Sending a message to my husband and sons from Alaska's Brooks Range.

This is a post about a wife and mother’s longing. It is also a post about a once-in-a-lifetime “epic” experience that I will never forget. It is also a post about gratitude. To be a wife and mother who was supported and encouraged to have an experience like the one recalled in this post is a gift for which I’ll be forever grateful. (With Thanksgiving approaching, now is a good time for me to thank most of all my husband, Jerry, who is my biggest champion, and who encouraged me to embark on this adventure while “holding down the fort.” Also, a big thank you to my parents, who helped with the boys while I was away, and to all who provide friendship and support to me.)

It was taking seemingly forever to get our expedition started. I was in The Last Frontier, headed to The Far North, to the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, in Alaska’s Brooks Range. I had looked forward to this adventure for months and was ready to get the party started. But as I was finding out, it takes a long time to get away from civilization.

After a night in a Fairbanks campground, we boarded a small airplane and spent a couple of hours flying to Coldfoot. After landing, we loaded into a van and spent three more hours traveling north before, finally, we were dropped off along the side of the road.

I was on my way to spending 12 days backpacking and exploring, while learning wilderness travel, outdoor skills and leadership from the world’s premier teacher, the National Outdoor Leadership School.

The experience I was about to embark upon was a dream come true. Actually it was two dreams come true.

Up until my departure for this trip, I had just one regret in my life, and that was that I had never taken a NOLS course. I was raised in Lander, Wyoming, where NOLS is headquartered. During my formative years, my parents would have supported my enrollment in a NOLS course and had offered as much. Unfortunately, I was more interested in my social life and basketball. But that was then. Now, I am an outdoor enthusiast. I love everything NOLS stands for, and I take pride in the fact that my town is home to the organization.

In recent years, when my regret for having never enrolled in a NOLS course would surface, friends who work at NOLS would tell me, “You know, it’s never too late.” But I wasn’t quick to agree. After all, I am a mother of young children. It felt selfish to think of embarking on a 2-week adventure. So, enrolling in a NOLS course was no small deal for me. It was a dream that had been hard for me to “justify.”

The other reason the NOLS course would be a dream come true for me is because of its location. I travel the country in search of the most epic scenery. In my mind, no place embodied epic better than Alaska’s Brooks Range. It would be a dream come true for me to get to intimately explore such an epic place.

Alaska is huge. Situated in the northwest extremity of the North America, with Canada to the east, the Arctic Ocean to the north and the Pacific Ocean to the west and south, Alaska has a larger coastline that all U. S. states combined. Occupying 586,000 square miles, it is the largest U. S. state. And yet, it is the least populated. To put it in perspective, there is one person per square mile.

It’s vast, unpopulated and extremely wild, complete with grizzly bears. For all of these reasons, the NOLS Brooks Range Hiking course was perfect. Like I said, the things dreams are made of.

Except for one problem. It would come with some longing –– some serious longing.

Here is a clip of photos I captured and printed to be included in letters and cards a neighbor mailed to Jerry and boys for me every day while I was away:

Due to one of NOLS’ policies, which I understand, appreciate and support, I would have no communication with anyone outside of our course. That’s right, two weeks of no communication with my family.

The farther north we traveled on the Dalton Highway, the more excited I became. And yet at the same time, the farther north we traveled, the more heart sick I became as I realized the scale of this region and its distance from my family.

I should mention that traveling and being away from my family is not unusual for me. I travel frequently. When I am away, I miss them very much and, as a result I limit and select travel with great care. Typically I’m away for no longer than 1-3 days, and I can start and end each day in conversation with all of my sons. In a way, I can be there for them even though I’m geographically not there.

During my NOLS course, I would not be there for them. And, they would not be there for me.

I have many friends who are terrific role models as parents, who travel much more than I do. In the weeks leading up to my NOLS course, I looked to them for support. Their input was helpful. They told me things like, “This is good modeling for your sons. You want them to choose girls/women who are adventurous and brave.” And: “Think of the special gift you’re providing by leaving them to have these two weeks of special time with their father.” And: “Think of the country you will see and the tales of adventure you will get to share with your family upon your return.” And: “This is a dream of yours. It’s not a vacation, but an expedition. It will grow you. The knowledge and experience you gain from it will enable you to have a greater impact on the lives of your children, and future clients.” It all made perfect sense.

But. Still.

“Video Love Notes” I captured for Jerry and our sons during my NOLS Brooks Range Hiking course:

I worried aloud about not being here for my boys for two whole weeks. To this, some of closest friends reminded me that children are resilient and that although my sons love me, they probably wouldn’t miss me as much as I think they would, or as much as I would miss them. While hearing this was not exactly comforting, it was honest, and therefore helpful as I prepared to long for my boys.

Being away from my boys, with no ability to hear their voices and know how their lives and days were going, would – hands down – be the most difficult part of my NOLS experience. This much I knew.

The rain and intermittent snow, hiking through spongy tundra, and tussocks and through alders and across rivers and up steep, loose, exposed mountain ridges with a heavy pack on my back was easy compared to enduring the longing I had for my boys. The longing for my boys was at its worst at the end of each day when we all retreated to our tents. I would lie there and yearn to hear their voices, to smell their hair, to hold their hands, to “dog-pile” with them, and just to be in their presence. I was emotionally tender during these times. I literally had a heart ache.

Letter from our 4-year-old son, Fin.

Letter from our 9-year-old son, Hayden.

Letter from our 11-year-old son, Wolf.

The boys often roll their eyes at me, the only girl in our home. Here is a photo they included with their notes to me where there are glued on plastic rolling eyes glued onto their eyes.

When I sign up for something that is hard, I grow. My NOLS Brooks Range course was hard, all right. But, it was also, truly, an experience of a lifetime.

Despite the longing, I made life-long friends with my eight course-mates and our two wonderful instructors. I was blown away and inspired to new levels by the sights and scale of Alaska’s Brooks Range. I experienced the best leadership training, ever. I grew. I returned more, and better, than I was before. Part of this is due to the longing I experienced. Because my NOLS course meant sacrificing time and contact with my family, I participated in the course and experienced the Alaska tundra to the absolute fullest. As a result of all of these things, I cannot imagine a richer experience. And, I am quite certain that I returned a better mother and wife.

Photos I captured during my NOLS Brooks Range Hiking course for Jerry and our sons:

For all of you considering a NOLS course, I cannot recommend it enough. Please feel free to contact me to ask more personal or extensive questions about my experience.

This “self interview” captured on my final day in the Brooks Range says it better than my written words:

In closing, here are some things I did before my departure to ensure my boys would be touched, and reminded of my love, on a daily basis, despite no real-time communication with them, as well as some things I did for them during my absence.

5.) Before I departed for Alaska, it was decided the boys would have their own expedition — a project we termed, “Expedition Basement.” Basically, while their mommy was away they would have full rein in creating a “Boy Cave” downstairs. This gave them something exciting to look forward to, while facilitating a project for them to focus their creative energies on without my interference. You should see it. Paint thrown on the walls, a big screen television, skull and cross bone flags, and even a mini-fridge (for their juice pops I guess?) It’s a riot.

In the Brooks Range, on our last night.

This is Post 2 in a series about my recent Alaska Brooks Range backpacking course.

It was Aug. 6, the afternoon before the start of my NOLS Brooks Range Hiking course. I was in Alaska, enjoying the comforts of the Ah, Rose Marie Bed & Breakfast, in Fairbanks, while waiting for others enrolled in the course to arrive.

As I waited to meet my course-mates, I wondered: What kind of person signs up for a Brooks Range NOLS course?

I generally love people. I get energy from people, and am inspired by people. Still, I get a little nervous before meeting new people.

We would be dropped off by the side of the road, north of the Arctic Circle, a region where evacuation is nearly impossible. We would be off the grid, and we would not be “picked up” for 12 days.

We would be “stuck,” together.

Strangers, dropped off on side of road in the Far North.

After being dropped off, and watching the van drive off, I recalled a quote by John Kauffmann in John McPhee’s Coming Into the Country: “You come to this place on its terms. You assume the risk.”

For me, part of the risk (read: scary part) of the NOLS course was setting off into The Far North with people I didn’t know.

I did not enroll in a NOLS course for the people I would meet. I enrolled in the NOLS Brooks Range Hiking course because I wanted to experience an epic place that is wild and vast and home to very few people, and to learn leadership and outdoor skills from the world’s premier teacher.

The NOLS course is not a guided tour or a vacation. It’s a lot of work. In fact, it is mostly work. The easiest part of the Brooks Range Hiking course was the hiking. When we weren’t hiking, we were setting up camp, cooking or baking, cleaning up, only to wake up again the next morning to break it all down and pack it all up and start all over again.

My hiking team on top of a snowy pass.

At times there was torrential rain, cold, and even snow, and steep slopes and loose rock, and sinking, squishy tundra over which to hike, or tussocks, which felt like hands coming out of the tundra and pulling/tugging your ankles down as you tried to take a hiking step, and there were deep rivers to cross.

We had to work together, which at times meant working out differences and supporting each other in a wide range of circumstances. We had to pull together in times of hardship to move the group forward. It meant being selfless.

Each of us was vulnerable during the course, and often, which meant we really got to know each other.

Working together to set up camp.

Perhaps course-mate Jon (Rosenfield) said it best, in his informal video interview, which I captured near the course’s end, when he said the Brooks Range experience meant “coming back in contact with myself, because there’s no hiding from all parts of yourself out here.”

Indeed. Each of us revealed ourselves in The Far North.

Hiking up a hill toward a mountain pass.

Through thick and thin, I came to love these people who were on my course.

The hardest part of the course for me was being away from, (and out of contact with) my three young sons and husband. My Brooks Range comrades – Antonia, Chris, Jon, JJ, Marc, Pat, Cutter, Lauren and Amy – were a wonderful surrogate family for me. They are not merely friends; they’ve made it all the way into my inner circle, which is saying something because before the course, I already had plenty of wonderful people in my life.

By the end of the trip, I felt right at home. Marc, Chris and Jon, who were part of my cook group, were rolling their eyes at me -- much like my boys do to me at home.

A couple of weeks before I departed Wyoming for Alaska, I went to coffee with a friend who is a former NOLS instructor and who has spent time in Alaska’s Brooks Range. She shared her photos and further whetted my appetite for the upcoming adventure. One of the things she told me, that struck me, was that the experience would change me, and that one thing I may notice upon my return will be I will have changed, but the world and people around me won’t have changed.

Sure, I changed as a result of experiencing, so intimately, Alaska’s stunning Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and Brooks Range.

But the biggest change in me was brought about by my course-mates. Because they were/are so different from me, I learned much from them, while discovering new things about myself. And in the process, we shared what was for me an unforgettable, experience of a lifetime.

The best way I can describe the way these special people changed me is to say I am better because of them.

My Brooks Range people, on top of our last pass, toward the end of our course.

Antonia, Chris, Jon, “JJ”, Marc, Pat, Cutter, Lauren and Amy: Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

I would love to introduce you to them here:

Antonia Ruppel (or “Toni”), 32, is a native German, with a B.A., Masters and Ph.D. from Cambridge University, is a Senior Lecturer in Classics, teaching Greek, Latin and Sanskrit at Cornell University. Antonia speaks beautiful, “proper” English. I could listen to her for hours if afforded the privilege.

Antonia Ruppel.

I loved having her as a tent-mate. She is the wittiest person I have ever met, and is fascinating to converse with, what with her wealth of knowledge and what is a wide range of interests. Except for our two female instructors, Antonia and I were the only women on the course. As hopefully women readers will appreciate, we girls like our girlfriends for particular types of conversations. It was a treat to retreat to the tent each night and have important – and rich – conversations with Antonia. I would share some of them but then I’d have to kill you. Yes, the conversations were that great. I have never met anyone like Antonia. She is that much of a treat. She is brilliant, charming, and I have to say it again, fantastically funny. I also loved her enthusiasm for hunting down wild blueberries, and her skills at finding (usually several) antlers on every single hike. We will remain friends forever, and I consider myself lucky as a result.

Chris Scovil, 28, is a Tax Manager at Deloitte Tax LLP, in Chicago, IL. At 6’9”, Chris was “the tall man” on the course. He is a triathlete, has an appreciation for fine food, and his passions include international relations, cooking, thoughtful conversation and the outdoors.

Chris Scovil.

Chris’s courage on loose, exposed terrain, despite his discomfort, was an inspiration to me during the course. I was fortunate to be in Chris’ cook group, and on many days, in his hiking group, and can fondly recall many meaningful conversations we shared. Chris was often the first to start doing the “common work” that had to be done every morning and evening, even as all of us were getting soaked in a downpour. He placed a great deal of respect on goals and schedules, which I really appreciated during our course, and in my life, in general. One other thing about Chris is that he has a big vocabulary. Prior to this course I was proud of the extent of my vocabulary, but on a few occasions Chris used words I didn’t know the meaning for. A word lover, I found these instances exciting. I would be on Chris’s team any day. He is not only really smart and driven, but also courageous, loyal and generous.

Jon Rosenfield, 42, is a Ph.D. conservation biologist for the Bay Institute in the San Francisco area. This was his fifth NOLS adventure, which to me, meant he is an expert at all things NOLS. He took me under his wing and taught me how to master the camp stove and the spice kit.

Jon Rosenfield.

He helped me turn unspectacular entrées into spectacular entrées, such as the apricot, cashew and sunflower nut quinoa meal I made for our cook group the night before an arduous hike over a big mountain pass. Jon is engaging and smart and funny. He had many of us in stitches for long periods of time. We had many great conversations “in the kitchen” and while sharing caffeinated mud from his coffee press. Due to his many NOLS experiences and his unending good nature, it really was a gift to be on the course with him. By the end of our trip I felt like I had known Jon for most of my life. He was probably the first of my course-mates to make it into my inner circle. Which is really saying something.

Marc Morisset, 31, was born in Belgium, Brussels, but now lives in Paris, France, where he is an international sales manager. Marc is well-traveled (he has traveled to 50 countries), and after our initial conversation, I sensed he was hungry for an outdoor experience and a physical challenge.

Marc Morisset.

Throughout the course, I admired Marc’s quiet leadership, especially the way he would step up and lead, with conviction, when he was asked to be “on point.” I remember the day our group was crossing the Continental Divide, and Marc was asked to take point on what was a very steep, loose slope of rock sliding on top of more sliding rock. He rose to the occasion and did a phenomenal job of route finding. As someone who asks a lot of questions, I appreciated Marc’s own questions of others in his desire to learn. He was there to be challenged, and to learn, and he applied himself to the course, and to our mission, to the full extent. When I first met him my impression was that he was a very serious man, which certainly I think he is, but I also got to see a very fun, and funny side of him when we taught him how to play gin rummy, and during his telling a story about his role in playing high stakes poker. I am glad that I met Marc, and that he is among my friends.

Cutter Williams turned 27 during our course, and is from Portland, OR. He is a writer, who works as a barista at a popular coffee house. When he’s not a barista, he is working toward publishing a magazine called Cavalcade Literary Magazine. I found Cutter and I to be kindred spirits in that we both would like to, well, just walk, preferably forever, even it’s all uphill.

Cutter Williams.

Introspective, Cutter was often laying in the tundra reading a novel or writing in his journal along a babbling brook. I envy Cutter’s ability to “chill.” I have three unforgettable memories that occurred on the course involving Cutter: an air ping pong game on his birthday that we played until we realized we didn’t have anyone willing to chase the ball for us, skipping rocks across the Chandalar River, and also his finishing my “Yeehaw” bear calls with his signature finish. Watch for his name in future literary works. I have a hunch that great literary things are in store for Cutter. I also hope to take him “walking” in my back yard, the Wind River Mountains, one day. I think he’d love ‘em.

Pat Kirby, 25, is an investigator for The Public Defender Service for the District of Columbia, in Washington, D. C. Two things I’m absolutely certain of after having spent time with Pat is that he is an extraordinary friend to his friends, and that his employer is lucky to have him on board. He very evidently cherishes his friends. This was obvious when he referred to them in conversation.

Pat Kirby.

It is obvious to all around Pat that he is a man of honor and integrity, which must serve him well in his work, which he loves, including the responsibility that comes with it. Pat is a natural team player. I witnessed him many times winning consensus while leading or being on point during a hike, or even during tasks at our camp. He is a good initiator, but is also an active follower. It is evident that in all areas of his life, he is a contributor. He is someone I’d want on my team, and I would be honored to be on his. He is sometimes quiet, and so it’s an exceptional treat when he finds something really funny because his laugh is quite boisterous, and when he gets going, it’s contagious. I imagine those closest to him get to hear that a lot, and I envy them for that.

John Jostrand, or “JJ,” is 57, and is a partner in an investment management and banking firm in Chicago, IL. John is married and has two grown sons. I connected with JJ for many reasons, but initially because we are both spouses and parents and had those things in common. He was also the oldest (yet as fit as a 25-year-old) on the course, so I, the second-to-oldest, looked to him for his wisdom on all kinds of fronts. JJ (very obviously) is an effective leader.

John (JJ) Jostrand.

He is enthusiastic, warm and engaging. His love for the outdoors and physical challenge was evident throughout our course. Others gravitate toward him. I was fortunate to be in JJ’s hiking group often, but a few of the experiences with JJ that I’ll never forget include the time we had a “Vista Data” break and he discovered a location at which an unfortunate dall sheep met its end. It was quite a find! JJ was also along when we “went swimming” in the Brooks Range, and again during our “rock sledding” adventure. JJ had many notable bear calls, but “Booyah!” was his signature call and I will think of him now whenever I hear that word. He also had a stash of Brazil nuts that he shared with me throughout the course. JJ is a kindred spirit. I admire him and am better for having met him.

(Instructor) Lauren Rocco, 25, is in her second year as a NOLS field instructor and recently relocated to Palmer, AK. She graduated from Dartmouth College in 2008 with a degree in Government and an interest in Computer Science. Upon graduating, she caught what she calls a “travel-exploratory bug,” and wanted to travel and learn more. In 2008-09 and 2009-10, she went to Antarctica to shovel snow and work in the carpentry shop.

Lauren Rocco.

Most recently she was a teacher at a charter school in Boston, MA. Lauren is currently enrolled in an EMT course and in addition to leading NOLS courses, she would like to volunteer for the local Search and Rescue. Lauren told me that she finds instructing for NOLS is meaningful, impactful, challenging, and “it obliges everyone involved to become better human beings.” When she’s not leading a NOLS course, she’s likely learning something, constructing something, reading, cooking, programming, or going for walks and exploring. I found Lauren to be a most effective leader, engaging and sensitive to both the environment and those around her. Her love of learning and her genuine interest in others was demonstrated throughout our course. She often read poetry to us during our evening meeting. In addition to being a great leader, Lauren is a lot of fun to be around. I went swimming, “rock sledding” and played “Ninja” in the Brooks Range – all of which happened when I was in the company of Lauren.

(Instructor) Amy Davidson, 36, is a NOLS field instructor and program supervisor. She graduated from the University of California at Berkeley with a major in Linguistics and a minor in Education. She took her NOLS Instructor course in May 1999 and worked her first course that summer. Subsequently she worked one summer course per year while working in San Francisco as a creative services consultant to the advertising industry.

Amy Davidson.

In the past two years, Amy has been a full-time NOLS employee, working in Alaska during the boreal Summer and in New Zealand during the balance of the year. Amy is smart and very funny. Her style is directive and yet engaging. As someone who wants to be a leader but can use more directive, I learned a lot on the course by watching Amy’s leadership style. She was well liked – loved – and yet has a knack for being directive and decisive. In being that way, Amy really enables her students to become more than what they otherwise would become as leaders in the outdoors. Amy is a high level leader who instills confidence in those she leads by challenging them to not be afraid to try, and even fail, and to embrace doing so in the pursuit of learning. I really enjoyed having Amy as one of our instructors and she is a great model for me.

Thanks for reading! Please check back soon for more blogging about my Brooks Range experience.

FOR MORE PHOTOS, AND VIDEOS:

Videos

Photos – part 1 of 2

Photos – part 2 of 2

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The National Outdoor Leadership School is the world’s premier teacher of outdoor skills and leadership. Consider enrolling in a NOLS course. There are many to choose from, throughout the world. Or, request a catalog that provides in-depth course information.

During the 45-mile Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim of Grand Canyon in May 2010.

One of my favorite words is EPIC. I probably drive people nuts because I say it (as well as stellar) so often. Even my new business (Epic Life) even has the word in it. I have a lot of epic in my life. This is by design.

By epic, I mean something beyond scale, bigger than anything you’ve done before. By epic, I mean so difficult it will require, at times, a heroic effort; so difficult its outcome is uncertain; so difficult it will require skills you don’t currently have; so difficult it cannot be done alone — it requires a team. For all of these reasons, epic means unforgettable. You will never forget the experience.

One of my foremost passions is long distance day hiking. I like to hike far and fast in a single day. Some of my recent epic adventures include a 45-mile Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim, a 50-mile traverse (day hike) of Zion National Park, a 32-mile Traverse day hike of Wyoming’s southern Wind River Range, a 2-week NOLS backpacking expedition in Alaska’s vast and remote Brooks Range, and many others. I also skate skied 50 miles in a day last winter.

I should say that, being from Lander, WY, where there are many world-class athletes in various outdoor pursuits, at least in Lander I consider myself merely “normal.” But most people, regardless of location, have the same reaction when I tell them of my love of hiking 30-50 miles in a single day. They look at me like I’m whacked, with confusion.

I’m developing a leadership coaching business for women that, as part of a package, will provide epic adventure(s). Recently, when telling a colleague about my plans, she responded with, “What I don’t understand is why you do these things.” In not so many words, she was saying this will be important for my marketing. (Thank you Debbie Cohen).

So, I’ve been thinking about this question. Why do I do these epic adventures? Here is my list of reasons. Of course, it is epic.

• Health benefit. To embark on an epic adventure, I need to be in great shape. This fact keeps me training at a high level throughout the year so that I can consider any audacious adventure that presents itself to me or that I find intriguing. Being super fit also ensures I’ll be able to keep up with our three young sons and my ambitious husband. (I wasn’t always this fit. It takes determination and commitment. But my level of participation – in all aspects of my life – has increased and improved as a result of my commitment to good health. I highly recommend it. It also helps when it comes to recovery. My legs were tired, but not sore, after the recent Zion traverse.)

• It’s a lot of work. I love the process of working, and the harder, the better. There is something about my heart pumping and the feel of my muscles working, my mind alternating between wandering and focusing that happens on these epic outings that makes me feel very alive.

Grand Canyon.

• Nature. My senses are most alive when I’m outdoors in a spectacular natural setting. I’m talking about natural beauty that can move me to tears just by looking at it and taking it all in. The fresh air on my skin, the scents of the landscape and the songs of birds and sounds of animals are all present. It’s a very real connection I experience with nature.

Pingora, Cirque of Towers, in Wyoming's southern Wind River Range.

• Mind clearing. You know the saying – “wherever you go, there you are” (Jon Kabat-Zinn). I show up to the trail with all my “stuff.” There could be lots on my mind, not much, all good, all bad, nothing special, something that is really special – whatever. Me, and all that matters to me in my world, show up. As the adventure gets under way, the solitude I’m afforded (which is provided even when I’m hiking with others) enables thoughts to get organized (“mapped”) in my mind. Mostly this is unconscious for me. Thoughts that are most pressing will rise to the top.

I can consciously choose to focus on something and try to keep my mind on that topic, or I can let my mind wander and let thoughts lead and lay where they may. The former takes effort as my mind wants to wander when I’m in open space, moving in a place surrounded by huge vistas. By the time I’ve completed the hike, I’m much more clear on many things. I have solved problems, prioritized, come up with brainstorms for solutions, written blog posts, re-played conversations that are important, made discoveries, etc.

• Camaraderie: It is amazing to share an epic adventure with other like-minded people. All of the epic adventures I’ve been on with others have provided a social aspect, as well as opportunities for solitude. The conversations that occur and that are shared along the trail add to the experience and the memories.

Camaraderie.

• Humility. In the natural places I’ve been and am drawn to, the views are remote and natural and rugged and enormous in scale. I feel insignificant in size, both with respect to the country that surrounds me, but also to the task at hand. This experience humbles me. I love that it does.

The Roaring Fork, Wyoming's Wind River Range.

• Pilgrimage. The longer and harder (the more epic) the adventure, the more spiritual it is for me. Because the adventure is hard work and is very much a struggle, I become vulnerable. I find myself in an awe-inspiring place, with my senses completely awake, yet weak due to the effort. I always discover new truths about myself during this struggle.

Great scenery helps lift the spirits when struggle sets in.

• Mental toughness. Or, shall we say, an epic adventure provides an opportunity to practice “mind over matter.” During these epic hikes, there is always a crux, sometimes more than one, when things are at their most difficult, and I find that I am at choice. I want to quit. I have completely blister-damaged feet, or my legs hurt, or I’m out of energy, or it’s too arduous of a task to continue or finish, it’s closer to the start than the finish, or all of the above.

Completely blister-damaged feet during my Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim.

During these hardest times of the hike, the negotiations in my mind start. (And I’m a pretty effective negotiator!) I start arguing and settling and negotiating and reasoning with myself in my head. Examples: Well, if I don’t do the full 50 miles, that’s okay – 42 miles with this much elevation gain and loss is pretty awesome. Or: Well it was a long winter and I’ve only logged one 20-mile hike so far, so it would still be awesome if I were to stop after 36. Or: These conditions suck. There is no way anyone would finish this on a day like this, in these conditions.)

Tough times in Grand Canyon. It was, well, hot.

This crux – this place I describe above – is a very powerful place to be. It’s when I’m reminded of the many survival stories I’ve read and been in awe about, including the likes of Ernest Shackleton’s Endurance or Unbroken, the survival story about Louie Zamperini. I think of these stories, and others, and talk about getting perspective real quickly! Suddenly my issues are tiny in size. And, it’s during this stage that I’m reminded that, in fact, we are at choice. Come to think of it, my being there was a choice. (Read VIKTOR FRANKL’S MAN’S SEARCH FOR MEANING, which in so many words states that, Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation. You cannot control what happens to you in life, but you can always control what you feel and do about what happens to you.)

During the crux (meltdown) of an epic adventure, the question I often ask myself is, How do I want this story to end? What is the story I want to tell about this? Of course as a writer, this context makes sense. The point is I get to decide, which is not always easy, especially since it would be easier to quit. On the Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim, I had major blisters on both feet by mile nine, and before the half-way point, both of my feet were totally blister-damaged. Every step (millions?) felt as if I were standing on needles or burning coals. However, for me, it’s often harder to quit and have the ending I don’t want, than it is to suck it up and do the rest of the work. (Please take note that blisters do not cause permanent damage so I didn’t view my continuing as reckless, just very difficult and painful.)

The power is in the fact that this is a choice that I get to make and that I live with that choice. I like the power of this and it serves as a metaphor for all the choices we get to make in our lives. (By the way, I have not always chose to end stories with “happy, successful endings.” I quit the Tahoe 50-mile run at mile 42 due to heat ailments, and I quit the Run to the Sun 37-mile event after 27 miles, because, well, I just didn’t want to finish. I learned from these non-finishes despite the fact they were not the endings I was going for.)

In short, these epic hikes provide me with practice for life’s challenges and hardships.

•  Accomplishment. When I finish something that’s, by my standards, epic, I am a better leader as a result. This translates also into increased confidence that helps in all aspects of my life.

The "finish line" after the Zion National Park Traverse, May 2011.

• Gratitude. Often, near the end of an epic adventure, some tears are shed. Most of them come as a result of gratitude that overwhelms me. Physical hardship (which causes vulnerability), natural beauty, and solitude combine to fill me with gratitude, especially for my family and friends, my abilities, the opportunity to have this experience, the scenery that surrounds me — not to mention that near the end, success is almost for certain! The final stage of the epic adventure becomes very personal, and devotional, for me.

Zion National Park, West Rim Trail.

• Becoming More, and Better.
Finally, the biggest reason I choose to pursue epic is because doing so causes me to become more, and better, than I was before.

During my NOLS course in Alaska's Brooks Range.

So, there you have it. These are the reasons that I choose to do these epic adventures. There is no question I am better for them. I am healthier, have improved leadership, confidence and participation in my own life, have collected some interesting stories to share, have seen sights so stunning that they continue to inspire me, have formed lasting friendships as a result of these adventures, and feel more alive than ever. I have experienced change, and have grown. I am energized and fulfilled. It is my aim to facilitate the same epic experiences for my clients. (BTW, epic means different things for different people. An epic adventure for a client might be an eight-mile hike at altitude. Or more. Or less.)

I would love to hear your thoughts on epic adventures. Have you embarked on one? And, how did it affect and/or change you?
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Epic Life, provides coaching that dares its clients to live as if they’re dying — as if every day counts. Epic Life dares you to go off-trail and uphill, to choose your own way even if it’s the hard way — especially if it’s the hard way. It’s about going farther than you’ve ever gone before. Epic Life is about changing your world. It’s about changing the world. Epic Life is about creating a life that takes your breath away — a life that is epic. Email me if you’re interested in learning more.

In Hop Valley, about eight miles into an approximately 50-mile traverse hike.

Our approximately 50-mile traverse hike was the idea of Mike Lanza. He recently turned 50, and had conjured up this trek that would commemorate a mile for every one of his years. My friend, Jon Dorn, who took me on the epic Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim around this time last year, was kind enough to invite me along.

On Friday, I drove 10 hours from my hometown of Lander, WY, to a hotel near Hurricane, UT, located about 40 minutes from our adventure’s start. That evening I had dinner with four of the guys who would be on the trek. (I would be the only woman, hiking with seven men.) After dinner, I set my alarm to wake up — a mere three hours later. Turns out I got a full two hours of shut-eye. Wow.

The cast of characters on the hike hailed from six states, including California, Idaho, Colorado, Montana, Massachusetts and Wyoming. Included: Mike Lanza, creator of TheBigOutside.com, author of an upcoming book about climate warming in our national parks, and northwest editor for Backpacker magazine; Jon Dorn, adventure athlete and editor-in-chief of Backpacker; Mark Fenton, a race walker and bike- and pedestrian-friendly community-building consultant; Carl Schueler, an Olympic race walker who works in land use planning; Todd Arndt, a family physician and competitive runner; David Ports, multi-sport adventurer and the USA YMCA Director; Mark Godley, an avid adventurer and a sales representative for a software startup; and finally, me, a consultant, writer and aspiring life and leadership coach.

In other words, the event would be well documented and widely published, fast-moving, pedestrian-friendly, a good use of the land, well-planned, provided with medical care (medicated, even, perhaps?) and effectively sold. And, if I could keep up, perhaps I could provide some championing and cheering.

By the way, in addition to all the logistics such an epic trek requires, as a group we also agreed not to eat each other no matter the circumstances. No cannibalism. Still, as the only girl on this trip, and knowing how desperate people doing these long adventures can become, I planned to make myself look as unsavory as possible.

We started from Lees Pass, in the Kolob Canyons region, on the LaVerkin Creek Trail. It was 52 degrees at the 3:15 a.m. start and we hiked under a dark, clear sky. For the first few miles, I couldn’t see anything other than the light from my headlamp that illuminated the path in front of me, and the streaming line of little lights from the others.

Once my eyes adjusted, I could sense the huge canyon walls we were walking under and through and I could see the outline of their ridges. They were impressive in size and made me feel like an ant. And we were an awful lot like ants — carrying our loads and moving quite briskly under the enormous canyon walls in a single-file line — with great purpose.

We covered the first six miles quickly and with ease.

After about seven miles we could hear roaring water. Mike commented, “Wow. LaVerkin is running strong.” I started to get nervous as we hiked and the creek’s roar became louder, and closer. I started negotiating in my head the other things he said instead of that the creek was running strong. But I couldn’t come up with any other logical words that rhymed so I remained wound up.

Crossing a high and swift LaVerkin Creek. This is at the end of the crossing. Look at my shorts to see how deep the water was in the middle. That's David Ports behind me. (Photo by Michael Lanza)

Sure enough the creek was running strong. I’ll say! The creek isn’t wide, but looked deep and swift. I was scared. As we all looked for a good place to cross, Mark (Fenton) decided to give it the first shot. I watched as he got half way across, and was under water to his waist and stopped just short of the other side. I’m not going to lie. For a moment there, I thought he might go down creek. He is a strong guy, and yet was fighting the current pretty good. Finally he stepped up to the other side’s bank, soaked, but safe.

I was scared. I have crossed many rivers, many much wider than this creek. But I had no experience crossing a creek or river as deep and swift as this.

Todd found a little wider, less deep channel and the rest of us opted to take his route. I confided in Jon and David, “I’m just letting you guys know that I’m out of my comfort zone. I’m scared. I don’t have experience crossing deep creeks or rivers.”

Gentlemen that they are, Jon and David offered to go in front of, and behind, me. They instructed me to plant my poles and focus on getting good footing. I found that it also helped for me to look across to the other side rather than down at the swift current. Crossing in between these two strong guys made it easier and before I knew it, I was standing on the other side, wet to the tops of my thighs, but safe all the same. It was exhilarating, not to mention, cold and invigorating.

Mike Lanza and Todd Arndt, doing some early-stage hiking.

Next up was the Hop Valley Trail. We hit the valley right at sunrise and the sights were amazing. We hiked on a sandy, wet trail amidst breathtaking beauty of towering red walls to our left and right. This stretch of the trail was challenging in that we had to cross a stream that was about ankle deep with no rocks to hop on, about 10 times. We crossed it so often that it didn’t make sense to de-shoe every time. As a result, my feet got quite wet and caked and filled with orange mud during this stretch.

Although this part of the hike was absolutely breathtaking in its beauty, I was concerned that my wet, muddy shoes might present problems for my blister-prone feet, and, by that point, we were not even 14 miles into the hike. This worry weighed on me because I fully intended to make the complete traverse and was intent on preserving my feet for as long as possible. So in the big scheme of things, this wasn’t an ideal start. We also lost the trail a couple of times, which cost us a little additional time and energy. But I’m not complaining; the scenery was too outstanding and the company too awesome.

After about mile 14, we arrived at the Hop Valley trailhead. There, Amy and Lisa, wife of (speedy) hiker Mark Fenton, greeted us with homemade wheat/cinnamon waffles, coffee, yummy homemade trail mix and other gourmet treats. Their smiling faces and cheering lifted my spirits, which had sunk a little out of concern for my wet feet.

Soon we were off again. It was 9 a.m., and it was heating up. We took the Connector and Wildcat Canyon trails to eventually meet up with the West Rim Trail. The four-mile Connector trail is just that — a means to connect to other trails. As we started down the trail I realized how hot the sun felt and that it was only 9 a.m. Not a super performer in high heat, I felt a little more worry set in. Fortunately by 10 a.m., gray clouds filled the sky. I was more thrilled to have cloud cover than concerned about precipitation. This cover persisted and provided significant relief from heat for several hours.

Standing along the West Rim of Zion.

It took quite a while to reach the West Rim Trail but we made up some time and had returned to a pretty swift hiking pace on the two trails that would get us there.

Soon after joining the Wildcat Canyon Trail, I parted company with Mike, Todd and David, who opted for a short side trip to Northgate Peaks. (Jon, Carl and Mark F were ahead on the same side trip) I opted to continue onward. My goal was to make the traverse, rather than hit a particular total distance in miles for the day and I remained focused on preserving my blister-prone feet for as long as possible, which for me, meant not adding any additional miles.

I hiked alone for just under six miles before reaching the West Rim Trail. I took my shoes off to soak my feet and cross Blue Creek. Because I was now ahead of the others, I took my time to sit on a rock and air-dry my feet, change socks again, and consume some high-energy calories, before continuing and shortly arriving to the West Rim Trail.

This was a big deal, getting to the West Rim Trail. I have heard many times from people, and in articles I’ve read, that Zion’s West Rim Trail is absolutely spectacular. In other words, I was about to enjoy some serious payoff for my efforts thus far. I couldn’t wait to see what all the fuss about West Rim was about.

I waited for a bit to see if any of the others would show up. About 10 minutes later I heard voices and greeted Mark, Carl and Jon. Together we found a shade tree, where they all removed shoes and took a short break. Because I had enjoyed the recent break at Blue Creek, and given my eagerness to see West Rim’s sights, I opted to continue. Jon said he’d wait up for David and Mike, and I was off.

Stellar views from the West Rim Trail.

The West Rim Trail is long. It is 14.5 miles from its start to the Grotto Picnic Area, in Zion Canyon, situated on the park’s main road. For the first six or seven miles the trail is unspectacular, offering a great view of Wildcat Canyon, but not much else. It follows a pretty even grade until dropping into Potato Hollow. It wasn’t long, and speedy hikers/race walkers Mark and Carl showed up. I enjoyed hiking with them for a couple of miles, during which Todd also caught up.

Todd, approaching yet another epic vista along Zion's West Rim Trail.

We relieved our feet with a quick break, and a water re-supply in the non-scenic, burned (read: un-shaded) Potato Hollow area.

Carl and Mark jetted ahead from there, and Todd and I hiked together along the West Rim of Zion. We were both complaining, if only slightly, about the lackluster views for what was reported to be a trail known for stunning vistas.

As if on demand, everything changed. In front of us for the next several minutes was an unfolding, labyrinth of canyons. We were completely wowed. We stopped several times to just look at the jaw-dropping views before us. As if the views weren’t quite enough, there was an assortment of brand new flowers in bloom along the Rim trail. Absolutely stellar views.

From the West Rim are views of a labyrinth of canyons and unique formations.

After following the West Rim, the trail descends into and in and out of the unique and massive rock formations, for which Zion is famous. The geology of Zion includes nine formations that, combined, represent 150 million years of mostly Mesozoic-aged sedimentation. Back then, warm, shallow seas, streams, ponds and lakes, vast deserts, and dry near-shore environments covered the area. Uplift associated with the creation of the Colorado Plateau lifted the region 10,000 feet starting 13 million years ago.

Todd, on the West Rim Trail.

The North Fork of the Virgin River carved Zion Canyon, and during the later stages lava flows and cinder cones covered parts of the area. While hiking up, down and through these unique and massive cone-shaped formations, I couldn’t help but feel quite insignificant in the spectrum of time.

Starting our descent into Zion Canyon, still on the West Rim Trail.

At around mile 35, Jon caught up with Todd and I, and we consumed with much enthusiasm some Twizzlers (red licorice goodness) that were in Jon’s pack.

Massive rock everywhere as we descended the West Rim Trail en route to Angel's Landing.

Looking down into Zion Canyon and the Virgin River. (Note the climbers near bottom in the crack of the wall)

Shortly after, about 12.5 miles into the 14.5-mile West Rim Trail, we reached the spur for the noteworthy Angels Landing trail. Because I had hiked Angels Landing on a previous trip, I opted to sit this side trip out, while Jon and Todd, and Mark and his wife and daughter hiked to Angel’s Landing.

This photo shows the trail to Angels Landing, and Angels Landing itself.

Standing with the speedy hikers, Mark Fenton and Carl Schueler.

Our wonderful support crew, near Angels Landing, including Lisa and Skye Fenton and Amy.

After a good rest, I headed down the remaining two miles into Zion Canyon to the Grotto picnic area. There, Mark Godley greeted Todd, Jon and I with sandwiches and raisin and oatmeal cookies I had made. And let me tell you, this real food hit the spot.

Next up: a 2,500-foot climb up, and several more miles of hiking to meet up with the East Rim Trail, which would lead to the trek’s finish at the Park’s East Entrance. I think it was about 7:30 p.m. when we caught one of Zion’s free shuttle buses up the road to the Weeping Rock Trailhead. Remaining distance to the end of this walk in the park: 10.5 miles.

Once off the bus, Mark, Todd, Jon and I proceeded to climb several steep switchbacks before passing through the awesome and unique Echo canyon, and up, up, up before accessing the East Rim Trail. For a small bit, right before total darkness, we had a hard time remaining on the trail, which was marked by cairns on steep and uneven rock. We reached an elevation of about 6,500′.

Jon Dorn and Mark Godley pose for me as we start our ascent up the Observation Point Trail toward East Rim.

Looking into Zion Canyon from a couple miles up the Observation Point, en route to the East Rim Trail and the end.

By now, there was no more twilight so we had our headlamps on and despite the black sky, the almost-full moon lit up the ridgelines of what were very obviously massive walls and cliffs around us. I made a mental note to hike the East Rim Trail sometime in the daylight. I am pretty sure the sights are astounding.

At about six-and-a-half miles into our final stretch, we came across the stash of Gatorade that Mark G had earlier in the day cached for us. Grape Gatorade never tasted so good. With about four miles left, I told the others the news – that many of my previously-prospective blisters were now full-on open and/or torn actual problems, and that I was feeling the pain in my feet. I told them I was perfectly okay, but that they should go on ahead and that I was going to resort to listening to some music via my iPod to help me get the gumption necessary to finish this thing standing up.

I didn’t lie. My feet exploded with pain. Each step felt like I was walking on hot coals but with pins and needles also injected in between my toes, on my heels and on the balls of my feet. I’m not complaining; I’m used to blisters on my feet on these endurance hikes. And thankfully these didn’t pose problems until this point – four miles from the finish of a traverse hike across a national park. So, yes, I did choose to slow it down some, and to “dig deep” with the help of some inspirational music.

But, in the interest of full disclosure, it’s at this point of these hikes – the last few miles – that the experience becomes deeply spiritual for me. At this stage, it becomes for the first time clear that I will succeed in finishing. This makes me quite emotional. There are often tears. I shed them mostly in gratitude. I think of my husband, Jerry, and our three sons, and of their love and support. I think of my parents, and my sisters and brother and their families; of my extended family and the dear friendships and relationships that nourish and support me, and that make my life so rich. I think of the hard training I do so that I can participate in these unique endurance adventures when the opportunity comes along.

And, it is true, at this point, I’m physically exhausted, sleep deprived and due to the blisters on my feet, in serious pain. So, while I didn’t want to slow the boys down, and while I planned on being introverted as I listened to my iPod, I also wanted to be alone for the finish. The final stretch is quite personal for me.

The last four miles, which seemed more like ten miles, were surreal and beautiful. There was an almost-full moon that illuminated the sand and rocks that marked my trail, and made the slick rock to my left glow sharply white. Also worthy of noting is the fact that the final stretch drops some 2,000 feet through a Ponderosa forest. Once, a bat fluttered by my ear, and I could hear the sounds of night creatures stirring even over the soft playing of Beethoven and Enya in my ears. Stars were out as I marched, slow but deliberately, toward what would eventually be The End of this adventure.

With probably two miles remaining, I came to a water crossing. The guys were waiting there to see how I was doing and to let me know “there’s a huge gorge/waterfall to the right. Cross right near it.”

Wow. This sounded exciting. Sure enough, as I rock-hopped across, I looked to my right, down what was a rather significant gorge/waterfall. Suffice it to say you would not want to get disoriented or wobbly while catching a glimpse. (Turns out that this feature is Jolly Gulch.) And jolly, I was becoming, knowing I would soon be off my feet, and possibly even drinking a cold beer.

About an hour later, I was greeted by laughter and a bit of a tailgate party, complete with beers and bags of chips and, heck, even Twinkies, being offered by my fellow hikers, Mark, Jon and Todd. Yeehaw! While I skipped all the side trip hikes, I think with my gazillion, off-trail bathroom hikes, I may have closed in on 50 miles… But if I didn’t, who cares?

Todd, Jon and I, with celebratory beers. (Mark G was also there but snapped this photo)

After this traverse, I have a more intimate connection with Zion National Park. I will be inspired for weeks and months – forever – by the sights that I saw, the acquaintances I made with all the guys on our trip and our support crew, and as a result of having accomplished a physically demanding pursuit.

When I learned I’d be the only girl on the hike, I was a little worried. Mind you, it’s not that this is that unusual for me to be hiking with mostly boys. After all, I’m outnumbered in a similar way at home, where my husband and I live with our three sons and our male puppy.

I didn’t want to slow the group down, or be a liability to anyone. I was honored to be invited and to be permitted to tag along with these accomplished adventurers. And, I wanted to successfully complete the traverse.

The men were all gentlemen and I am better for making their acquaintances. They, and the conversations I shared with them, enriched my experience.

VIDEOS:
HOP VALLEY VIDEO:

WEST RIM TRAIL VIDEOS (6):

EAST RIM TRAIL VIDEO:

Queen of the dune?

We have three young sons, ages 11, 9 and 4. As toddlers, they all loved playing in the custom-built corner sandbox their Pa-Grandpa built in our backyard for them. When we go on beach vacations, the boys relish playing in the sand.

So it was a highlight when we spent the final day of our recent weeklong camping adventure in southwestern Utah in Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park. It was a hoot, not to mention spectacularly unique and beautiful.

All of my guys, in Coral Pink Sand Dunes.

For several hours, we ran, barefooted, knee deep at times, in the sand, up and down the giant dunes. We made “sand angels” and jumped full blast off the “cornices” that formed and quickly re-formed along the tops of the dunes. The kids marveled at how the breeze (gale force winds) “erased” our footprints and all evidence of our (high impact) presence within seconds.

Racing the boys up a dune.

Hayden, our 9-year-old son, with the help of his brothers, spelled his name out in huge letters, only to see it erased in a blink of an eye.

Even my husband and I felt like little kids again as we frolicked in the fine, red-orange sand with our sons and puppy.

Coral Pink Sand Dunes is the only major sand dune field on the Colorado Plateau, and is a unique geologic feature. The dunes are old — estimated to be 10,000-15,000 years old. They are formed from the erosion of coral pink-colored Navajo Sandstone surrounding the area. High winds passing through the notch between the Moquith and Moccasin Mountains pick up loose sand particles and then drop them onto the dunes because of the Venturi effect.

It was a team effort for our sons to spell the name of our middle son, Hayden.

The state park is located between the towns of Mount Carmel Junction and Kanab, south and west of U.S. Highway 89, in southwestern Utah.

VIDEO:

Here are blog posts for other adventures we enjoyed during our southwestern Utah camping adventure:
Goblin Valley
Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument
Kodachrome State Park

Family photo during our hike on the Panorama Trail.

This state park gets its name, Kodachrome, from a 1948 National Geographic Society expedition that named the area after its popular color film. Kodachrome State Park is known for its tall and colorful spires.

Almost 70 monolithic stone spires — called sedimentary pipes — jut out of red and orange desert-like environs. The colorful sandstone formations reveal 180 million years of geologic time.

Our 9-year-old and 11-year-old sons climb on the rocks.

Fin, our 4-year-old, doing the bear walk up a rock.

We enjoyed a couple of great hikes that started right near the campground. Our favorite was the Panorama trail, which is mostly level and takes you through a landscape that includes towering spires, Utah juniper and pinyon pine, signs of an earlier time in features like Indian Cave. Our boys’ favorites were Ballerina Spire and the Secret Passage.

Depending on how many spur trails you take, this could be a 6-mile hike. If you remain on the main trail without taking any of the side trips, I think it’s about a 3-mile hike. Either way, it’s level and fun and perfect for families, especially if you have young children and a puppy, like we do.

All of my guys in front of Indian Cave.

We spent a couple of hours having a picnic and just exploring and goofing off and relaxing near the trail to “Secret Passage.” Our three sons, ages 11, 9 and 4, could have played there all day long. There were interesting rocks to climb in and out of and to the top of, places to hide and caves to explore.

According to Wikipedia, geologists believe Kodachrome Basin State Park was once similar to Yellowstone National Park, home to several geysers and hot springs, which eventually solidified, full of sediment. Over, time, the Entrada sandstone surrounding the solidified geysers eroded, leaving large sand pipes — or, spires.

Picnic.

Kodachrome is perfectly situated for people looking to “base camp” in one awesome location with easy access to Zion National Park, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Capitol Reef National Park, Bryce Canyon National Park, and other great natural destinations in southwestern Utah.

The perfect day came to a perfect end when we had s’mores at our camp.

S'mores.

At the beginning of our trip, we enjoyed adventuring in Goblin Valley State Park, and en route to Kodachrome, we enjoyed a 6-mile hike to Calf Creek Falls in Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument en route to Kodachrome. After our stay at Kodachrome, we headed south a short distance to Coral Pink Sand Dunes. (Stay tuned for the upcoming post about Coral Pink Sand Dunes, which was yet another awesome adventure.)

Here’s a short video of how our last night at camp went at Kodachrome State Park:

Doing some kettlebell swings during some down time in Goblin Valley.

Normally I would take a reprieve from training during our family’s spring break. After all, I was getting some exercise. We hiked every day. But the hikes were fun and enjoyable — not “training” efforts.

The fact that in less than four weeks I will be hiking from North to South across Zion National Park — about 50+ miles including sidetrips — in a day — means I needed to get some training in during my trip.

No problem. Following our adventuring in Goblin Valley State Park, Jerry, and our 4-year-old son, Fin, took a nap. Wolf and Hayden, our older sons, explored a slot canyon while I did a core and kettlebell workout. In all, it took about 12 minutes to get pretty well worked over, with no sacrifice of family time.

Another day, after our hiking in Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, I did some body weight exercises in our campsite while Jerry and the boys built a fire.

On the final day of our trip, at Coral Pink Sand Dunes, I raced my sons up and down a huge sand dune. We ran, all out, up and down, only a handful of times. It was fun, and a heck of a workout to boot. (I think I’m still sore from that fun, “little” effort.)

I share this to prove that you don’t have to go to a gym, or deprive yourself of family time on a vacation, to get some high quality training in. (Thanks to my trainer and friend, Steve Bechtel, of Elemental Training Center, for influencing me in this regard.)

Kettlebell throws.

Goblet squats in a little slot canyon.

Racing our sons up a giant sand dune. (The winner gets extra s'mores.)

Our sons at the start of the Lower Calf Creek Falls hike.

The Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, which was set aside as a national monument in 1996, contains 1.9 million acres of land in southern Utah. There are three main regions: the Grand Staircase, Kaiparowits Plateau, and the Canyons of the Escalante.

Family photo in front of Lower Calf Creek Falls.

Our trip started in Goblin Valley State Park. On Day Three of our trip, we were going to be traveling along the north boundary of Grand Staircase-Escalante on our way to Kodachrome State Park. Even though we were only traveling through the Escalante area, we wanted to experience it more intimately than simply driving through it, which is how we experienced it a few years ago.

After only brief investigation it became clear that we would be remiss – nuts, even – if we didn’t hike to Lower Calf Creek Falls. The hike is three miles one-way (6 miles roundtrip), and the reward for hikers is big: a 126-foot, beautiful waterfall, at the head of Lower Calf Creek Canyon, which plunges into a perfectly round green pool. Its upper tier fall, which isn’t visible from the base of Lower Calf Creek Falls, is 88 feet tall, making the waterfall’s total height 214 feet. Hikers who want to see the upper fall can scramble about a mile further up to catch a glimpse.

Lower Calf Creek Falls is glorious. The “ribbon-like” waterfall is outlined with green and yellow colors from algae growing on the sandstone, which thrives on the waterfall’s year-round flow.

My boys, all five of them, enjoying a picnic at the waterfall.

We had big expectations for the hike, and our expectations were exceeded. Our almost-four-year-old son hiked the entire six miles with not too many complaints and after only a handful of bribes. His brothers, ages 11 and 9, were great “adventure leaders” on the hike.

Yeehaw! Our older sons, Wolf and Hayden, pose with the geocache they found.

I highly recommend this hike. The trail is wide and mostly packed dirt. It’s level and easy-going, beautiful, and includes 15 interpretive markers. A bonus are the pictographs hikers can glimpse on the massive, tall cliffs while hiking past interpretive marker #9.

Here’s a short video that shows you some of the scenery included in the Lower Calf Creek Falls hike, as well as a little bit of the geocaching adventure:

Stay tuned for upcoming blog posts about Kodachrome State Park and Coral Pink Sand Dunes.