Category: Camping

Camping, Hiking

Backpacking with kids is worth the whining

5 reasons to spend a weekend in the wilderness with your children

Photos (C) Rob Roberts

“You sure have a high misery tolerance,” my friend Linsey remarks cheerfully, as she passes us on the trail. I gaze after her wistfully, coveting her easy pace as Talon screams and writhes in the pack on my back.

It’s a Friday evening in mid-July, and we’re hiking straight up the Swan Mountains to camp near some backcountry lakes for the weekend. Even though it’s mid-July, the temperature is plummeting toward freezing, and the threatening grey clouds and howling wind aren’t helping my frame of mind. Quite possibly nothing would help my frame of mind, though, since bringing a baby on a backpacking trip does indeed entail a certain level of misery.

On Trail - Rocky Mountain Front
Rob and Talon check out the view in Blackleaf Canyon on the Rocky Mountain Front.

Every time Rob and I start down a trail–with Talon on my back, and 50 pounds of camping gear on his–I vow within five minutes to never do it again. Somehow, we do it the next weekend anyway. Are we gluttons for punishment? Obviously.

We stubbornly refuse to acknowledge that our lives might not be as adventurous as before. But the real reason we keep hitting the trails, misery and all, is because by the end of the weekend in the woods, we’re both glad we got out in the wilderness.

Talon loves putting up the tent, since the poles are shiny.
Talon loves putting up the tent, since the poles are shiny.

Backpacking with a baby is hard. First there’s the whining, and kicking, and hair-pulling. Then there’s the poopy diapers–do you haul the dirty ones out? Use cloth diapers and bury the poo? (It’s a lose-lose situation either way.) Once you get to camp, it’s only slightly easier. You have to manage the wee babe for sunburn and bugs, and constantly corral him from crawling off boulders or tottering into the cook stove.

The hardest part, though, is actually the non-stop, nagging voice in my head: “This used to be fun. What if backpacking is never fun again? What if life is never fun again?” Single-track trail often breeds existential crisis–or at least walking alone for long periods adds fuel to the fire. I find, though, that if I walk for long enough, my footsteps eventually: 1) rock Talon to sleep, and 2) bring my thoughts (now influenced by the peaceful quiet of a sleeping baby) full circle to: “Life is awesome, and backpacking is the bomb.”

Picking huckleberries during a break on the trail in the Swan Mountains.
Picking huckleberries during a break on the trail in the Swan Mountains.

This cycle of misery and joy repeats more often, and with bigger peaks and valleys, than a typical day at home. Playing in the tent with a giggling baby is exhilarating; taking the 87th rock out of Talon’s mouth is exhausting. Catching a trout in the lake is a triumph; trying to cook it while Talon tips toward the flames is terrifying.

We’ve taken three backpacking trips with Talon this summer to three different mountain ranges in Montana. All in all, the impetus for our continued expeditions boils down to the fact that we love immersing ourselves in the wilderness, and enjoy introducing Talon to the magic of lakes, peaks, and trails, too.

A tight two-man tent with all three of us is hours of fun for Talon and redefines "snuggling" at night.
A tight two-man tent with all three of us is hours of fun for Talon and redefines “snuggling” at night.

Here’s why I think it’s worth packing a baby into the woods:

1. You’ll have stories to tell. Regale your friends and family with exaggerated tales of your exploits and mis-adventures in the woods: “And then Talon took a header down the talus field toward the lake! But we caught him before that hawk swooped down to try and grab him.” They’ll think you’re insane, of course, but that’s half the fun.

2. Car camping becomes a walk in the park. Pitching a tent without having to carry it and your kid uphill several miles feels liberating. Plus, you can bring beer, games, and a big roomy tent instead of the two-man-that’s-really-a-one-man setup (which puts new meaning into the word “snuggle”).

3. It makes your home seem like a dream come true. Returning to the house lends a new appreciation for luxuries like running water, cribs, chairs, and countertops above your baby’s reach. The rooms that might have felt claustrophobic all week before your trip suddenly seem like lovely, comfy, safe zones for you and babe.

4. You get alone time surrounded by beauty. Once the baby falls asleep on your back (or switches to your partner’s back), the quiet reverberates ten-fold in the absence of his babble. The leaves look sharper, the air feels crisper, the peaks seem closer. You can breathe more deeply and think more clearly than ever before.

5. It builds endurance. Backpacking with a baby is a physical and mental strength-training exercise. Your muscle tone will improve, as will your reservoir of patience. As your tolerance for misery increases, so does your capacity for joy.

So, there you have it. Let me know how it goes if you brave the trail with a wee one on your back

Camping, Paddling, Water

What to Do When Family Adventures Don’t Go as Planned

This excerpt is from a post published by OARS, a rafting & adventure travel company. Check ’em out!

Photo above courtesy of OARS.com

By Brianna Randall

Ever been peed on by your toddler while running a Class IV rapid? Or perhaps you’ve had to clean your son’s vomit off the gear just before the start of a long-awaited family vacation to a national park, and then woke up to everyone puking near the tent later that night. Or maybe you once drove four hours to meet family friends for a three-day paddling trip then realized that you forgot everyone’s sleeping bags … and the kids’ PFDs.

I, unfortunately, get to check “yes” to all of the above. My husband and I explore outside with our young children almost every weekend, but our family adventures don’t go as planned 99% of the time.

Sometimes that means we endure inconvenient or uncomfortable situations (par for the course most days as a parent, whether you’re adventuring outside or not). But other times meeting our kids’ needs means that we stumble upon a spectacular hot spring when we have to switch rafting itineraries, or that we get to swim with dolphins because we stopped kayaking (again) for snacks to avoid a meltdown.

Getting into nature with young children can be challenging, to say the least. Many parents may feel overwhelmed by the logistics or perceived risks of venturing outside with their children.

But the benefits are worth the hassle. Research shows that being in nature relieves stress, increases creativity, and encourages kindness and generosity.

Whether rafting, walking, birdwatching or camping, outdoor adventures support emotional and physical well-being for the whole family. Exploring outside draws kids away from screens, and helps them connect with people and the world around them. Plus, working as a team during family outings helps kids problem-solve and learn new skills.

Convinced of the pros for braving outdoor activities with your family? Read these tips on how to tackle challenges during family adventures with kids!

Camping

Birthday Eve | Silver Streaks and Strawberries

It’s the day before my 39th birthday, and I have 18 minutes before the babysitter leaves. I forgot the laptop in my haste to get to may meeting on time (and also to comb my hair), so I borrow old menus and a pen from the coffee shop waiter.

The sun is warm and the sidewalk bustles with sundress-clad women, bare legs still pale after a cold spring. I ask for strawberries on my salad, settle under a red umbrella, then scribble down year-end thoughts on the back of “Today’s Soup Specials”:

  • This last decade started with just me + a handful of houseplants, and ended with me + a husband + 2 kids + 3 old cars + 2 even older boats + a mortgage + a garage full of adventure gear I love + closets full of crap I don’t need. That’s a lot of addition.
  • This is the decade when I became an adult: a woman who learns to balance all sorts of awkward-shaped bundles with not enough arms while sometimes wobbling, sometimes sauntering, sometimes sprinting between people and places, most of whom I love but some of whom I don’t (like the grocery store…I hate the grocery store).

I sip my coffee, heavy on the honey, and reflect on what I’m grateful for:

  • A son who knows the name of every wildflower we pass on hikes, and who makes me stop at each poppy and peony to smell the “beautifuls”. His sticky kisses and big brown eyes.
  • A daughter who plops down in icy mud to splash in the creek, giggling at the goo between her fingers. Those dimpled fingers reaching up to grasp mine.
  • A husband who fixes the holes in the 45-year-old sailboat I persuade him to buy, who pulls the ticks off our scalps without flinching, and who cooks us dinner (and usually breakfast, too).
  • A brave sister who always says yes to adventures, who holds my babies as close as I do, and who buys me expensive whisky for my birthday.
  • Parents who taught me to try my hardest and love me still when I try the least, and who still go camping so they can sleep next to rushing rivers.
  • Girlfriends who gather on porches and in cabins and on trails and around meals to heal and hold each other through each season.
  • My body, my mind, my smiles lines and grey streak (hell, let’s call it “silver”), which all serve to keep me upright and centered amidst the pull of gravity.

And now I only have 2 minutes left before my alone time is up—never enough time (or sleep) during these longest shortest days with toddlers—so I box my sandwich, down the espresso, and pedal fast on my pink bike with these handwritten words folded inside its rickety rear milk-crate.

As I bike home, I list what we need for the impromptu camp-out tonight with the kids and my sister—a birthday-eve bash on the banks of the Blackfoot River among the pines and willows, camas and cutthroat, where I will dunk naked in the cold mountain water to baptize anew, a new woman still at 39, figuring it all out as the water flows past.

Camping

Why (And How!) To Camp With A Wall Tent

The Crux Move In Utah’s San Rafael Swell

I’d been expecting to be scared at some point during our family’s spring trek to Utah’s San Rafael Swell. But I’d thought the fear would bubble up while I was rappelling into thin air over rock walls. Or, even more likely, while watching four-year-old Talon take his own turn defying gravity.

But it turns out that our crux move arrived before we even got out the climbing gear.

“We’re never gonna make it,” Rob said for the third time in as many minutes. I gripped the handle above my door as we jounced through a creek bottom.

We were driving over snowy mud. Sliding over it, more accurately. The road into the San Rafael Swell, a national recreation area managed by BLM, was slick as shit.

“Let’s turn around now,” I urged. “We still have enough daylight to find a different campsite.”

I was worried that even if we magically made the remaining 20 miles of this windy 30-mile road, the spot we planned to camp for a week would also be covered in snow.

We’d chosen the remote campsite by looking at Google Earth, since neither of us had ever visited the Swell. It looked perfect from satellite images: the public land at the end of the road abutted Muddy Creek Wilderness Area and several mountain biking and hiking trails.

The plan was to set up our nifty canvas wall tent, complete with its miniature wood-fired stove, settle in and explore different canyons each day. Talon and I had been practicing climbing and rappelling at home by using a series of bolts Rob had drilled into the ceiling (a fun winter activity when it was too cold to go outside). I was eager to use our skills on real rock—but not at the price of totaling our truck en route.

We fishtailed again, swerving toward the edge.

The baby cried louder, voicing her displeasure at being restrained in a car seat for two days straight. I tried offering her a pacifier. She threw it at me.

“Mom, can I please get out? It’s boring back here!” Talon whined.

We pulled over at the next crossroads, ready to turn back. My sister and her boyfriend pulled up behind us, still in good spirits (maybe because they didn’t have crying kids in tow?).

“We should keep going! I bet that was the worst of it,” she reasoned, pointing at the map.

With her encouragement and the kids happier after the pit stop, we decided to continue on. Thank goodness we did: it was smooth sailing after we descended from the high-desert plateau.

We let Talon and Lyra sit up front with us for the last few miles. They put their heads out my window, giggling at the breeze on their face.

The road ended at Muddy Creek, framed by soaring canyon walls painted in rainbows of red. We all smiled in glee as we took in the 360-degree view of wilderness, which we had all to ourselves.

“We get to stay here for six whole nights!” Talon said, jumping in excitement. “Dad, can you get my bike off first?”

He pedaled circles around us as we started setting up the wall tent. I cracked a beer, lifting my face to the spring sun as I saluted Rob.

“Cheers to persevering.”

Why We Love Camping With A Wall Tent

Two years ago, we bought a 10×14′ canvas wall tent from Big Sky Canvas, a local manufacturer in Montana.  We usually use it for camping in the spring and fall.

In the summer, we set it up in our backyard, where the wall tent serves as a guest abode for visitors, a handy kids’ fort, and a lovely little yoga studio. Here’s why it’s a great family adventure tool:

  • More space! You can walk around, cook, and get dressed without hunching over. It’s easy to hang up coats and other gear, and to keep the kids’ toys and clothes organized and out of the way.
  • Comfy beds! We bought two collapsible cots from Cabela’s that make excellent couches, too. With a sleeping pad on top, I sleep better than on my bed at home. The kids sleep on the ground on thick foam pads, snug as bugs in their sleeping bags.
  • Warm and cozy! The tiny, portable wood stove (we bought this Camp Chef at Cabela’s for $250) is SO awesome in the morning when it’s chilly, heating the tent up fast while we sip coffee. And evenings are extra cozy, as we read and play cards by the light of the lanterns.
  • Safe from the elements! It’s a luxury to chill in the shady tent after a long day in the sun, lounging in camp chairs to read or snack. Or to escape a rainstorm in comfort. The canvas withstands wind, rain, and snow much better than small nylon tents. The screens on the doors and windows keep out any bugs and most of the dust, too.

Best Times To Use One

  • During the spring, fall or winter: camping can be chilly during these shoulder seasons, when weather may be inclement and the nights are longer.
  • On camping trips where you plan to stay in one place for more than 3 nights: this makes it worth the added set-up and take-down time.
  • With a baby or toddler: the big tent provides a safe “play pen” to contain little tots, as well as a much more convenient place to change diapers and put them down for naps.
  • If any team members have an injury or disability: it’s easier to enter and exit the big door on the wall tent rather than crawling through a small flap, and the sleeping cots are easier to get off and on, too, compared to sleeping on the ground.

Tips & Advice

  • The more hands, the better. With just Rob and me, it takes about 90 minutes to fully set up our tent (including all the the interior “decor”, like kitchen, beds, tables, and wood stove. But it goes twice as fast if you have more people on hand! Kids can help by holding the frame in place, fitting poles together to build the sides and rafters, or simply sorting different-sized poles into piles.
  • Bring hooks, shelves, and organizing options. Even a few extra crates or boxes help keep the clutter to a minimum while living in a tiny house. Hooks are awesome for keeping hats, sunglasses, and jackets off the floor (and out of the dirt!).
  • Make a floor. Bring a big tarp or two, as well as any spare mats or a cheap rug to cover the dirt and gravel. We bought an 8×10-foot outdoor carpet at Lowe’s for $20 that works well.
  • Pack extra tables. We have a card table, a roll-up river table, and a lightweight folding camping table—and we always wish we had a couple more elevated spaces to store all the knick-knacks that accumulate during our camping trips.
  • Stock lots of metal stakes. We’ve been caught in big winds (especially in the Utah desert) several times, and it’s important to have plenty of stakes to tie down the wall tent’s sides. If it’s windy while you’re putting up and taking down the tent, consider staking two corners temporarily as you drape it over the poles, so the big canvas doesn’t sail away!

Camping, Hiking, Outdoor Adventures

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.

Camping, Hiking, Paddling, Water

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 >

Camping, Paddling, Water

‘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

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...