Tips For Skiing With Kids In Montana

Meet the Jennings family:

Matt and Kate Jennings both adore winter. Matt grew up in Montana, and Kate is from Vermont, so it was a given that they’d teach their kiddo how to ski as soon as Josie could walk.

Turns out that Josie, now 7, enjoys winter sports as much (or maybe more!) than Kate and Matt. In addition to downhill and cross-country skiing, Josie also fell in love with ice hockey. When the family is out exploring ski trails or resorts, they always stop to test out the local ice rinks, too.

How did you start taking winter adventures as a family?

We used to strap Josie into our Burley ski trailer as a baby, then tow it behind us while we cross-country skied. As Josie got older, we brought along tiny skis.

At first Josie could only last maybe 200 yards—even the littlest hill is super tough for kids! Luckily, Josie would simply get back in the Burley to rest, eat a bucketload of snacks, then try again a bit later.

PRO TIP: Put plenty of books and toys within your child’s reach in the tow-behind ski trailer.

Downhill skiing is less work for kids. They just have to stand on their skis and off they go! But it’s a lot of work for the parents who teach them. It can be super frustrating—and painful—to be in a snow plow for hours, trying to convince your kid to turn away from trees and other hazards. We’d trade off teaching Josie while the other parent skied a run or two.

Then when Josie turned 3, we started paying for a half-day ski lesson every other weekend. It totally saved our sanity! Kids learn so much more from professionals who aren’t their parents. Plus, then parents get the chance to ski together again.

What was one of Josie’s breakthrough moments?

A major breakthrough was when Josie learned to control the skis versus the skis controlling Josie. Since Josie’s favorite part of skiing is “going fast,” it was important to learn to control the speed rather than always yard-sale-ing into a heap or launching off jumps blindly (which happened more times than we would like to admit).

Everything seemed to click at age 5 or 6. Before then, Josie couldn’t ski more than two runs in a row without a potty break and snacks. Thanks to regular ski lessons and practice, Josie’s stamina increased remarkably.

Now, we ski together as a family most of the day—when we can keep up! Josie’s like a bullet down the slopes. The work for us these days is to bomb down the mountain behind Josie and pray we all arrive safely at the bottom.

Tell us a few things you’ve learned about skiing with kids:

First off, skiing with young kids is definitely hard. You have to keep track of so many pieces of clothing and gear! We’ve had to buy all sorts of stuff once we get to the mountain because we forgot something at home.

Systems help. Before you go, decide who’s doing what—like one parent dresses the kid while the other buys the lift tickets. You can also keep all of the gear packed between trips in their own bag/box so its easy to grab and go. Now that Josie is older, we lay out all of the gear together the night before so we can see what still needs to be packed.

PRO TIP: Bring a big sled to carry everything from the car to the lodge and back again, including the kids.

The biggest meltdowns seem to happen between the parking lot and the lodge. Now Josie’s older and we all carry our own skis to the lodge. Plus, we ski together to the car as our last run of the day.

Does your family have a favorite ski hill?

Discovery Ski Area, or “Disco”, is our favorite mountain, hands-down. It’s super family friendly and affordable. Their “Kinder-Ski” lessons for ages 2-6 include a free lunch and playtime if kids aren’t feeling into the lesson. They have the world’s most amazing cookies that can keep any kid motivated to do one more run.

Discovery also has an Easy Chair, which is free for kids under 5 and only $12 for everyone else. It’s only a few feet off the ground (adult knee-breaker!), which is good since the kids tend to drop poles or gloves—or sometimes themselves!

It gives kids a big boost of confidence to be able to ride a chairlift alone. And parents can relax because most of the families who go to Discovery seem to keep a lookout for all the littles, not just their own. Their lodge overlooks the Easy Chair, so you can sit back and grab a beer while your kid does laps.

Once kids can ski a longer blue run, they can make it to the yurt on the back side of Discovery via Winning Ridge on the Granite Chairlift. It’s the ultimate bring your own lunch spot with a fireplace, tables and chairs. The kids are psyched because they made it to an area with double-black diamonds without having to actually ski one. And parents are psyched since they can peel off and ski a couple bowls and chutes while the kids play in the yurt.

If you ask kids, most would say that their favorite run at Disco is Tea Cups. This run is pure magic for tiny skis and little bodies. For parents, though, watching your kid speed between trees, ski over rocks and logs, and disappear into the woods is part thrill and part terror.

PRO TIP: Wear your rock skis for Tea Cups, and don’t be surprised if your kid makes you ski this run over and over!  

Where do you stay when you ski at Discovery?

Several times each winter we’ll rent a big house with a few other families on Georgetown Lake at the base of the mountain. You can ice skate in Philipsburg, ice fish on the lake, or cross-country ski nearby, which is nice, since young kids can’t ski more than two or three days in a row without getting tired or bored.

If it’s just the three of us, we stay at the Broadway Inn in Philipsburg. The inn offers a free breakfast, and is conveniently situated right above the Philipsburg Brewery. There’s also a beautiful ice rink in downtown Philipsburg, with a warming hut and borrow skates.

Sometimes we stop at Fairmont Hot Springs in Anaconda on the way home to soak, which is always popular with Josie, thanks to its massive outdoor waterslide.

What are other destinations do you enjoy skiing as a family?

We like skiing at Bridger near Bozeman, especially now that Josie is able to keep up. During spring break, we go a bit further to explore new mountains in Idaho and California.

We also use Montana’s cross-country trails quite a bit. From the parking lot at Discovery, you can ski on the groomed Echo Lake Trails, which is awesome for parents who don’t downhill ski. Bozeman also has world-class cross-country trails and a biathlon range at Crosscut Mountain Ski Center, as does Seeley Lake.

Any last words of wisdom for other families?

On the slopes, nothing beats sweet treats for motivating kids. We keep M&Ms or Skittles in our pockets to encourage Josie onto the lift or down a new run. And letting kids have a cookie or hot chocolate at the end of the day is the golden ticket!

PRO TIP: If the line at a lodge’s restaurant is too long when you’ve got a cranky kiddo, try heading to the bar for speedier hot chocolate delivery (don’t forget the whipped cream)!

Don’t be afraid to let the kids fall. As Josie used to tell other kids on the slopes a hockey adage: “If you’re not falling, you’re not trying.”

Lastly, stick with it. We’ve seen both kids and parents in tears (including us!) on the slopes, but the joy of one good family run makes all the frustration worth it. Someday soon, Josie probably won’t want to ski with lame-old Mom and Dad, so we’re enjoying every moment we get. 

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7 Tips For Taking Kids Outside When It’s Muddy, Slushy & Wet

Braving nature with kids when conditions are less than ideal can be challenging. But the benefits are worth the hassle.

“Not again!” my four-year-old son cried as he tottered sideways onto the slushy spring snow, cross-country skis akimbo.

I planted my poles and took a deep breath, trying to summon patience as Talon wailed out his frustration. His nine-month-old sister joined the screaming chorus from the trailer strapped around my husband’s waist.

Teaching kids winter sports is my least favorite parenting task—probably because winter is my least favorite season, even though I live in Montana. I usually manage to stay positive about winter through the holidays, when it’s still novel to cozy up and watch the snow fall.

By March, though, it’s pretty dang hard to muster enthusiasm for the umpteenth visit to the sledding hill or ice rink.

This year spring has been extra slow in shining through the cold across much of the northern U.S. We’ve got a three-foot berm of dirty snow piled alongside the driveway and playgrounds still coated in melting ice and mud—which makes getting outside with tiny tots challenging.

But the only thing worse than going outside when it’s slushy and slick is staying inside all day with two energetic little kids. My worst moments as a mom inevitably arise after we’ve all been cooped up too long.

That’s why Rob and I had loaded cross-country skis, sleeping bags, and piles of coats into our truck last Saturday morning. The weather forecast called for bright sun and above-freezing temps, so we decided to combat cabin fever with an overnight outing to a friend’s rustic cabin an hour north of Missoula.

After Talon’s fourth meltdown in ten minutes, though, I almost threw up my hands and yelled that we should just go home. Almost.

Instead I took a deep breath. I inhaled the scent of warm pine, lifted my face to the sun, and heard the melody of the creek. Calmer, I squatted to pick up my son, offering him a few gummy bears for being brave and trying something new. It worked like a charm.

Twenty minutes (and two more gummies) later, we made it to a small bridge over the creek where we stopped to have a picnic. Craggy mountains jutted up against the neon blue sky. Birds chirped in a glade beside the creek, picking at the just-budding leaves.

The baby was finally asleep, lulled by the rhythm of swishing skis. Talon, proud as a peacock to have made it on his own, scampered over to have “boat races” with his dad.

As they tossed sticks into the water, I stretched in the sunshine munching on a granola bar, grateful for the quiet and for the view. And grateful, most of all, to have pushed through the not-so-fun parts of packing, gearing up, and coaxing kids forward so that we could all arrive at this stunning spot.

Getting into nature with young children can be challenging, to say the least. Like me, many parents feel overwhelmed by the logistics or perceived risks of venturing outside with their children. Especially when conditions are less than ideal.

But the benefits are usually worth the hassle. 

Our family is happier when we play outside and we bet yours will be, too:

1. Several studies have proven that being in nature relieves stress, increases creativity, and encourages kindness and generosity.

2. Adventures outside—whether its walking or skiing, birdwatching or canoeing—help kids problem-solve and learn new skills, while also supporting emotional and physical well-being for the whole family.

3. Finding fun in the fresh air draws kids away from screens that narrow their focus, minimizing nature-deficit disorder. It helps them connect with the people around them as well as recognize that we share this special planet with many other critters.

4. Outdoor activities are often inexpensive (or even free!) ways for kids to bond with their family and friends. It’s easy to locate used recreational gear if you’re interested in learning a new activity, or to simply enjoy public trails, ponds, or parks on your own two feet.

Here are a few tips for taking young kids outside this spring:

1. Pack snacks (and then pack more snacks).

Not only does food fuel the body and prevent meltdowns, it can act as a handy incentive for motivating kids to make the distance. Bars, nuts, jerky, and dried fruit are easy to stuff in pockets or backpacks. Consider bringing a special sweet treat to reward your kids at the end of the adventure.

2. Start small.

Don’t expect to scale the whole mountain on your first spring outing, or bike laps around the block when your kids (and you!) haven’t ridden in months. Set a realistic goal for your distance, destination, or time outside—and then cut it in half. This creates room to notice improvement as the season goes on.

3. Straight lines are boring.

While adults like to hike from Point A to Point B, kids prefer to travel in loops and zig-zags. Rather than getting agitated about sticking to a trail or a plan, be content to explore in circles and follow their curiosity wherever it may lead—even if it’s only following the snowmelt down a gutter and into a storm drain. It may take longer (see #2), but it free-form adventuring results in a more relaxed and happy family outing.

4. Let them get wet, dirty, and cold.

Don’t try to avoid the mess when conditions are inclement—embrace them. Encourage kids to muck about in the mud and splash through the water, and join in yourself (it’s fun!). Prepare before you leave with the appropriate clothing: lots of layers if it’s cold, waterproof boots, rain pants over regular pants, a coat and gloves. If you don’t own this gear, a plastic bag works just as well pulled up over shoes and tied around their legs. A garbage bag with a hole cut out for their head serves as a great poncho. Throw clothes in the laundry and kids in a bath when you get home.

5. Bring friends (for kids and adults).

It’s amazing how much more kids can accomplish when they have a buddy along. Peers provide children with friendly competition, distraction during tough spots, and double the fun. Same goes for parents—more hands make lighter work and louder laughter.

6. Make it a game.

When the nagging and whining start to escalate, change the focus into make-believe activities or short competitions. Race to the next rock by skipping or hopping. Pretend you’re on a ship in search of the next deep puddle to sail across. Play hide-and-seek in the trees as if you’re a lion stalking deer.

7. Try something new to everyone.

It helps diffuse mounting frustration if kids see that their parents mess up, too. They laugh in relief when we also fall down or trip or drop a canoe paddle. Plus, kids learn how to deal with their emotions by watching how we handle our own. Find an activity for your family that makes everyone feel a tad uncomfortable or awkward. Then try using humor as you make mistakes together.

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How To Backpack With A Baby

Don’t let nay-sayers stop you from adventuring outside with your babe

When I was pregnant and living on a sailboat in the South Pacific, my friends back home told me to “get my kicks in” before our first baby arrived. It made me nervous. The thought of waiting a decade (or more) to adventure over high peaks, open ocean, and fast rivers made me more nauseous than morning sickness.

After hitchhiking 6,000 miles across the Pacific Ocean as sailing crew, my husband and I conceived a child on a small tropical island in the Kingdom of Tonga. We moved home to Montana a few months before he was born, determined to still kick around aplenty in the outdoors.

Talon, now 10 months old, has been camping, sailing, rafting, backpacking, biking, and cross­-country skiing. Many of our trips are multi­-day adventures, and few of them are planned more than a few days in advance. Not only does Talon survive these trips, he thrives.

When friends ask if it’s hard traveling with a baby, I tell them it’s easier than staying home. Seriously: while it can be difficult to juggle packing with child management on the front-­end, once we’re out in the wilderness, it feels simple. Talon stares at the trees, babbles to the brooks, watches the waves, and tastes rocks and dirt (hey, it’s good for their immune system, right?).

Camping gear creates hours of entertainment for babes. We can cook an entire meal while Talon bangs on a pot, or take a snooze while he grabs at the zippers in our tent. He sleeps best to the sound of nearby creeks. It makes my husband happier, healthier, and (I think) better parents. Here’s why I’m convinced it’s better to bring babies on outdoor adventures sooner rather than later:

Kids only get heavier
Take them backpacking or pack-rafting while their weight is nominal, and you can go farther and move faster.

Babies don’t talk
No one asks “are we there yet?” except you. Sure, crying is its own (painful) language, but peaceful journeys are more likely with calm woods and quiet water.

They don’t need as much gear
Babies don’t need shoes or sleeping bags (just zip ‘em into a Patagonia bunting) or their own fishing rod/bike/boat. All they need is a boob or bottle, your warm body and smiling face.

Naps are travel­-friendly
It’s tough to resist the rocking motion of your mama or papa walking you to sleep. Wearing your baby in a front­ sling or backpack gives you trekking time while the little one snoozes. Boats lull babies to sleep with their gentle rocking motion, and they can sleep on you or in a pack­-n-­play rigged to the stern.

Sailing With Kids In The British Virgin Islands

Chartering a catamaran in the Caribbean is fun for the whole family — especially when you bring friends

This story first appeared Dec. 6, 2018 in The Washington Post

I stood on the bow as we sailed into the small turquoise bay off Virgin Gorda. Feet splayed for balance in the Caribbean swells, I shaded my eyes to keep a sharp lookout for any coral reef in our path — a hazard to the catamaran we’d chartered for a week.

A flash of silver appeared in front of me with blue markings on its back. “Mahi!” I called. The two little boys watching from the cabin craned to see. My husband whooped and reached for his fishing rod while keeping one hand on the helm. But the fish raced away.

We followed its path to anchor for the night in Savannah Bay, where we promptly dove in. The sea was bathwater-warm and just as clear. Our 4-year-old son dog-paddled beside me in his yellow life jacket and goggles — just like we had practiced in the public pool back in Montana — thrilled at the colorful fish that circled around our toes.

We had flown into the British Virgin Islands (BVIs) the evening before on the tail end of a storm, which had stirred up bigger-than-normal swells and winds. A few of our crew — six adults and three kids — had popped a Dramamine for the two-hour sail from Tortola to Virgin Gorda. Luckily, the rest of the week looked to be dry and sunny, back to the consistent trade winds that make these 60-odd tropical islands one of the top cruising destinations in the world.

My husband and I are avid sailors and — as one friend jokes — “island connoisseurs.” We’ve sailed over 10,000 miles through a dozen countries. Once our son was born, sailing also became my favorite way to bond as a family — no television, no traffic, no to-dos to distract us from each other. Just the sound of the surf, the delight in discovering new beaches each day and the intrinsic rhythm of waking with the sun and falling asleep under the stars.

Since we live in a landlocked mountain state, charters are our preferred means for accessing the tropical settings we crave come winter. As a family, we’ve cruised in the Bahamas, off the coast of California, and in Tonga. The BVIs was our first charter with our 6-month-old baby girl aboard.

Skip to main contentSkip to toolbar About WordPress Adventure Families 121 WordPress Update, 7 Plugin Updates, 4 Theme Updates 00 comments awaiting moderation New View Post Caching Howdy, Brianna Randall Log Out Help Screen Options WordPress 5.0.2 is available! Please update now. Edit Post Add New Please configure your Google Analytics settings! Your site is currently displaying a "Coming Soon" page. Once you are ready to launch your site click here. You need to install and activate the following plugin to use Talon as a business theme: Page Builder. The following recommended plugin is currently inactive: aThemes Toolbox. Begin installing plugin | Begin activating plugin | Dismiss this notice Dismiss this notice. In order to use the Shapely Companion plugin you have to also install the Shapely Theme Post published. View post Dismiss this notice. Keep your hard work safe. Back up your content automatically with Jetpack. ENABLE BACKUPS Enter title here The More The Merrier With Kids Aboard In The British Virgin Islands Permalink: http://adventurefamilies.org/index.php/2019/01/02/the-more-the-mer…h-virgin-islands/ ‎Edit Get Shortlink Add Media Add Form Add Contact Form VisualText Paragraph Word count: 1444 Draft saved at 8:31:43 pm. Last edited by Brianna Randall on January 2, 2019 at 8:30 pm Toggle panel: Publish Preview Changes (opens in a new window) Status: Published Edit Edit status Visibility: Public Edit Edit visibility Published on: Jan 2, 2019 @ 20:30 Edit Edit date and time Publicize: Not Connected Show Move to Trash Toggle panel: Categories All Categories Most Used Sailing Travel Abroad Uncategorized + Add New Category Toggle panel: Tags Add New Tag Separate tags with commas Choose from the most used tags Toggle panel: Featured Image Click the image to edit or update Remove featured image Toggle panel: Sharing Show sharing buttons. Thank you for creating with WordPress. Get Version 5.0.2 Close media panel Add Media Filter by typeFilter by dateSearch Media Search media items... ATTACHMENT DETAILS Saved. baby-on-a-sailboat-rob-roberts.jpg January 2, 2019 483 KB 2016 × 1134 Edit Image Delete Permanently URL http://adventurefamilies.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/baby-on-a-sailboat-rob-roberts.jpg Title baby on a sailboat - rob roberts Caption Alt Text Description ATTACHMENT DISPLAY SETTINGS Alignment Link To Size 1 selected Clear Insert into post

But you don’t have to be sailing experts to cruise through paradise. Instead of the DIY bareboat charter we prefer, many visitors choose to charter a boat that comes with either a captain or a full crew. If sails aren’t appealing, several companies offer power yachts, too.

The BVIs have one of the largest charter fleets in the world because of the islands’ easy line-of-sight navigation and the dozens of beachside restaurants, marinas and bars that welcome boaters. Most of the dozens of charter companies are based in Road Town, the main harbor on Tortola. We chose Dream Yacht Charter because we prefer to avoid the crowds: Their lovely fleet is in a small marina closer to the airport.

After our family’s charter experience last year in the Bahamas, we learned that sailing with small children is more fun if you bring along other adults and other kids as playmates. For the BVIs cruise, I invited my sister, my father and our good friends and their young son.

We met up with everyone in the BVIs outside Terrance B. Lettsome International Airport. We had opted to take the 30-minute flight from Puerto Rico rather than flying into St. Thomas and taking the ferry to Tortola, since we had found that Jet Blue and United offered affordable flights to San Juan’s Luis Muñoz Marín International airport.

As we flew over Tortola on the 12-seater prop plane, the damage from Hurricane Irma, which had hit the BVIs the previous summer, was still heartbreakingly evident. After our 10-minute taxi ride from the airport, my son and I walked around the Dream Yacht Charter base to see what the “storm wrecker,” as he called the hurricane, had wrought. Amid the sobering sights of twisted docks and windblown debris, we giggled when we spotted one run-aground yacht captained by a Halloween skeleton sporting a purple wig.

When we arrived at our shiny new catamaran on the docks, my son clapped his hands. Usually, my husband and I rent the smallest sailboat possible to keep the price down. But our bigger crew meant we had more people to share the costs. This was our first trip on a catamaran.

The extra space and smooth ride on the 40-foot Lagoon proved addictive — and definitely preferable to a cramped monohull for entertaining active kids. The boat had four double berths, two single berths and four heads (boatspeak for bedrooms and bathrooms), plus two ample sitting areas and a wide-open bow. We’d provisioned with a local grocery store ahead of time by ordering online. The store delivered the bags of food and drinks right to our boat when we arrived.

The consistent trade winds and close-together islands make the BVIs a great place for beginning boaters 2 - photo Rob Roberts

Those drinks came in handy at sunset. After splitting up to snorkel with colorful parrotfish along the rocks or build sand castles on the beach, our crew reunited on the bow for “sundowners” — gin and tonics for the adults, orange juice for the kids and a bottle of milk for the baby.

The sky turned pink, the ocean turned silver, a flock of flamingos flew west and the boys bounced on the trampoline-like netting that stretched between the catamaran’s two hulls. A perfect happy hour all around.

The next morning, after making egg-and-bacon bagel sandwiches and ensconcing the boys at the table with sticker books and the baby in a berth for her nap, we raised the sails and headed north to Anegada, the northernmost island in the country. Renowned for excellent fly-fishing and snorkeling opportunities as well as world-class lobster dinners, Anegada didn’t disappoint.

We headed ashore in our inflatable dinghy and rented a pickup truck to explore endless empty beaches. My husband cast to 10-pound bonefish near the mangroves while my dad and I swam out to see a lemon shark drifting through thousands of baitfish. Sitting barefoot at a table in the sand, we ate fresh snapper and Creole-seasoned rice at the Loblolly Beach restaurant. After lunch the boys — both big and little — played on a rope swing made from old buoys and driftwood.

Walking back to the dinghy at the end of the day, my son and I combed the beach for treasures. He pocketed an orange clam shell and a wavy chunk of coral. I found a small coconut perfect for an impromptu game of soccer.

That night, after our ritual sundowners and an easy-to-cook dinner of bratwurst, mashed potatoes and carrot sticks, he and I lay side-by-side on the bow to watch the stars come out.

“Mom, is that one Venus?” He pointed at a bright star near the waxing moon.

“I think that’s Mars. Venus is a morning star, so we can look for it when we wake up.”

I put my arm around him. He yawned, lulled quickly to sleep by the gentle rocking of the boat.

The next morning, during our three-hour sail south, we gathered around the chart to pick our next destination: a day-only mooring off uninhabited Great Dog Island to snorkel and eat lunch, then on to a protected cove on the west side of Great Camanoe for the night.

We prefer off-the-beaten-path experiences, plus with the kids aboard we weren’t interested in the BVIs’ abundant cruiser-centric nightlife. So we chose to anchor in more remote areas rather than in front of the popular tourist attractions.

Most nights, we shared a gem-colored bay with just one or two other boats. Or none at all, as was the case on our last night off Peter Island, where two turtles popped up their heads to say hello after we dropped anchor.

rainbow in virgin islands

The boys each caught a small jack with their dads’ help . . . then gasped in amazement as they watched a three-foot barracuda with a menacing underbite dart in to chomp one fish right off the hook. We nicknamed our visitor “Barry” and fed him crackers after dinner.

The last morning, my son woke me at dawn. “Mom! We forgot to look for Venus!”

I followed him outside into the warm breeze to see the distant waves tipped in gold from the rising sun. We found the Morning Star in the east, winking bright from the lavender sky.

Smiling down at my son, I thanked the heavens for a week of fair winds and the chance to cruise through paradise with my family and my friends.

When Your Toddler Meets a Crocodile

On a paddling trip with kids through Everglades National Park, the rewards are worth the risks

This story appeared here in National Parks Magazine.

Two strokes into our seven-day paddling trip through Everglades National Park in Florida, a huge snaggle-toothed crocodile slid into the black water 10 feet away from us.

“I think maybe I’m scared,” murmured Talon, our 3-year-old son. Next to our family’s canoe, his 5-year-old friend, Willow, nodded in agreement from the front of her dad’s kayak.

I knew I was scared — and not just of crocodiles. As my husband, Rob, steered us through a maze of mangroves, I kept an eye out for pythons, spiders and potential storms. My body buzzed with adrenaline.

kids in a hammock on a chickee in the everglades

We emerged from the narrow canal into Whitewater Bay, the park’s largest inland body of water. The afternoon wind picked up, and the aptly named bay filled with choppy waves that rocked our canoe. It would have been worse without our outriggers; we had attached the small plastic stabilizers, figuring they would keep a squirmy toddler from tipping the boat. Pulling the brim of my hat low against the sun and stiff breeze, I dug my paddle deeper in the murky water and cursed myself for agreeing with Rob’s suggestion that it would be “fun” to spend a week in the remote backwaters of the largest subtropical wilderness in the U.S.

In my nervousness, I barked constant commands to our son, who was perched on the cooler behind me: “Sit on your bottom!” “Hands inside the boat!” “Don’t you dare take off that life jacket!” Talon, who already had dozens of family boating expeditions under his belt, yawned in response, lulled by the warm sun.

paddling the everglades national park with kids

Rob and I were intrepid travelers before we had Talon, and we decided to integrate him into our adventures from the get-go. He’d already been backpacking, sailing, rafting and skiing in several states and a handful of countries. When my friends ask if it’s hard traveling with a tiny tot, I tell them that, for me, it’s easier than staying home and sacrificing the lifestyle I love. Though it’s certainly more complicated to bring our son along on outdoor escapades, Talon always learns and thrives during our trips. Once we’re out in the wilderness, it feels as if it’s totally worth the effort. 

Even though I was a seasoned adventure mom, the Everglades were foreign territory to me. In our home state of Montana, nothing with giant teeth lives in the water. I’d struggled mightily over whether it was wise to bring a toddler into the swamps, wavering on whether the potential risks would be worth the possible rewards.

fishing from the dock in the everglades park in florida with children

Before we launched, the kids had played with squirt guns on the dock as the adults jigsawed gear into the boats. Fresh water took up most of the space and was the limiting factor for how long we could stay out in the brackish Everglades. We had to carry one gallon per person per day — a hefty 160 pounds of water in our canoe. It was hot, so before we launched I asked the children to squirt me, too. It seemed we’d lucked out with the weather — the forecast promised sunny skies and highs in the 80s all week. Then we buckled our life jackets, wedged ourselves into the two small crafts and pushed off the dock.

Talon grabbed his small orange paddle, banging my head in his eagerness to propel the boat. I distracted him from “helping” by starting a game of “I Spy.” Because Talon preferred sitting closer to me and Rob was steering and navigating, it was my job to keep Talon both safe and entertained.

Read the whole story + tips for a trip to the Everglades >

Autumn Musings: Our Own Piles Of Leaves

When life feels heavy, going outside makes us feel light again …

Sometimes the falling leaves feel heavy, brown, smothering

adding up to all the moments I wasn’t quite enough

for me, my son, my parents, my husband, my everyone

burying possibility in a dank pile of mush.

 

But sometimes the falling leaves feel floaty, golden, freeing

each one an echo of an imperfectly grateful exhale

that becomes the laugh I least expected

forming piles of possibility in layers of fading sunlight.

 

The sun hides for months on end in these latitudes

sleet and slush the begrudged and grungy visitor

plastered in a haze across our once-bright windows

shrouding the memories of headlong hedonism.

 

I never welcome the grungy grey gracefully

but rather struggle to find the golden in the brown.

It always turns out, though, that freedom from smother

is simply the gratitude for good.

 

Open-mouthed kisses blown from wide-spread fingers

A husband sleeping on the couch to give his wife a quiet bed

Ukulele strums with mumbled half-assed harmonies

A photo book made with painstakingly perfect captions and colors.

 

Meanwhile, the leaves fall like so many stories

each one sighing through the air with its own

weight and momentum

settling into the piles that layer our lives.

‘Scanoodling’ Is Our New Favorite Water Activity

What is scanoodling?

It’s a word we made up that means dinking around in our motorized sailing canoe. Sometimes we paddle. Sometimes we sail. Sometimes we rev up the 3-horsepower motor.

The name comes from the type of canoe we bought this summer, a 16.5-foot Coleman Scanoe. It’s a flat-bottomed, aluminum-framed boat with a square back that’s durable and roomy — a cross between a skiff and a canoe.

Why we chose a scanoodle

Since we returned from our big trip across the sea, Rob and I have struggled to figure out the best boat to fit our lifestyle in Montana. As water-lovers, boats are vital for increasing our happiness factor.

We have two Alpaca Rafts, super-lightweight inflatable kayaks, which have served us well for short day trips or solo missions on rivers and wilderness lakes. But they’re too small for our family to undertake multi-day trips, and hell to paddle into the wind.

talon in snow with packrafts on clark fork river 2

I used to share a 26-foot sailboat on Flathead Lake, but gave up that share when we set sail for the South Pacific. Since then, I’ve rented sailboats from friends for a few days at a time. But we missed the freedom of going sailing whenever I wanted. Plus, a traditional sailboat makes it tough to visit new places, since you’re either locked into one marina with dock fees or you need a big truck to tow a 5,000 to 10,000-pound yacht.

We looked high and low for good options, including small trimarans that our sedan could tow. Nothing seemed quite right.

Until we came across SailboatsToGo.com. This little company makes nifty sailing packages that attach to most kayaks or canoes. The whole kit weighs under 50 pounds, and can be checked as luggage on airplanes. We were sold, especially since we’re planning to sail through Florida’s Everglades National Park this winter.

scanoe with sail rig

We bought the sailing kit before we bought our own boat, and tested it out on friends’ canoes. Then we found the Scanoe, complete with a little outboard motor, for just $800. Packing up after work one Friday, we drove to Sandpoint, bought the Scanoe, and sailed to a remote beachside campsite on Lake Pend Oreille at sunset, the water like glass under our bow.

It was a match made in heaven.

Why we love scanoodling

  • You can sail UP rivers, not just float down, which is uber-awesome.
  • When there’s good wind, you can fill your sail instead of ruin your arms.
  • And when the wind’s in your face and you can’t sail or paddle, the 3 hp outboard pushes the boat along at a good clip: ~8 mph without gear, ~5 mph fully loaded. One gallon of gas keeps us going over an hour.
  • With the pontoons and leeboards (courtesy of SailboatsToGo) and the beamy, flat-bottomed canoe design, the boat is super safe. We can walk around inside or stand up to fish, and not worry that Talon might topple overboard.
  • It’s a craft that can ply nearly any waterway in Montana. While I wouldn’t take it through Class III+ rapids or into the open ocean, the Scanoe does stay stable even when it takes on water.
  • At 80 pounds, Rob and I can easily lift the Scanoodle on top of our car with the sail rolled up under the crossbars. The pontoons, leeboards and steering oar fit handily in the trunk. (Note: We’re planning to buy a small trailer to make transport even easier.)
  • We can pack enough gear in the boat to stay out for a week and the three of us still fit comfortably.
  • You never have to worry about running aground, since it’s made to be beached.
  • Maintenance hours are negligible and dock fees are nonexistent.

sailing upriver in search of yellowstone cutthroat trout

Where we scanoodled this summer

  • Missouri River – 50 miles over 5 days
  • Lake Pend Oreille – 3 night camping trip
  • Lake Upsata – a day of snorkeling and spearfishing
  • Frenchtown Pond – where Talon caught his first fish
  • Clark Fork River – afternoon floats near Missoula
  • Cliff Lake – 2 night camping and fishing trip
  • Flathead Lake – hour-long joy rides from Big Arm campground with friends and family
  • Red Rock National Wildlife Refuge – across Upper Red Rock Lake and 2 miles up the Red Rock River
  • Blanchard Lake & Clearwater River – after-work jaunts to spearfish and snorkel

catching rainbows in cliff lake

sailing canoes access back water fishingbrianna randall fishes from the bow of the sailing canoe

Rafting Down The River (Just Like Huck Finn)

Rocks and riffles entertain our baby during a week on the John Day River in Oregon

When my dad was 17, he floated 60 miles of the Colorado River on a ping-pong table.  Along with two friends, he set off like Huck Finn into the wilderness to see what might happen.  Luckily, they tested their “raft” in the neighbors pool before setting off.  The suburban backyard didn’t have the desert winds or rapids that quickly poo-pooed their primitive rudder system, but the contraption did indeed float.  Somehow.

Steve Randall, John Castle, Bob Randall, and Brian Pike showing off their "raft" before launching on the Colorado River.
Steve Randall, John Castle, Bob Randall, and Brian Pike showing off their “raft” before launching on the Colorado River.

Fast-forward 45 years to a smaller river in Oregon, where Rob and I loaded his grandson onto a real raft for a 5-day, 70-mile float.  Even though I’ve been on dozens of river trips, rafting with a 9-month-old felt a lot like getting on a rickety ping-pong table strapped to some inner tubes: precarious.

I wasn’t scared of the Class III/IV rapid we’d cross on the John Day River.  I wasn’t scared of wildlife or weather events.  I wasn’t even scared that Talon might fall in the river.  I was terrified, however, that Mr. Wiggly-Crawly-Has-To-Stand-And-Move would scream bloody murder about being trapped in a small space.

Margi gets some time with little man while we rig the raft.
Margi gets some time with little man while we rig the raft.

Talon, like his grandfather, is an adventurer at heart.  But, unlike his grandfather, he required a LOT more gear to get down his first river.  My dad and his friends took a couple of lawn chairs to sit in, sleeping bags to huddle in, and a wooden chest bolted to the middle of the “raft” to hold food (and quite possibly beer).  Our party of roughly the same size filled a 14-foot boat to the gills.

To be fair, Talon’s gear accounted for one medium-sized dry bag.  Kipp, Rob and I, however, like having tables and guitars and comfy tents and binoculars and all sorts of other fun toys.  Plus, we brought along a 110-pound wolf/shepherd, too, which really impacted the Jenga-like raft packing system.

Just chillin' in the Alpaca packraft.
Just chillin’ in the Alpaca packraft.

Once we figured out how to rig the boat to contain the giant dog, tiny baby, three adults, and oddly-shaped gear, we were off.  Sort of.  Turns out that he John Day is awfully slow.  Low flows and up-canyon winds combined to push us backward instead of forward.

Uncle Kipper saved the day by rowing non-stop … for five days.  Meanwhile, Rob and I took turns corralling Talon in the bow, scouring the red riverside cliffs for new birds, and generally enjoying the pace of life on water.  (Thanks, Kipp.)

Talon’s highlights from his first river trip include:

  • watching a pair of peregrine falcons
  • playing with zippers in the tent
  • banging on a bucket
  • staring at riffles
  • eating rocks

His parents’ highlights from the John Day include:

  • mom sleeping in a separate tent to enjoy uninterrupted sleep
  • dad teaching Talon to give high-fives
  • not riding on a ping-pong table
  • good conversations
  • whiskey
Talon made sure that Kipp is rowing straight.
Talon made sure that Kipp rowed straight.

The rafting trip was such a success that we decided to try our luck at a second week.  We traded in the raft for the car and headed to the Oregon coast for an impromptu extended vacation — and my worst fear was realized.  The car seat always causes Talon to scream bloody murder.  Fortunately, he forgot the torture of the road as soon as we arrived at new shores, full of new rocks to taste and new waves worthy of his gaze.

Someone is as obsessed with tending the fire as his daddy.
Someone is as obsessed with tending the fire as his daddy.
Uncle Kipper serenading us before bedtime on the John Day River.
Uncle Kipper serenading us before bedtime on the John Day River.
talon and brianna randall on oregon coast - adventures in parenting
Bri and Talon enjoying the Oregon Coast.

Birding, Baby: The New Extreme Sport

Watching birds in cool places is the perfect way to get outside for mini-adventures with tots

I bet you never thought birding was hard-core.  I didn’t really, either.  But then we added a baby to the mix, and Montana decided to sprinkle in some of its famous fickle weather to make our bird-watching missions more interesting.

I’ve always liked birds.  During college in San Diego, I chose to study the nesting behavior of terns down at the estuary near Ocean Beach as my senior project.  It wasn’t much of a hardship to bike to the beach and sit around watching birds dive and swoop against a bluebird sky.  Then I moved to Montana, and lost track of my birding motivation when the shorebirds and waves were replaced with hard-to-spot, tree-dwelling passerines and cold air.

Enter Rob.  He loves counting the songbirds off our back porch, or carting out his scope to find raptors along rivers.  I started to excited about feathered flocks again, especially during the spring migration when birds seem to appear out of thin air after their tropical adventures to the south.

Birding in Choteau with hurricane-force gusts
Birding in Choteau with hurricane-force gusts of wind.

During our sailing trip last year, both Rob and I met a whole new host of birds, using them to gauge our distance from land during passages, and as a way to become familiar with each new island.  We even had a pet Christmas shearwater aboard for a few days somewhere south of the Equator and west of the Galapagos–it got confused during a squall, and hunkered down in the cockpit of Llyr to recover.

Now, birding seems like the perfect way to get outside for mini-adventures with an 8-month-old … especially when the baby in question is fortuitously named “Talon.”  First stop: Freezeout Lake along the Rocky Mountain Front, home of a massive migration of waterfowl each March.  We braved 50 mph gusts of wind and ominous (but gorgeous) skies to watch 8,000 snow geese rise off the lake.  Talon slept through it.

Rob and Bri bundled up to watch sage grouse go 'bloop.'
Rob and Bri bundled up to watch sage grouse go ‘bloop.’

Next stop in April: Bannack Ghost Town to camp and watch Greater sage-grouse strut in search of mates.  It dropped to 20 degrees F and snowed covered our little tent before we could even finish dinner.  After bundling up in parkas, hats, gloves, insulated boots, and downing thermos of coffee, we trundled to the lek before dawn and watched the male grouse dance up a storm for the uninterested hens.  Talon slept through it all.

In California, I introduced Talon to the terns that I used to study.  We pointed out pelicans and plovers, sandpipers and seagulls, all the while dodging the relentless rollerbladers who refuse to yield.  While the weather always cooperates in San Diego, the cutthroat pedestrians on the boardwalk are scarier than any gales I’ve encountered.  Talon definitely didn’t fall asleep on the boardwalk.  But he certainly wasn’t interested in some old birds when dudes were blading by in chaps (and nothing else).

San Diego's friendlier climes were a welcome change of pace from Montana's fickle spring.
San Diego’s friendlier climes were a welcome change of pace from Montana’s fickle spring.

Back on the homefront, we heard that a Great-horned owl had set up a nest nearby, hanging out with her three fledglings in a big cottonwood tree.  Making sure it was before Talon’s bedtime, we biked him down to the park and hiked along the creek to the nest.  The mama owl landed in a pine directly overhead, and proceeded to eat an entire trout in front of us while her babies watched. Talon, of course, fell asleep before the scope was set up.

Showing the baby boy baby owls in Missoula's Greenough Park.

Last weekend, we joined an Audubon field trip to the Montana Waterfowl Foundation in the Mission Valley, which rears and then releases several types of native birds to increase their dwindling numbers in the wild.  The birds that finally kept Talon awake?  A pair of prehistoric-looking sandhill cranes that squawked loud enough to keep him wide-eyed.

Next up: a five-day rafting trip on the John Day River in Oregon, which is sure to add plenty of new bird (and fish!) species to Talon’s already-impressive Life List.

Talon's ready for his next animal encounter -- with a trout.
Talon’s ready for his next animal encounter — with a trout.

Communal Parenting Makes Adventures Easier Than Going It Alone

Traveling with more families doubles the joys and splits the burdens

This story appeared in The Washington Post

The wind slammed the door into the wall as Billy rushed inside, plate in hand. “Breakfast is served,” he said, presenting eggs to my 2-year-old son with a flourish. Rainwater dripped from his clothes, and a branch crashed to the ground behind him.

I hugged Billy, relieved that I didn’t have to brave the storm to feed my toddler. It’s one of the many perks of communal living. My husband, son and I were three weeks into a month-long stint living with five other families. It was a vacation, mostly, but also an experiment. Ten adults and five children shared one kitchen, one common area and two acres of seaside land. Each family had its own bedroom.

All of the adults had met three years before while working in the South Pacific’s tourism industry, when everyone was childless and carefree. We were giddy at the idea of once again swapping stories and swilling gin-and-tonics on the beach. And at the chance to introduce the babies we’d since made, ranging from nine months to two-and-a-half years old.

Of course, chasing the tots around meant stories were interrupted, and more cocktails were spilled than swilled. Several of us, including myself and my husband, worked remotely for the month, and were more likely to run toward our laptop than into the sea.

Even though our vacation wasn’t as footloose and fancy-free as we’d envisioned, everyone agreed: living communally was the highlight.

When it rained all day, we hung out around the dining table making up ridiculous songs that had the parents laughing harder than the kids. When mosquitoes swooped in, we doled out points to whomever smacked the most dead (double points to insect-killing toddlers). We passed around toys, exchanged home remedies for heat rash and took turns cooking meals, buying groceries, or pushing tots in the tree swing.

In short, we shared everything, which doubled the joy and split the burdens.

It wasn’t my family’s first go-round with communal living. My husband and I prefer it, actually, both on vacation and in everyday life. My sister lives with us between her work trips abroad. Our neighbors know they can show up for dinner uninvited — as long as they don’t mind us doing the same. On weekends, we often go camping by a creek or rent an old cabin, inviting a half-dozen families to share time and space with us in the woods.

Why? Because communal living makes parenting easier. Here’s how:

Fewer chores. My favorite part of living with other families is not having to cook dinner every night. Or at all. Living communally means splitting the daily work, which is more efficient. Each adult picks tasks we like the most (or dislike the least), whether it’s cooking, repairs, cleaning or errands. Sure, it takes me a lot longer to do the dishes for 15 people, but it’s still a fraction of the time I’d spend if I were home alone — when I have to buy the groceries, cook the meal and do the dishes. Plus, I have a friends to chat with while scrubbing pots.

Constant entertainment. On days I’m home alone with my son, I exhaust my supply of make-believe games and “funny” poop jokes by 10 a.m., leaving both of us grasping for ways to fill time. With other parents nearby, there’s always a fresh influx of imagination to share with the kids. And parents get to play more, too. Once the kids go to bed, fellow commune dwellers often whip out a board game, blast dance music, or strum guitars around the campfire.

Sharing toys. Pooling resources saves more than money — it also exponentially increases the odds of educating and engaging your child. That book about dump trucks that you read 52 times last week? You can trade it with a friend for a story about frogs on a log, placating two kids (and their mamas) at once. Swapping books, clothes and toys also keeps packing to a minimum, which is helpful when traveling.

Learning opportunities. Parenting in a group gives both kids and adults valuable insights on new ways to do things. By watching my friends, I learn new tricks for everything from disciplining to cooking. And so does my son. On the island, he learned to share better with others, eat foreign foods, speak in an Australian accent and use the potty, thanks in large part to the many co-parents.

Built-in babysitters. At home, I get maybe 10 minutes in front of my computer before my toddler is pushing keyboard buttons. But with other parents nearby to take turns entertaining the pack of wee ones, I can work uninterrupted for hours at a time while my son explores with his buddies and another supervising adult. Plus, living communally provides the added perk of being able to sneak off for some alone time with your partner, too.

Even with all these pros, though, living communally isn’t easy. And it’s definitely not for everyone. Living hip-to-hip without walls is often messy or uncomfortable, and occasionally it is overwhelming.

People in Western cultures are used to having plenty of personal space to shield us from other families’ bad moods and dirty laundry. That’s why it’s nice to experiment with communal living during short-term situations, such as on vacation.
If you’re interested in creating your own short-term commune, here are a few ways to make the most of the experience:

Choose wisely. Pick people you like to be around. Try to factor in parenting styles to ensure you’re surrounded by like-minded families. Select your venue carefully, ensuring it’s kid-friendly, first and foremost. It often helps to find a neutral space rather than crowding into one family’s home. If you feel more comfortable indoors, find a vacation rental that’s big enough for everyone. If you like the idea of not worrying about constant clutter, try camping instead.

Be helpful. One of the fastest ways for the ideal to disintegrate is when not everyone pulls their weight. Sure, it’s flexible and chores can change each day. But the group notices who routinely jumps up after dinner to do the dishes and who drifts to the couch instead. Volunteer early and often for tasks that make your friends’ lives easier, and everyone will end up feeling good.

Be brave. Step out of your comfort zone to allow others to help you, and vice versa. Try new foods, grateful that you didn’t have to cook the meal. Let other adults take your kids on an adventure, even though it might make you nervous. Join in for charades even if you’re usually too shy for acting games.

Be flexible. Part of the benefit of communal parenting is learning how others raise their kids. But it can be confusing — for you and your kids — when discipline styles or daily routines differ. Try letting go of expectations and adapting to the more chaotic communal setting, which might mean accepting new sleeping or eating schedules. As for discipline, treat your friends’ kids as you treat your own, and trust that your co-parents will do the same.

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