more personal.

 

At about 1:30pm, we pack up and wander in our Crocs down about a quarter-mile to the big slabs of granite that feature water running from Deep Lake up above to Clear Lake down below. We can see Mitchell Peak and the Cirque of the Towers and Clear Lake in one direction, and Deep Lake, and Haystack, Steeple, East Temple and Temple peaks in another. So much rock everywhere. This place astounds me, and I’m thrilled that Hayden is loving it.

We stop at a fresh pool of water between springs and watch as a large school of small trout swim, and rise to snatch insects. Hayden wades in the pool before sitting and whittling with the knife Jerry got for him for this trip. I try to fly the kite, but there’s not adequate wind. These are the Wind Rivers, I say to Hayden. Where is the wind? He’s not hiding that he’s a little thrilled there’s no wind for me to fly a kite. He is embarrassed at the prospects of his mom flying a kite out here. After not having any luck, I decide to lay down on my stomach and get some sun on the backs of my legs and arms, since sunning like a marmot the day before resulted in quite a lot of color on my face and the fronts of my arms and legs.

An hour of this perfect lazing passes before we pack up and start our 3-mile hike back to camp.

We return to camp with full bottles of water so we don’t have to do unnecessary work. Just cook Epic chicken fried rice, play some gin rummy, start a fire and roast marshmallows so we can have Epic bacon s’mores before closing in for our last night in the wilderness. During gin rummy, I ask Hayden if he can pick 4 things he wants in his life in order for it to be Epic. The words must start with E, P, I, and C. He needs time to ponder this and promises me he will. I share mine: Experience, Play, Inspiration and Curiosity.

After stuffing ourselves with our last dinner, we clean up the kitchen and move to the “lawn” portion of the best kept secret Epic campsite. There’s an established fire ring at the end of the lawn, sheltered nicely up against a gigantic boulder. Hayden starts a small fire and we make bacon s’mores. Epic yum, we both agree.

Then, for a couple hours we have a great conversation. We take turns asking each other questions. Some of the questions we asked, and each responded to include: Describe a perfect day. What is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to go through – one thing that was by choice, and another that was out of necessity. If you’re stranded on an island and you can have one single food item for the rest of your life there, what would it be? If you could have only one outfit, what would be the one outfit you would choose to wear? Who inspires you? Who do you trust the most? Who are your closest friends, and why? What do you get from your Mom, and what do you get from your Dad? What do you think people say behind your back? What do you wish they’d say? It was a fantastic conversation where we both shared a lot, while making a lot of discoveries about each other.

We ended the night finishing our gin rummy tournament. We agreed to stop when we got to 10 wins. After I won two in a row, Hayden won two games to be victorious, 10 games to 7. He was a gracious winner. He was The Great Competitor.

During our last night in the tent, we again returned to listening to Jim Gaffigan’s Dad is Fat audiobook. It is so funny, and we laughed out loud a lot before Hayden dozed off and I turned it off so I could listen to him sleep and hopefully find sleep myself. I didn’t sleep well. I was buzzing from the new memories Hayden and I had made together, and enjoying some star gazing by looking out of our tent’s door.

I forgot to mention in this blog post that Hayden is a sleep talker. At home, almost nightly he sits straight up and exclaims something that is loud enough for at least some of us to hear. He seldom remembers doing this. Right when I was about to fall asleep, he jutted up in the tent, looked at me and exclaimed, “Congratulations on your child!” And then collapsed back down. It was hilarious – and so Hayden. Of course when I told him about this as we were hiking out the next day, he couldn’t remember it.

We laughed, though, and wondered if his comment was the result of listening to Gaffigan’s audio book, which is all about having children, or if Hayden was congratulating me on having him as a child. Either way, it was a fitting end to our expedition, and for what it’s worth, I do feel as if I should be congratulated for this son of mine.

As we got to the car, Hayden announced he figured out his E, P, I and C: “Excitement, Principles, Intuition and Courage.”

• Categories: Adventure, Family, Fitness, Life and Leadership, Travel
• Tags: backpacking, epic adventure, mother son rite of passage, wind river range
• Comments: 3 Comments

The Time I Took My 18-year-old Goddaughter Backpacking

July 17th, 2016

I just returned from one of my most memorable and meaningful experiences in my backyard, Wind River Country. As I write this, I am basking in the memories of an overnight backpacking trip with my 18-year-old niece and Goddaughter from the Dallas, TX region. (Daylia is the oldest child of my younger sister, Amber.)

The adventure started early on July 14 when I fetched my Daylia from my parents’ house at 5:30am. Our destination: Island Lake in Upper Silas Canyon.

This would be a trip of so many firsts for Daylia. It would be her first time backpacking. It would be her first time to sleep in a tent. It would be her first time to start a campfire. It would be her first time to climb a mountain. And as for me, it would be my first time to take my Goddaughter on an epic adventure. This was a big deal that we had talked about a lot in the past, and finally the dream was coming true.

Daylia, who is very fit, had mentioned a few days before the trip that she expected to carry her share of our load, and for her backpack to feel legit. It did. It weighed about 32 pounds.

As someone who hikes about 1,000 miles a year in Wind River Country, and who leads a number and variety of epic adventures, I did not take lightly this opportunity to provide my Goddaughter with her first wilderness experience. I hoped to provide an unforgettable experience for my Goddaughter, and maybe – just maybe – this experience would convert this city girl into someone who might want to do more of this in the future. (Maybe the title of this blog post could be The Making of a Backpacker.)

After listening to part of a Ted Radio Hour podcast episode called, Champions, featuring the story of Amy Purdy, and her triumphant comeback from the brink of death to making history as a Paralympic snowboarder, we jammed out to Let the Rhythm Just, by The Polish Ambassador, and arrived at the trailhead pumped and ready to go.

It was a beautiful morning with the sun just up. The trees reflected perfectly in Fiddlers Lake as we started down the trail and into our adventure.

Daylia is extra special to me because she is my Goddaughter. I remember flying to Texas when she was about 6-8 months old, and snuggling and playing with her almost constantly. From the beginning, she had a charming personality and an inquisitive way about her. I have this vivid memory of her being contained in the middle of the queen sized bed in the guest room I was staying in, and her being propped up against a big pillow and using her hands as she talked (cooed) to me in an adorable language I couldn’t understand. The one thing that I did understand during that moment was that time with her inspired me to really want to be a mother.

Now look at her. 18 and all grown up. She starts college at the end of August, and will begin her studies and work to become a Physician’s Assistant.

As we headed down the trail, at first we were quiet. I didn’t start in with the conversation right away. I like to provide space and a bit of solitude for whomever I’m leading as they settle into the cadence of moving through the forest and over the rocky trails with everything they need to sustain them on their backs and under their own power. The birds chirped and sang, and the day’s new sun lit our way. Just another blissful morning in Wind River Country, I thought to myself.

At the signed junction with the Christina Lake Trail, we removed our packs, and drank some water before continuing toward Upper Silas Lake. As we hiked through the woods, and up and down hills, I asked Daylia how the making of a backpacker was going. “I can feel it in my butt,” she said. “But at least after this, I will have Buns of Steel.” We both laughed, and I agreed. Then, Daylia asked me how I first got into hiking. I waited until I wasn’t on an uphill, and then shared the story about losing my Division I basketball scholarship in Year 3 of college, explaining how I found myself “without a map” after that happened. I started spending time alone, healing, reading books – and very importantly, hiking. I appreciated her asking the question because it allowed me to share a point that I have come to feel so strongly about, and around which so much of my leadership work, coaching and guiding is centered.

I explained how losing my scholarship turned out to be one of my most important and spectacular failures. I shared that I don’t think life would be what it is – as wonderful as it is – and certainly we wouldn’t be here sharing this adventure right now, if not for that “failure.” As we hiked, I asked her about some of her failures. She shared about a failure involving running the 800 meters in track a few years back, and about another involving a violin solo that didn’t go as planned. I encouraged her to look at the positives that came out of those, and to consider those events not as failures, but as events that will somehow inform her life going forward. I added, however, that it took me almost 20 years to look back at my aforementioned “failure,” and to realize that it wasn’t a failure after all but rather one of my greatest gifts.

At Upper Silas Lake, we took our packs off and enjoyed a 15-minute snack break on the shore. Daylia ate a healthy, yummy-looking BLT, and I ate my first Snickers bar of the trip. It was a beautiful morning. Upper Silas Lake has a big granite mountain at its upper end, and its water was as smooth and as clear as glass. Every now and then a fish jumped through its surface, and I did as I always do when this happens, briefly regretted that I didn’t pack my fly rod.

Refueled, we continued up the trail to Island Lake, which we reached in good time. We found a wonderful campsite, the same one Jerry and I and our sons have camped at before. Perfect, I thought to myself. I taught her how to set up our tent and we worked together to get our accommodations in place. I also shared with Daylia that we’d Leave No Trace, and explained what that important ethic means.

After establishing our camp, we ate some lunch, drank more water, and then set out, with our lighter packs, for Thumb Lake. As far as Daylia knew, we were going to establish camp at Island Lake, and then take a quick day hike to Thumb Lake, and that would be our itinerary for the first of our two days in the wilderness.That was correct, except I also had in store some additional options…

The night before our adventure, I became curious if there’d be a mountain we could climb on our route. (I love to have people climb mountains because climbing mountains is such a great metaphor for personal development, and for being in pursuit of something in life or work.) Jerry looked at a topo map, and suggested we might be able to get up Roaring Fork Mountain from the area above Thumb Lake. We studied the maps and could see there were possibilities.

When Daylia and I reached Thumb Lake, we removed our packs and hunkered down to enjoy the views, and drink some more water and eat some dried mangoes. Daylia enjoyed her Snickers bar here, too. Wildflowers of every color were everywhere, and we both remarked at the beauty of Thumb Lake and the surrounding granite mountains with snowfields.

“I have a couple of things I’d like to propose if you’re interested,” I offered. Daylia, being the trooper that she is, asked me what those things were. Pointing up beyond Thumb Lake, I said we could either “go explore that lake that you can tell exists up there in that cirque, and-or we could try getting up that mountain. I pointed to the notch (what some people call Devil’s Bite, or the Cookie Bite) on Roaring Fork Mountain’s high ridge. Daylia has seen this bite from Roaring Fork Lake, and from our cabin, and she was impressed that it was just right there, so close to where we were. And yet not very close. In fact, from where we sat, I couldn’t see a route to the notch that I would be comfortable leading my Goddaughter on, especially on her very first wilderness trip. Briefly, as I sized up our options, I was a little disappointed, but then I discovered some possible routes we could take from a second cirque up higher that, if we were lucky, might allow us to gain the ridgeline, and ultimately, the top of Roaring Fork Mountain.

“Let’s first go see the upper lakes,” I suggested, and we returned to our feet and headed up. We skirted the first upper lake (which is situated in the cirque below the notch of Roaring Fork) and then crossed a huge boulder field to a spring where we refilled our water bottles, before continuing up over some snow and more boulders to the most beautiful cirque and lake we’d see up close on this adventure. There was still a huge slab of ice. The shades of green and blue around the ice were breathtakingly beautiful. Some really thin sheets of ice were sloughing off at the head of the steep cirque, which included tall and massive granite mountains that were dressed with snowfields. (Earlier in the day, I had shared with Daylia how I like to look for heart rocks and other hearts. I noticed that one of the snowfields directly above the lake’s surface resembled a heart. “I spy a heart,” I said. “Do you see it?” And she did.)

I shared some skills about mountain climbing and hiking up steep, often loose, terrain with Daylia, and we started venturing up a route I predicted would get us to the top of the mountain top’s ridge.

Daylia was a champion! We moved together, deliberately, as I was more motherly than I probably needed to be. But she was “precious cargo!” I suddenly felt the enormous responsibility of keeping this beautiful young woman who is so special to me, and to so many, safe and in good health and spirits. We developed a system where we’d take about 20 steep uphill lunges, and then lean into the mountain, rocks and tundra to take mini breaks. During these mini breaks, I encouraged Daylia to look up, catch our breath, get our bearings and to take in the views below.

Altitude often causes people to get light-headed, and the experience of climbing a mountain can be dizzying and disorienting. Climbing a steep mountain, on a route that featured huge dropoffs into a still-ice-covered mountain lake in a steep cirque with no shore, or chance of rescue, was high stakes. I had explained to Daylia at the start of our adventure about the high stakes out here. I said what I often say to people I’m leading up the trail. “I don’t mean to be dramatic, and yet I do. The stakes are high out here. If you turn an ankle or hurt yourself out here, we’re hours, if not days, from help. As a result, it’s critical that we are more deliberate about where we place our feet, and what we choose to do or not do.” This right here is a case in point, I thought to myself as we climbed up this steep mountain, little section by little section, and with such focused attention and great care.

“Look how far we’ve come already,” remarked Daylia, as we were about halfway up the mountain. I acknowledged that fact. In fact, in my humble opinion, that is one of the greatest values of climbing a mountain – taking time to look back and down and acknowledging your progress so far. It can be inspiring, and provide inspiration for continuing.

Soon, we saw the end of our climb. “It’s right there,” said Daylia. “We have to make it now.” And make it we did. As we gained the ridge, we were speechless. Before us was a panoramic view filled with a range of tall granite mountains, including Wind River Peak, and Lizard Head in the distance. Below us were the main lakes of the Stough Creek Basin. While accessing the mountaintop this way was a first not only for Daylia, but also for me, the top of the mountain was as I remembered it from the time Jerry and I had accessed it from Roaring Fork saddle a few years ago – rolling, littered with a googolplex of rocks.  

We quickly bundled up with our warmest layers and puffy coats, hats and mittens. We hugged and gave each other high 5’s and each snapped photos from different vantages, as well as some selfies of the two of us, “victorious” on top of Daylia’s first mountain, and on top of our first mountain climbed together. I watched as Daylia soon hunkered down behind a boulder that was the size of an SUV’s bucket seat to get out of the chill of the high winds.

We stayed about 20 minutes before deciding we wanted to start down if for no other reason to get out of the cold and the wind. We took about 20 steps below the summit on our descent, and it was suddenly hot and still again. We de-layered and returned to our summer attire, and talked excitedly about what we had just accomplished and seen. We were both giddy about – and proud of – our accomplishment. “I don’t want to steal our thunder, but, as a world-class climber (Phil Powers, Wyoming’s only man to climb K2 without oxygen) once told me, the summit is only the halfway point. Most injuries happen while descending, so even though we’re excited and we summited, we need to pay even more attention going down.” Daylia, now a backpacker, and ‘Epic certified,’ understood and agreed.

Before we knew it, we were back at the spring from which we had refilled our water bottles at hours before, and walking across van-sized boulders toward Thumb Lake. It was a glorious day. Until now the sky had been cloudless and certain, and as blue as my Goddaughter’s eyes. Now, there were some clouds forming in the sky, but they were of the harmless variety – not tall, pure white, spread out, and shaped like misshaped cotton balls. We both agreed that the clouds made the view more interesting.

We were back at camp by 4pm. Daylia wanted to learn how to start a fire, so with a little instruction from me, she did, and it was a good one! Especially because its smoke helped clear our camp of some of the hordes of mosquitos. I made us coffee. By the way, how is it that my Goddaughter is old enough to want to drink coffee with me? Once again, I’m reminded of how fast the time flies, and how, in a seeming blink-of-an-eye a child is a young adult in the prime of her life. This reminds me that I have brought in a couple of gifts for Daylia. I give her a book that is a new favorite of mine, called The Gutsy Girl: Escapades for Your Life of Epic Adventure, by Caroline Paul, and also an Epic journal, with a few suggested prompts to help her reflect on her Epic life.

Next, I teach Daylia how to set up and start the camp stove, and she helps me make what we decide to call “Epic Island Lake Quesadillas,” which were tortillas fried in lots of butter, and filled with pepper jack cheese, spicy green chiles and Ro*tel tomatoes. Daylia loves them and makes me feel like a world-class chef. I don’t mean to brag, but they were quite delicious, in part because they were so hard-earned.

We enjoyed a lot of meaningful conversation, made s’mores that were also – you guessed it – Epic. We each roasted double marshmallows and added them to dark chocolate with almonds and graham crackers. We snarfed two Epic s’mores each, and then spied the Big Dipper and the North Star, before heading into the tent. My Fitbit indicated we had logged 14 miles and almost 400 flights of stairs. I told Daylia how epic she is, and told her the day was epic by anyone’s standards, but especially mine. It would be a day I would never forget.

When we got nestled into the compact, 2-person tent, Daylia remarked, “This is a little cozy compared to what I’m used to.” I had her right where I wanted her…very near to me. When I shared this tent with my oldest son, Wolf, last year on our mother-son rite of passage trip, he had said the same thing, as I made him snuggle into my right arm the way he had so many times over the years beginning when he was an infant. I didn’t make Daylia cuddle with me, but it sure felt wonderful to have my Goddaughter so near to me.

We said good night, and I told my Daylia that I loved her, and that I was so proud of her, and that I wouldn’t want to be anywhere with anyone else right now.

As we turned off our headlamps, I listened, and there was not a single sound. I think it was the most quiet night I’ve ever spent in a tent in the often-windy Wind Rivers.

I rose the next day at around 6am, started a fire to keep the mosquitos at bay. I made coffee for myself while looking at perfect morning reflections of Island Lake. Daylia slept soundly in the tent. For two hours, I sat and reflected on how blessed I am, and thanked God for all of the blessings in my life, while hearing only the songs of birds. I thought of Jerry and the boys, and of my parents, who first inspired me to get outside in Wind River Country. I thought of Wolf, who was in the same wilderness somewhere on Day 4 of his 30-day NOLS course, and wondered if he was up early too.

Daylia and I had a great hike out later in the morning, and right as we thought the adventure could not get any better, we spied a bullwinkle moose in the meadow after Upper Silas Lake, browsing on willows. It looked at us to make sure we weren’t a threat, and for some moments, we watched the moose, and he watched us.

Here’s a video I captured after descending our mountain:

Afterword:

On our drive back to Lander after our epic adventure, Daylia suggested we make our Epic Island Lake Quesadillas and show our families a slideshow of our photos and share about our adventure, which we will do tonight. I can’t wait. I will let her tell the story.

Speaking of her version of the story, my helpful, wonderful, beautiful, adventurous, smart, interesting, courageous – and Epic – Goddaughter agreed to answer some questions for me. Those questions, and her responses, follow:

What all “firsts” did this trip include? 

It was my first time backpacking, hiking by, and seeing seven lakes that were new for me, climbing a mountain, starting a campfire, setting up and sleeping in a tent, seeing a moose while on foot, and eating epic rotel and green chile quesadillas.

What was the hardest part about this epic adventure?

The motivation to keep going was definitely the most difficult part. Doing all of those steep uphill and deep lunges was hard!

What were some other challenging aspects of this epic adventure for you?

Some really challenging aspects of the trip included the fear that I would disappoint myself and Shelli, or that I wasn’t strong enough physically and mentally to make the further venture of climbing up a mountain. Some other mundane and obvious challenging aspects were sleeping in a forest, going bathroom in the woods, and the shooting pain in my butt (now buns of steel!) and ankles all the way up.

What was the most fun part of the adventure?

Our conversations, and I also gloried in the sights, and in eating the best quesadillas I’ve ever had (thank you again.)

What was the biggest surprise for you of this adventure?

I climbed a mountain!!!

What was your favorite part of the whole experience?

The best part was realizing that I’m so much stronger than I had thought. By (hesitatingly) saying Yes to the Island Lake adventure, the additional venture to Thumb Lake, and then up the mountain. I feel so self-fulfilled and happy to have accomplished something so much greater than what I thought possible. And I got to do so for my first time with Shelli, whose mountain climb to that particular peak was her first, too!

What was your favorite part about the mountain climb?

Seeing the view from above—all the lakes and mountains—was my favorite, but I also really loved coming down from the peak because it was so cold and windy up there!

Of all the nature and beauty you saw, what was the most beautiful sight you saw?

I actually really liked the Island Lake’s view from our campsite. The glass lake with the tree and

mountain reflections was breathtaking. I also loved seeing all the lakes we’d backpacked past on top of the peak.

What was your favorite part about “camping?”

The campfire was so much fun! It was great roasting marshmallows for s’mores. I felt serene hearing the fire crackle, and watching the flame’s glow.

What insight, or insights will you take from this adventure and epic experience?

If there’s something you so badly want to accomplish or experience but fear begins to overtake you, just say Yes and go for that adventure. You’ll live a much more fulfilling and exciting life, truly living the phrase, “carpe diem” – to seize the day.

Do you think you will be changed in some way as a result of this backpacking experience in the Wind Rivers? If so, how?

I feel stronger physically and emotionally. I never thought I’d be able to carry poles and a 32lb

backpack up a rocky mountain for 1.5-2 hours straight, nor did I emotionally feel up to it, with

exhaustion and the pressure to quit creeping over me.

Any advice for others who have never done anything like this?

Just go with it! You’re definitely stronger than you think you are.

Anything else you’d like to add?

You can do anything through the motivation of a friend and mentor. Without the positive and

encouraging influence of a teacher, I never would have accomplished what I had that day.

FINAL NOTES:

I can provide unforgettable and meaningful custom adventures such as mother-son rite or passage trips, and other special occasion adventures similar to the one I provide my Goddaughter with. Email me if you’d like to discuss a wide range of possibilities.

If you’d like to read more about adventures and hikes in my beloved Wind River Mountains, you can check out a list of several headlines and articles HERE.

• Categories: Adventure, Family, Fitness, Life and Leadership, Travel
• Tags: epic adventure, epic backpacking, epic life, hiking, roaring fork, shelli johnson, silas canyon, thumb lake, wind river range
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