Last spring, I was in shape. Relative “shape” for my ever increasing “dad bod” but still, I was in decent hiking shape at least. That’s because Emerson was just over a year old, and she loved being in this Osprey hiking backpack I’d throw her in. She settled in the pack nicely and would even take a pleasant nap if it was time. I would hitch her up Mount Tabor twice a week and walk the half mile of steep stairs to the top, down the other side, and would then wind my way back up the wooded trails and lampposts and back down the other side again for a two-mile walk/mini hike.
Mount Tabor is a small volcano right in the heart of Portland and I was using it as training/conditioning to hopefully hike some other PNW volcanoes in the summer—like Mount St. Helens and Mt. Adams, maybe Mount Hood. Mount Hood was a little more technical though and there were a lot of deaths on it from inexperienced climbers, so I wasn’t quite prepared to tackle that summit, even thought my younger brother, Toby, had climbed it twice.
Anyways, Emerson and I, in the spring of 2022, hiked a ton. We hiked Mount Tabor, Angel’s Landing, King Mountain, Forest Park, and on. I got in good enough shape to attempt a Mt. St. Helens Climb with Toby in May when most of the mountains was still covered in snow. We snowshoed and cramponed up most of the mountain until the last headwall but didn’t make the summit. I was exhausted. Every step in the slushy spring snow felt like two. One step up, two back. We were post holing up the last mile and I was just done. But even though we didn’t summit, I hiked 10 or so miles with 5,000 feet of vertical in the snow and I felt proud of myself.
The conditioning eventually came in handy however, because while camping with Cat’s cousins in Yosemite, I was able to summit the Half Dome. It was hands down the hardest hike I’ve ever done. 17 miles and nearly 4,000 feet of elevation gain topped out with the infamous “cables” which are these like wooden 2x4’ bolted into the ground and some steel cables that help you climb the last 500 feet ( at 46 degrees) of sheer rock to the top of Half Dome. It takes a fair amount of arm strength (and courage) to make it up and back down. You need rubber gloves and strong calves. People do and have died.
All that to say, this Spring, 2023, I feel in the worst shape of my life. I don’t mean to blame the toddler, but a big part of that is that instead of hiking I am mostly watching the toddler walk. An hour hike on Mount Tabor is now reduced to an hour hike around the block as she stops to smell every flower and jump over every crack in the sidewalk. Just taking her sister to preschool takes twenty minutes from the parking lot to the building as she insists on walking/balancing on every curb/parking stop she comes across. She hates the backpack now. Refuses it. She likes going on “hikes” but will insist I carry her for most of the way. Just a regular carry, arm around the bum, sort of carry, not like, on-the-shoulders-carry.
I wanted to try some summits this year, but there was just no way. Just the time to train and condition has been out of the question. Steep hikes over multiple miles take a full day. When I’m already working one weekend day, it just doesn’t feel right for our family for me to be gone the other day alone. Maybe when she’s three I can get back out there. Get back in shape. Or maybe I should get back on the bike.
The summer hasn’t been all lost, however. We went camping at Beverly Beach on the Oregon Coast, camped in the Grand Tetons in Wyoming for four days and this last weekend I took Evangeline on her first ever backpacking trip. Two old PSU college friends/housemates of mine (Brandon and Luke) invited me to join their annual father/daughter backpacking trip. It’s not an intense backpacking trip by any means. It started with them just hiking in a mile somewhere to camp and then hike back out the next morning. This year we hiked two miles along the Lewis River Trail in Washington where we set up camp along the river Evangeline did great (prodded and bribed by an assortment of fruit snacks, energy bars, trail mix, chocolate chips, and skittles).
“Whatever helps make this a positive first experience,” as Luke said.
Evangeline held her own well and was very positive overall on her first backpacking trip. While I still have dreams of summiting mountains and going on longer trips, just to be outside, with good company, was by far enough. I want to be in shape—physically and mentally—but more than anything, I just want to be healthy and happy, even if my shape is a bit lumpier than I’d like. I’m hoping as the kids get older I’ll have more energy to get back out there, the mental fortitude to say no to that last slice of pizza, the crisp bottle of white wine in my fridge on a hot day, who knows, maybe I’ll even start waking up early and running again. But I’m not counting on it anytime soon.
My sister in law is frequently a camp host at Beverly Beach. While you might not be getting the workout you did, you are instilling confidence, curiosity and wonder if the natural world to your daughters. Life is long, we can’t do everything at the same time, but we can get to what matters. My hope for you is more than resignation to the inevitable . . . It’s appreciation for your self. Pat yourself on the back every now and then. Kids are not going to do it.