The year our kids outhiked us

When I began writing this column 10 years ago, I was carrying around babies on my back while trying to get out into the woods, though more often we were at the grocery store or the playground. But this fall I watched my kids, carrying their own supplies, walk off into the woods on their own, leaving me behind.

My husband Jim, kids and I were on a backpacking trip in the Adirondacks, aiming to climb four mountains over two days. My 14-year-old suggested it, and we were happy to shift our fall camping trip northward and do something more challenging. He helped me plan the routes and we looked at two- and three-day options (while he frequently reminded us that a guy he knew did it all in one day!).

Planning, however, is a pretty little exercise in hope. The week of our trip, a nor’easter started moving in, and we had to modify our three-day trip to two longer days. On day one, we started at dawn, hiked in four mostly flat miles and set up camp. The tents were up by 9:30 a.m., and after a rest we got back on the trail to Colvin and Blake mountains. These were rumored to be difficult, but it was not a lot of miles — six miles out and back.

It’s true it was only six miles, but it was strenuous beyond description: 20 to 30 percent grades regularly had us scaling rock faces, with occasional ladders when it got past 40 degrees. We hiked over 3,000 feet of elevation gain, and the descents were often as difficult as the ascents.

The kids would wait for us old folks to catch up every mile or so, but halfway back, we told them over the walkie-talkies that they shouldn’t wait for us and could continue back to camp (and snacks). Jim and I were just going to need to take our time. We made it to camp about 10 minutes after we had turned on our headlamps.

Over dinner, we discussed the next days’ plans. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hike two more mountains and our four-mile pack out, and Jim agreed that his ankles were protesting our plans.

We gave the kids options, and they decided to do it themselves. I wasn’t sorry to hang around camp and drink hot chocolate while they hiked 10 miles. My brain was able to come up with all sorts of scary things that could go wrong, but I trusted that they had enough experience, fitness and common sense to navigate the day.

When they radioed us from the top of their second mountain, I was sad to miss out on their achievement, but also felt like it was a special achievement because I missed out on it.

They returned to a packed-up camp after lunch, and we all hiked out together. I was feeling misty eyed the whole way — and my aching feet were only half the reason.