A Family that Plays Together, Stays Together

It has been years since I wrote an article for a magazine in Santa Barbara with the same title. I couldn’t resist using it again all these years later. I now have a college graduate and a younger son who has finished his sophomore year in college. My mantra has stuck, and my boys actually call Park City home! Well, most of the time.

They come “home” to trail run, hike, mountain bike, fly fish and ski—the ultimate “boys’ life.” It is my life, too. I have always loved the outdoors, but now I am obsessed with adventures and especially enjoy them when my boys come along and go my pace. We have found our own way of doing these adventures and will head out on the trails with one son mountain biking and the other trail running “his” pace, and then we set a meeting time to regroup and it is working!

My adventurous memories begin about the time I hiked Mount Washington in New Hampshire’s White Mountains, sometime between the ages of 10 and 12. It was a family outing with an overnight at Lake of the Clouds hut at the summit. We camped every summer with our massive, canvas tent and our Coleman stove, but Mount Washington was truly one of my childhood highlights.

I was fortunate to grow up with my maternal grandfather, who was a landscape architect and spent six months of the year in Connecticut and the winter months in St. Croix in the Virgin Islands. My sister and I flew unattended about the time as I was eight years old to spend two weeks with my grandparents, who owned a native sloop. We spent many days sailing and snorkeling close to Buck Island, off the coast of St. Croix. Exploring outside in nature became engrained in my psyche as a child. Since moving to Park City, where I can experience the four seasons, that love has blossomed again.

About a month ago I flew into Boston to help my younger son move out of his college dorm. We had four days to play before my older son’s college graduation. I suggested the White Mountains. At first, my son was a bit mystified why I would choose such a long drive, but then with time in the car to reconnect, he settled in for the adventure.

The plan was to attempt the 23-mile-long Presidential Traverse, with nearly 9,000 feet of elevation gain. Weather and snow conditions are a determining factor when hiking in the White Mountains. In fact, the night before our hike my son and I were watching a television show that depicted Mount Washington as one of deadliest mountains on the planet! It was a sign, a reminder, that we must follow our intuition and be cautious. The weather could change at a moment’s notice.We chose to start the traverse heading south from Mount Madison.

We drove to Gorham, New Hampshire, within a few miles of the trail head and decided we needed a short hike after the long drive. The Appalachian Trail was nearby so we set off to explore for a few hours while I took photographs of trillium and trout lilies, flowers I remembered from my childhood, and a waterfall exploding from the melting snow higher up. We could see that the peaks were mostly covered in snow from a late spring storm, and it was unlikely that we could complete the traverse this early in the season. We decided to at least attempt Mount Madison’s peak, which, at 5,367’ seemed like an attainable goal for a day hike, living as we do in Park City, at 6,200-6,400 feet. Wow! Were we mistaken!

The next morning we decided to hike following a less-traveled trail, called the Pine Link Trail, with a marker designation showing 3.8 miles to the Madison Hut. How hard could that be? We set off with confidence and determination. The narrow trail climbed, and it climbed, and it climbed and straight up, no switchbacks.

After hiking for two hours we reached the snow in our running shoes and shorts. I had done this once before on a hike in Utah attempting to reach Deseret Peak, and it had not been a pleasant experience as I watched mini avalanches fall from the cliffs above the colouir. The trail sign showed .7 miles to the Madison hut, and we would still have a bit more to reach the summit. There was no conceivable way to continue through thigh-deep snow, so we turned back to a traverse and attempted Mount Madison from a different direction.

We spent most of the rest of the day crossing rushing streams and deciding our adventure was simply to enjoy a day in the White Mountains together as mother and son! We attempted the peak from one more trail but that, too, was mostly covered in snow. Two other groups of hikers had also abandoned the summit of Mount Madison that day.

We reached the end of the trail where we had hiked the previous afternoon but our car was about six miles away. So, after hiking nearly nine hours, we had another hour to run to the car. Ten hours and nearly twenty miles later, we had covered a lot of territory and only encountered five other people all day long. The most rewarding end to the day were the words from my son, “Mom, that hike was awesome. Probably one of the most strenuous hikes we’ve done. Thanks, Mom!”

Thank you, my son. I love you with all my heart.