So Steve and Alex are on their annual Muddy Buddy trip. I remind Steve that this may possibly be the single most significant gift he gives his daughters in their life (besides college, of course). Kate started when she was four, carrying her My Little Pony backpack, full of Barbies. Steve and my brother Neal packed in an ice chest. It wasn’t a long hike.
Alex didn’t start until she was 7 or 8. She’s also done several week trips with the city recreation department and is as comfortable as her sister is on the trail. And Steve, well, he’s just amazing.
I don’t go, and I no longer feel guilty about it. But this year I decided to come along and spend the weekend, alone on the west shore of Lake Tahoe. Alex had a specific peak she wanted to climb, and I am satisfied that I have a daughter (actually two) who know what peaks are worth the effort (literally and figuratively). I am sure they are having a great time, after hiking for 5 or 6 hours, with everything on their backs.( Mmmm, can’t wait for that dehydrated lasagne and that comfy ground to sleep on.) On the otherhand, I have had an afternoon at the beach, reading, and then a glass (or two) of wine at the inn where I am staying…and then another glass (or two) on my patio, with a salad for dinner. And tomorrow….I am doing the same thing all over again.
Ok, so while they are off on their hike, which probably involves some pain, I am doing this.
I have my own peaks, just different ones.