From the archives: Making Memories

Resharing "Making memories - a father-son backpacking trip in the wilderness"

First published March 16th, 2022

Even the difficult parts were worth it. I think the joy came from seeing his excitement around every turn. That, and his ability to persevere, even when the going got tough. I was proud and happy (and sometimes scared) as we navigated the challenging trail deep into the high-desert mountains of Southern California. There, we set up camp - and made memories.

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My son loves camping and is always willing to go into the outdoors. His mom has done a wonderful job fostering this through her homeschooling in nature program that she runs. He's knowledgeable about plants, animals, and terrain. And he's adept at scurrying around narrow trails and boulders. I, too, have done my part, taking him on many outdoor adventures in his short nine years with us.

Honestly, we've been camping with him since he was born. Correction: since before he was born. His mom and I took a trip to the mountains the week before she went into labor! Anyway, he's a nature fanatic like his parents and loves to rough it out under the stars. 

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Now that he's older and a bit more physically and mentally capable, we began preparing to take him backpacking. For Christmas, he received his first backpack (the trekking kind, not the school kind). And after a couple more months of consideration and gear acquisition, I decided the time was right to give the ol' pack-it-in trip a go.

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He and I ended up going to Anza Borrego Desert State Park where we selected an eight-mile roundtrip out-and-back to summit a peak. The trail, considered a "moderately challenging route," snakes through desert scrub before ascending to the top of boulder-strewn Wilson Peak (4573 ft) around mile four. The plan was to camp there with expectations of an incredible starry sky and views of the sprawling Anza Borrego desert below.

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Even with the best planning, there were challenges, as you can imagine. The greatest one was that I had filled his pack a bit too much. The weight slowed us down considerably as it was hard for him to remain comfortable. He toughed it out, though, by taking a lot of breaks along the way. And after about four hours, we reached the base of Wilson Peak.

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Once there, we shed our packs, drank a bit of water, and then scrambled our way the last bit to the summit. It was spectacular, as expected. We could see for miles from atop the highest boulder on the peak. The view couldn't compare to the sight of my son's face, though; the enthusiasm in his eyes beamed brighter than the setting sun. 

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Not long after, we selected a nice spot to camp and went about setting up the tent and organizing our gear for the night ahead. He helped with everything, from pitching the tent to blowing up our sleeping pads to arranging our cooking supplies for the much-anticipated evening's meal. The "help" inadvertently slowed the process, of course; learning takes time. But slowing down is something I need.

Too often, I methodically plow through the chores of setting up camp. I've done so many times that I rarely think about all it takes. But in this instance, with a reasonable pace and a mind towards teaching, I gained a renewed sense of appreciation for the job. It takes understanding and skill and I was honored to pass these along to my son.

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The meal I mentioned was indeed one of the highlights.

Lately, we have been watching various camping, backpacking, and "bushcraft" shows on YouTube. In the latter - bushcraft - heavily beaded men, often speaking little if at all, trek into the wilderness, make camp with muscle and ax, and then prepare lavish meat-laden meals over an open fire. It's romantic if you're into the whole Jack London-esque adventure in the outdoors (like we are). So in this vein, we decided to take a steak along on our trip and cook it as the mountain men do. 

Side note: My friend Shaun, a master cook and fellow outdoors enthusiast, once shared the secret to a good steak: a quality cut, preferably ribeye with a generous coating of salt, cooked to medium-rare over an open wood fire. No special marinade. No complex rubs or herbed oil. Not even pepper. Meat+salt+fire - that's it. 

And that's precisely what we did. 

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It was unbelievable - the best steak I’ve ever had. I'm not speaking in hyperbole; it was quite literally the best steak I have ever enjoyed. And my son agreed. 

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We had the meat with mac-and-cheese (the freeze-dried camping kind). Granted, this stuff isn't the best. But it didn't matter. The combination was somehow perfect in all its contradictions.

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As the evening waned, we cuddled in our sleeping bags, watching the fire while enjoying the stellar show above. Like a lullaby or swaying hammock, the dancing flames and twinkling stars lulled us into a dreamy calm. Sleep was creeping in. And it wasn’t long before gentle snores complemented the crackling embers in an otherwise silent night.

My son had fallen asleep by the fire underneath the night sky. 

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I lingered a while longer, stoking the embers a bit before scooping my son up and placing him inside the tent. It was only then that I realized how cold it had become. After quickly tidying up the camp, I joined him inside. There we were snug and warm. And despite the wind picking up and rocking the tent all night, we both slept well. 

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As the sun rose, so too did my son, chipper and eager to start the day. He's usually a slow start in the morning, but not this day. Climbing into his boots, he exclaimed, "I love camping!" 

I couldn't agree more. 

After fully packing, and ensuring we left no trace of our stay, we set out. I lightened his load substantially this time and it made all the difference. With a steady pace and warm feelings in our hearts, the hike was a pleasure - and greatly accelerated. It took us half the time to walk out as it did to trek in.

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Back at the car, we quickly loaded up and made our way home. Laughing along the way, we recounted stories of the trip and plotted future excursions into the wilderness. Next time we'd distribute the weight a little better. And maybe we’d go for two nights, or three. And we'd find a way to make better pack pillows (one of his few complaints).

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There will undoubtedly be many more trips soon, and I frankly can't wait. Neither can he. Backpacking is such a fantastic way to connect with ourselves, those we treasure, and the world around us: fresh air, plants & animals, fire, shelter, food, family - unforgettable experiences. 

In these moments, while outside taking in the wonder of nature, joy comes at us from many angles. It’s living as living should be - together doing something both difficult and fun, challenging and easy-going, draining and rewarding.

Backpacking makes memories.

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Until next time.

JRC