1 Mother 2 Another

When my husband and I go on vacation
someplace gorgeous, we love to be outdoors. We’ll explore
national parks and pull over at scenic vistas and climb through
tunnels and traipse up to see cliff dwellings – love it. And
if we’re in Hawaii, our two favorite things to do are hanging
out at the beach, and taking long hikes. Pre-kids, we’d do
8-11 mile hikes in a day, then collapse for a couple hours on the
beach to clean up and cool down. Heavenly.


Now, we knew going back to Hawaii with kids would be different, and
it was. We knew we wouldn’t be able to do our
4,000-feet-in-the-air, clinging-to-a-cliff’s-edge, 11-mile
hike. We knew that. But we also wanted to expose the girls to
hiking, and see if we could give them a taste of it so they’d
love it as much as we do. So we picked out a few of our favorite
hikes, ones with really spectacular, one-of-a-kind views very
shortly into the hike, and prepared the girls. We grabbed walking
sticks, water bottles, hats, and sunscreen, and headed out.


The verdict?


Happy Hikers, the Next Generation.

At the start we told Cora, the smallest at
a new five, that we’d turn around whenever she said the word.
For the first hike, we had a goal of one mile: a quarter of a mile
into the hike revealed an amazing, Jurassic Park-like view, but a
mile in you found yourself at the edge of the world’s highest
swamp. We wanted her to see that. So we set out, everyone excited.


I forgot that what seems like a mildly strenuous hike to a
twenty-something will feel like Mt. Everest to a five-year-old.


The mountains are almost always drizzly, and our red-dirt path was
slick mud instead. Add to that a reasonably steep incline, and Cora
slipped and fell four times. She’d ask to stop and rest, to
take a drink from her water bottle, and then she’d shoulder
her water bag, grab her walking stick, square her hat, and say,
“Let’s get going” as she marched off. For about
half the time that first hike, Cora needed Daddy’s hand, and
indeed he caught her from many other spills. At a few spots, she
was nearly vertically climbing on all fours. But we went on.


And as for Maddie? If I squinted, I could see her. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaay
in the distance. In front of us.


That kid – that kid is in love with hiking. I could see
she’s got the same bug that I have. Brian does not, by
nature, enjoy the act of hiking itself; for him, it’s being
in a gorgeous place, and the payoff of a fantastic view at the end
of it. For me, I’m always eager to get around the next
corner, get over the next hump, press on, and see what’s
coming. We both love hiking, just a bit differently.


And Maddie, she’s my girl in that area.


Maddie would go as far ahead of us as she could, my normally
OCD-clean daughter happily covered in mud, and then tap her foot
impatiently as she waited for us to catch up to her, the rest of us
going at Cora’s pace. Finally I agreed to go ahead with
Maddie – and let’s be frank, it’s partly just
because I love pressing forward as well.


We didn’t quite hit the one-mile marker: we came up against a
nasty stretch of muddy rocks that was simply impassable to Cora. I
knew, though, from the other times I’d hiked the trail that
the one-mile marker was right around the corner, so I told Cora,
who finally consented to go back – as long as we were
“right near” the one-mile marker. Returning to the car
we passed other hikers setting out, who asked what the trail was
like that day and how far we’d gone. Brian and I chatted
pleasantly with them, giving them what intel we had, and both girls
noticed that hikers are very kind and helpful towards each other.
Just after we turned around the drizzle turned to earnest rain, and
our brave girls hiked almost the whole way back in a rather
uncomfortable rain, soaked to the skin and chilly in the mountain
air. Back at the car, Cora couldn’t keep a grin off her face
as she crowed, “I walked TWO MILES! TWO MILES! That’s
like ten miles in grown-up steps!”


Our second hike was even more strenuous, and we set a modest goal
of a half a mile. We knew that was an amazing scenic stop, and
hoped just to get our girls to that spot. Now, when I say
strenuous, I mean that the hike started at sea level at the beach,
and a half a mile away we were at over 2,500 feet up. So it was a
pretty darn steep ascent, pretty darn fast. Lots of boulder
crawling, lots of four-legged hiking up a tricky stretch. A few
times I heard Cora say to herself, as comfort, “We turn
around as soon as I say so.”


But she kept going.


And once again, both girls were jubilant when we reached our goal.
Maddie led as much as we’d let her, and quickly fell into
hiking guide extraordinaire: “Cora, place your stick right
here for this tricky step down –it’s the perfect spot
for it. Now Cora, as we go down this difficult part, be sure
you’re walking sideways so you don’t slip as much.
Look, Cora, place your feet in these little niches carved out by
the water.”


And so on.


And as we went back down, we once again filled in new hikers who
were eager for news of trail conditions. And since Brian and I had
done more of the hike in years passed, we told them how far
we’d gone, what to expect coming up, and what sort of time
lengths each stretch would take.


Every day on vacation the girls begged to hike, and Brian and I had
to put our parental foot down, be stern, and say, “Listen,
girls, we’re going to the beach now, and no
complaining!”


Yeah, who has to say that? Apparently, we do.


The final hike of our vacation was a cake walk by comparison: a
one-and-a-half mile walk to a lovely waterfall. Less of a hike and
more of a stroll, we saw very few backpacks and about a half-dozen
tourists out looking for a quick glimpse of a waterfall –
slightly underestimating how far they’d have to walk. In all
the path was easy: a few hilly spots, but much of it steady path
walking, and we reached our destination with relative ease. As we
walked along we played word games to pass the time, and I have to
tell you, my heart about busted out of my chest with happiness. My
family! With me! In paradise! Hiking and loving it!


As we walked back, completing a total of three miles, we let Cora
take the lead. We crossed another casual day-tripper, out to see
the beautiful waterfall, and Cora nodded confidently at her.
“It’s a beautiful day today, and the path looks good,
and I made it the whole way to the end!” Cora said cheerfully
to the woman who, to be honest, had not asked Cora anything.
Nonetheless, the stranger smiled and responded, “Wow, way to
go! Thanks for the info!” and passed us by.


Cora looked back at me, smiled happily, and said, “I’m
an expert hiker.”


Yes you are, baby, yes you are.