Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Outdoor Kids

You don’t have to work hard to get your kid to like playing in the outdoor arena. Climbing trees, splashing around in a creek, hiking through the woods…these are all things that fall into the “naturally enjoyable” category for most youngsters. Even the little intricacies they gobble up, like packing up their backpack, looking at the map and choosing their snacks. For the most part. So many of the intentional parent moves are about getting kids to do things that are good for them and a lot of them involve a lot of convincing. You very rarely have to convince a kid to play outdoors and enjoy themselves, but you will have to work if you are going to teach them to appreciate it.

There are a couple of reasons why.

Competition – I heard stats a couple of weeks ago about how visitation to the National Parks is trending down and the average age of the visitor is trending up. Now, I personally don’t know if this is true but it wouldn’t surprise me. I find my child’s attention is fought for every waking minute of his life. He has an army of electronic options ready to entertain him with thousands and thousands of choices. Constantly.

“Wired” Parents – It is easy to talk about how electronics have changed the world for our kids, but in my experience those same kids are being impacted by parents whose lives are also drastically altered by devices and connectivity. A quote my wife and I read the other day said that for nearly every parent in the country, the last thing they touch at night and the first thing they touch in the morning is their phone.

Exposure – As pleasant as my childhood was, we weren’t exposed to much appreciation for the
outdoors. We played on the ball teams when they were in season, went to beach in the summer if we were lucky, and reserved the outdoors for hunting or fishing. We would visit a state park or two each year, typically the same ones. The only National Parks we ever went to were Smoky Mountains and Mammoth Caves, both great places. And this was the exact same blueprint of every friend and family I knew growing up. Our exposure was limited by the routines and cultures we were familiar with.

So when I think of how I want my son to grow up knowing the outdoors and appreciating the wilderness, the plan requires some strategy. You are competing for attention, and there are a lot of competitors, so first we always strive to make things as enjoyable for him as possible. The hikes can’t be too long or too tough. Fatigue can ruin everything. We try to cut him loose a bit and try to not to constantly tell him what not to do (which is an easy one to fall into).
Don’t swing on that.
Stay out of the mud.
Don’t climb on rocks.
Again, these can be a mood killer for the young adventurers.

We try to build trips around something with some novelty for the young mind. A swinging bridge, a hidden arch, a cave to explore. We make a big deal of the snacks and food. They love to compare what they’ve packed. We try to coordinate to invite a buddy at every opportunity. As much as we like to be together as a family, having friends along is always a special treat.

We talk as a family about limiting time on electronics and collectively work to maintain balance in these areas. Although this seems overwhelming for some people to consider, I have found that once we turn it off and store it in the backpack, you forget all about it shortly after you start down the trail.

And lastly, we commit to exposing our family to as many diverse and engaging outdoor experiences as we can. Some big and some small, but definitely some of both. Every year, we are going to set goals about how many nights we want to spend in a tent, or days on a trail or on a bike. We talk about places we have dreamed of going and try to go to some of them.

And when we are not out there going, we talk about going. My son seems to write about it every year when he gets back to school when they ask what you’ve done over the summer. We watch outdoor-themed movies and shows about the parks. We try, as parents, to live out what we say in hopes to model important themes for him – that there are great things to be experienced outdoors. There’s excitement, there’s adventure, and there’s much to be learned. And the wilderness is a place to be enjoyed, experienced, and protected.

Sometimes, you might even have to harness it back in. Tonight, he said, “Is summer long enough to visit every place in the world? How could we do that and fit it all in?”


Monday, February 5, 2018

Plateau Point

Plateau Point is located just a little over five miles from the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, most easily reached by the Bright Angel Trail, the world-famous access route that most notably allows thousands upon thousands of awestruck tourists to dip their toe into the proverbial waters of this deep ravine. Most only make it over the lip.
The industrial-strength route of choice will bring you down seven or eight miles of classic scrambling and skittering known as the Hermit Trail, until you make a right and eventually emerge over the top of Tonto Pass (not the actual site’s name but it should be). After a cold, clear night under the stars at Horn Creek campsite, one can light out before the sun and arrive at Plateau Point right when the gods show up.
For months and months, Plateau Point was just a name on a map.
Or a picture on a computer, like so many other special places. Seeing pictures of this place was the inspiration behind putting the Grand Canyon trip together.
But in an instant, it became something else. Something more.
Like so many other places.
After my wife and I fumbled around by headlight, breaking camp and pulling on our 30-pound packs for the third morning beneath the rim.
After trudging tired feet down the short connector of trail, feeling the presence of the huge expanse lying dormant off to our left, our boot sounds the only noise in the silence of the predawn canyon.
After arriving at our destination, dropping our packs and finding just the right seat for the show. After brewing a hot cup of coffee to serve as our show time companion.
After the sky peeled back layers of black to gray and seeing things around us take form, signaling the time to switch off the headlamps.
After the red burst from the East. After the slightest sprinkling of day that drew colors from every corner within view, colors that show their faces only at dawn and dusk. After the sun. After the river. After the wind.
Plateau Point became more than just a place.
We sat for over an hour, neither saying a word while the world was revealed around us.
I thought right then that I would never forget this time, this place. Then I immediately wondered if that was true. How many times have I been somewhere, a place beautiful and bountiful, where I thought in the moment that the memory would be etched forever in my mind? Only to be overcome by the next place, the next sunrise, the next moment. Some memories stay, some go.
This morning, from high on the point, the Colorado River seemed a dull greenish-brown strip bearing down through the rock walls. Our previous nights’ camp was on the waters’ shores, and I can’t help but marvel over the contrasting perspectives. Up close, the river was raging and fast, loudly galloping along its path. From 1300 feet up, it is merely a silent partner, one element in a comprehensive landscape.
Rage.
Silence.
Although out of range to see its true self, I knew it was still down there, cutting and carving this beauty with its power and persuasion. The surface was lively and sporting, masking the raw carnage taking place at the bottom, the tearing apart and wearing down of the very surface it had worked so hard to reveal. The struggle was admirable, the river tending every day to its creation, one born out of friction.
And maybe that was the difference. The turmoil that was the Colorado had created something eternal, something wonderful and lasting, but it was made through pain. Up close, it was so hard to see that wonderful purpose because of the rage and the waves, but a little perspective had changed all that.  
Maybe it was the struggle and the journey. 
Like the one we took over the last three days to get here this morning.
Maybe we would remember this place forever, not in spite of but because of the pain we went through to get here.

Maybe this was more than just a place.

-JW