I saw a meme this summer that stuck with me. It listed a whole host of activities that had not, in spite of local mandates and new guidance on social interactions, been “cancelled.” Chief among them was getting outside.
Our family tends to take that to heart regardless, even when we’re not being told it’s the only “safe” kind of activity. Two years back, I joined the 1000 Hours Outside Challenge, and we buried it not in 365 days, but in 224. Even I was a little surprised at that, I’ll be honest. But, living as we do in such a moderate climate, and owning just enough property to offer a diverse range of adventures right here at home, well… we get out. Often.
But yes, 2020 had the makings of a somewhat claustrophobic year back when everything was on Zoom and the surreal reigned supreme. Casting around for something normal, and fun, and healthy, we decided to branch out and be better tourists in our own region, finally exploring more purposefully the trails and parks that surround us.
Saturday Hikes With Dad was born.
True to the name, these are Saturday Hikes With Dad. Momma does not come. There are a couple of reasons for that. First is that I am pregnant and my husband hoped that these little windows of time on the weekend would offer me a stretch of rest that would serve me better than a hike. (He’s a saint, I tell you.) Second is that he also likes a good scramble in his hikes, and I am not a fan of picking my way up rocks whilst navigating an incline. And third is that frankly, a hike with Dad is a unique, singular experience untouched by the little civilities upon which Momma would insist. Christopher loves hiking. He is passionate about God’s creation, and revels in getting out in it in a much more raw way than his wife some people might find comfortable. He is not a softie who carries bottles and bottles of extra water just in case. He will not let you back down just because an obstacle seems too big. And he will most certainly encourage you to get as close as you can to that ledge for that view, because what’s the point of an adventure if you don’t grab onto it with both hands and live it fully?
Some weeks have been simple walks on miles of suburban greenway. Others have been hard hauls up switchbacks that have resulted in a five year-old nodding off into his supper that night. All have been educational, whether from an historical or natural perspective. And every one has made memories… and bound these kids even more tightly, if that’s possible, to their father, his excitement for the outdoors, and this place they will look back on as home when they’ve moved on into adulthood.
It’s been a simple thing. No monetary investment outside of some better footwear for the toughest climbs, no planning save matching the weather to the terrain of the day. The kids start asking where they might be headed days before, and some hikes have been earmarked as favorites. Christopher has already led them on some repeated journeys so that they can all experience the differing seasons on the same trail. It’s not a big, extravagant adventure, not a vacation. Everything has been within an hour’s drive. But somehow I think that makes it even better. Saturday Hikes With Dad are now an expected part of the rhythm of life. They are normative. In a year that has often felt anything but, that’s both refreshing and lifegiving for us all.
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