For as long as I could remember, I had been asking myself, “What next?” Now, as my girls were getting older, it was becoming increasingly important to me that the time I put into planning my adventures should not come at the cost of family exploration. So it was that on the last day of school, I found myself racing to pick them up by noon, eager to begin a summer of adventures together. The car was already packed and we headed North to Nordhouse Dunes.
After a long winter of solo hiking, I was out of practice packing for the needs of young girls, and in my excitement to get out, I had neglected to pack some of the luxuries I did not ordinarily bring for myself. As we walked, I mentally cataloged the things I had forgotten: Drink mix (“That’s ok dad, we can drink water”), toilet paper (“Look girls! This is called flannel leaf. Guess what we can use it for?”), chocolate for smores (inscrutably, I had remembered the marshmallows and grahams), and snacks. Rowan had also insisted on bringing her headlamp to school against my better judgment and had managed to lose it. Remarkably, they took each new disappointment in stride, just happy to be spending time alone with their dad.
Keira and Rowan carried their selection of clothing, books, and what snacks we had, and I carried everything else. At the distances they could travel, pack weight was not as important to me as their enjoyment of the experience. I was all too happy to play Sherpa if it meant they would keep coming out with me. As we walked, the girls talked about what superpower they wished they had.
“I wish I had super speed”, Rowan said, “so I could be at the campsite already.”
“I wish I could fly”, Keira chimed in, “so I could fly to the campsite super fast.”
“What superpower would you have, dad?”
“I actually have one”, I answered, “but it’s not very glamorous.”
“What is it?” they asked, enthralled.
“I have the ability to heal mosquito bites within minutes”, I answered, holding up my arm where 3 mosquitoes were, in fact, having their way with me. Sure enough, the bumps faded within minutes. It always made me feel a bit like Wolverine from the X-men, but the girls didn’t look super impressed. By the end of the trip though, they’d be wishing for that power themselves.
This time it was a dune beetle
I could feel myself relax just watching them
Looking up, I saw her holding up what was in fact a deer’s well-gnawed limb. It was not a particularly clean specimen. Bits of hair and gristle still clung to it, and in my mind’s eye, I could see microscopic fleas jumping up and down on it. “Gaaa,” I almost yelled, as my parental instinct kicked in. “Drop that disgusting thing!” But I didn’t. Some part of me delighted in the fact that she was so engaged in the mysteries of nature. Why correct that out of her. With a silent prayer to the hand sanitizer gods, I left her to her devices.
After setting up camp, the girls got changed into bathing suits and we headed to the beach to explore
Forward progress was slowed by the fact that, unbeknownst to me, Rowan was actually a mermaid. Water was apparently the secret ingredient that unlocked her powers, for each time the surf wet her feet, she would stiffen and then helplessly flop forward into the waves, no longer able to stand as her legs magically transformed into a giant fish tail. She would wallow in the shallows for a moment before dragging herself back onto the beach. There, her legs would magically reappear once she dried off. I witnessed this transformation over a dozen times with bemused wonder, almost believing that she might actually swim off at some point and return to her ocean kingdom.
We returned to camp and the girls climbed into the tarp to change into dry clothes and prepare their beds.
Rowan: “Did you bring any pillows”
Keira: “We’re camping, Rowan. We don’t need all the comforts of home”
The girls insisted on the same dinner they always ate when camping; burgers, hot dogs, and mac and cheese. Dehydrated food in baggies is not particularly kid-friendly as it turns out. For convenience, I always precooked and froze the burgers before the trip. At dinnertime, I only needed to warm them over a small cook fire.
After dinner, we decided to head back out to the beach to watch the sunset. I stepped over to tend to the fire, as the girls got ready. All of a sudden, a shout echoed loudly across the dunes.
“HEY EVERYBODY! MY DAD’S PEEING ON THE FIRE TO PUT IT OUT!”
Keira looked at me with a sheepish grin, “Well, you sometimes embarrass me, so…”
The girls began to play a game I hadn’t seen before. Each would grab handfuls of sand, throw them up in the air, shout out “Disco Diva”, and then strike a pose.
Rowan: “Dad, can we stay up past 8?”
Keira: “It’s fine as long as mom doesn’t find out”
Keira remained awake long after Rowan had fallen asleep, chatting happily about things that 8 year olds like to think about. Eventually, conversation turned to the difference between opinion and fact, which apparently Keira had just learned at school. I tried to give her a hastily made up example. “It is a fact that I am your dad. It is my opinion that I am a pretty good one”, I offered, feeling good about the family time we had been enjoying together. “No, dad”, Keira said, “that’s a fact”.
She snuggled against me contentedly. “Everyone should go camping”, she murmured. “That is your opinion”, I replied, picturing hordes of people cluttering up the wild places I so enjoyed frequenting. “It should be a fact”, she answered with conviction.
We headed home, stopping for a favorite post-hike breakfast of biscuits, gravy, eggs, and sausage. In the spirit of road tripping, I even stopped at a roadside farm/petting zoo on the way home to prolong the enjoyment of watching the kids just being kids. I reflected on how well they had behaved during the trip, as they always had on these sorts of adventures. They were attentive, responsive, enthusiastic, and connected to their surroundings. It was a good start to summer.
Originally published June 2014