Bob Marshall Round Two

As if we thought taking one kid into the Bob Marshall Wilderness for a week wasn’t enough, this past summer we decided to do it with both groms. We set off with ambition, still riding the high from the trip with took with Noah. We wanted to complete a large loop which included summiting Scapegoat mountain. We decided to go in the north Fork of the Dearborn in late August.

We had an alpine start of 11am the first day. Because nothing says we’ve got it together like setting off at lunch. We confidently walked past groups at the campsite, realizing how much of a scene we must look like. I’m sure people had no idea what we were intending to do with 2 kids in the backcountry. With Lou in the backpack and Noah riding Jazz with Josh, we started our adventure.

Albeit, a bit of a longer first day than we had planned, we got to our campsite without incident. We set up camp, had a fire, put the kids to bed and enjoyed our first night in the wilderness. The silence enveloping us. Sinking into the quiet comfort without technology and noise for the next week. We made a plan for the next day and were excited at the thought of traipsing deeper into the Bob Marshall. We woke to a snowstorm and gail force winds, botching our plans to continue hiking. It would be certifiably insane to carry our children through rain, sleet, wind and snow. If it was just us, that would be one thing. However, having the tiny humans is the perfect excuse to bail on things I don’t want to do (like walk through sleet and snow)—but totally would have because, you know… social obligations, being a hardo and guilt. As we have learned so many times with kids, expectations were adjusted so we pulled out the map and hunkered for a day in the tent. The kids were super helpful planning our next steps, expert cartographers. Vexed by options, we stared at the map, dreaming and planning trips to last us into our 60’s. Being in a meadow surrounded by mountains, we realized we were in a good place to set up a base camp of sorts and take day hikes. Avoiding packing the horses with kids everyday was appealing.

As the snow raged on and August continued to have an identity crisis, we spent the next 8 hours in the tent. We ate a lot of snacks. We took a nap together, had a wrestle fest, read books and sang Old MacDonald 5000 times. The snow and wind finally let up that evening and we ventured out to take a short walk around the meadow. Attempting to put kids to sleep that night was similar to caging mountain lions. At one point, I watched the tent turn into an amorphous blob as small bodies ricocheted off the tent walls. When we got back into the tent after the animals had fallen asleep, there were pages of my book shredded, snacks strewn about both children were asleep.

The next day we set off for a small day hike. We planned to go up a mountain pass so we could at least see Scapegoat mountain. It was a perfect August day, bluebird skies and comfortable temperatures, no wind. It was as if the snow storm never happened. Both kids fell asleep while hiking and were rearing to go when we reached the top. We sat together in the sunshine, enjoying the wilderness, eating snacks and changing diapers with a scenic backdrop. The munchkins enjoyed the freedom of being in the wild. Noah grabbed a hiking pole and meandered about while Lou explored the pack boxes. Really, the only hardship from that hike was losing a pair of Noah’s shoes. Noah and shoes have a complicated relationship—mostly because his hypermobility makes it impossible to keep them on. When he is in a backpack or being held, his ankles go straight and most shoes fall off. Another pair bites the dust. I can’t remember if it was this night or the next that Lou face planted into the fire-pit. It was before a fire was started that day, don’t fret.

A beautiful morning (free of snow and wind) greeted us and we ventured out for another hike. We reached a point where we could view the wilderness and stopped. Everyone had a good disposition so why push it? We enjoyed scrambling around the rocks, letting bambinos feel, touch and climb as they wanted. Snacks were consumed, because, naturally, that's how you keep everyone’s spirits high. Watching Noah climb up and down the rock shelves was a highlight. Outside he seems to have this remarkable ability to throw caution to the wind—fearlessness, or just pure denial of potential consequences. Either way, it’s impressive.

Since our journey into the meadow had been longer than we expected, we decided to pack up and hike a few miles toward the trailhead, camp one more night and then have an early departure for the trailhead the last day. While trying to pack that morning, our patience was tested more than ever. Noah, only intrigued by the horses and feeling more comfortable around the hooved animals, kept wiggling his way under them. Josh and I would grab him and try to tell him he couldn’t do that. Noah was grabbing walking sticks and walking all over the meadow, kids were unpacking what we had packed, then they got hungry, then thirsty, then they didn’t like what they were wearing, then they got tired….we were thankful we didn’t attempt to pack the horses every morning in that same manner. Noah kept climbing down to the creek and one of us would go retrieve him. This happened four or five times. We would explain the danger of the river and place him in timeout. We tried strapping him in his camp chair. I found him facedown in the dirt, still strapped in with the camp chair over him. Finally, exacerbated, I looked at Josh and said just tie him to a tree. Josh balked but agreed that we needed to ensure his safety. That’s part of these trips. Learning to be a part of the group, learning to help, learning to contribute, learning to listen, learning to be safe, learning where your boundaries are. These are all things that trips give us as a family, so yeah, we ended up tying Noah to a tree for about 30 minutes while we packed up the horses so we could leave. He didn’t run a ton. He tried to escape once or twice, realized he was stuck, and resigned himself to his fate.

After this trip, we’ve confirmed the best way to handle two kids in the Bob is by setting up a base camp. It’s a great way to readjust our expectations and remind ourselves what we’re actually capable of doing with kids (spoiler: not summiting mountains). Josh and I are always guilty of setting our goals way too high, but it’s our ability to laugh it off and readjust without anyone getting their feelings hurt that keeps our outdoor adventures going. Honestly, it’s not that I need to summit Scapegoat Mountain or do a week-long loop in the Bob. What I really want is the experience. I want my kids to love nature and being outside, even if that means just staring at rocks for an hour. Don’t get me wrong, I want them to set goals and go after them—but I also want them to understand that sometimes the real goal is just sitting in the dirt and appreciating the view. My hope is that these low-pressure experiences will help them find that balance... and also teach them that dirt is a perfectly acceptable accessory.

People have told us we are bold for taking two kids into the backcountry on the horses. I’ve never seen it that way myself. I’ve only felt as though it’s a continuation of our life. I would love to have stories about me being on a horse or camping with my parents when I was that young. I know there are risks and we definitely try to mitigate them as best we can. I know you can’t remove all risks while doing something big like this, but spontaneity and risk create growth, opportunity and experiences that you wouldn’t otherwise have. I’m not saying it was easy but most challenges in life are rewarding. Things in life that are easy don’t have a deeper level of meaning or appreciation. People ask us how maintain this lifestyle with kids. I always reply you have to REALLY want it. You have to dig deep. Honestly it’s the drive, the desire and the need to continue things that were important to us before children. The need to still feel connected to the earth along with the need to still feel connected to each other and to your identity. I know we ask a lot of of our kids and I hope this sets them up well in the future. You don’t know what you’re capable of unless you try.

Oh and as an encore, the final day, Lou decided she had had enough of the backpack and threw up all over the back of my head and the backpack. Thankfully, we had two backpacks. I was pleased it was the last day and an actual shower awaited me.