I should have seen it coming. I should have known I was about to get a dose of humility.
Two days ago I went hiking with three adults and a kid. Today, as I type these words, my legs are sore (the rest of my body feels pretty damned beat-up as well) and I feel obliged to share this piece of hard-earned advice:
When you are planning a hike with friends and one of them is a young father who says he’d like to bring his seven-year-old son along, don’t do what I did: Don’t spend time worrying that the kid will slow you down. When the dad says his son is “a strong hiker,” I think you should believe him. Most of all, I suggest you beware of a seven-year-old hopped-up on gummy bears and Pepsi. He’ll kick your hiking ass.
The trip we had planned was on a snowy trail, maybe six miles round trip, with about 2000 feet of elevation gain. It was a bright, sunny day and our destination was a ridgetop at an elevation of about 6000 feet where we knew we’d have wonderful views. Organizing my daypack at the trailhead, I decided to strap snowshoes onto my pack, reasoning that if the snow got deep higher up, I could use the snowshoes to help break trail for the seven-year-old.
Once we began hiking, the kid and his dad took off and were ahead of the rest of us all day long... (so much for them needing my macho trailbreaking skills.) A couple of hours later when our whole party gathered together for lunch near some beautiful, weathered, white pine snags on the ridgetop, I ate organic fruit and nut bars (you know: Sensible Adult food.) The kid ate candy and drank pop.
We all took in the views and reveled in the camaraderie brought on by a great trip on a fine day.
