Lord Have Mercy

We took our first camping trip with the munchkin this weekend, and I have just three words: Lord have mercy.

Don’t get me wrong – we had a blast. The little guy was a trooper for the long drive, and he was beside himself with glee to have so much outdoor space to run around in. But if you go camping with a toddler who has just barely learned to walk, yet thinks he can run, and puts everything (and I mean everything) in his mouth, you had better not be a clean freak or a germophobe.

Luckily, I am neither of those things (as my mom knows all too well), so we got along just fine. Of course, the weather could have been better, but we’re from the Wet Coast. We’re experts in tarp hanging, rain gear, hot soup and extra socks.

With an overnight downpour, what was once dirt became mud, and the Captain was no less eager to run around the campground. His jumpy little legs would not tolerate playpen confinement, but if we tried to keep him inside the tent, he would have bounced off the walls until the whole thing came down. So we cut him loose.

He ran, and tripped, and rolled, and ran again. Within minutes he was covered in mud, sap and pine needles. Four pairs of pants for two days of camping are not nearly enough for my Captain Muddybum.

On the second day of our trip, we braved unpredictable weather and embarked upon a hike. In a very uncharacteristic move, I had not researched the trail except to know that it was popular and the views were spectacular. Apparently I have been away from any real mountains for far too long – I assumed that the hike couldn’t be more than about two hours each way.

Three hours later, we emerged from a section of trees and could finally see the peak to which we aspired. It was so far away that I wondered if it was the same mountain.

“Is that where we’re going?” I asked with some dismay.

“Well, I’m certainly not,” grumbled my husband. To his credit, he had been carrying the munchkin the entire way, despite my offers to share the load. Our little one is not so little anymore.

A few minutes later, we met a couple in their fifties making their descent. They looked quite fresh and not too sweaty (unlike us), so we were encouraged. The kind man told us that we only had about a mile to go. Figuring that even at a crawling pace up a steep trail, one mile couldn’t take us longer than twenty or thirty minutes, we soldiered on. Maybe the peak we saw wasn’t the right peak after all.

An hour later, we still had not reached the top. Some overly cheerful trail runners assured us that we were almost there, to which my husband replied, “Yeah, they told us that an hour ago.”

The Captain, however, was a superstar. He slept part of the way, rapped part of the way (yes, he baby raps – “bikka, bikka, wah-wah, bidda bidda, ba-bah” – it’s very funky), and gleefully kicked his daddy’s back for most of the hike. We stopped every few kilometres to let him explore the trail, learning that approximate hike times are very different when a baby is involved.

We finally reached the summit only to discover that there was a highway allowing carloads of tourists to drive up the mountain. It is always a little disheartening to reach the top of a gruelling trail only to find 80-year-olds with canes and teenagers in flip-flops at the top.

But another part of me was relieved at the sight of a road. I was trying to figure out if there was another way down besides hiking. Was there a shuttle? Could we hitchhike? Could my husband hitchhike, go get the car, and pick us up?

But no. I am a BC girl. The mountain would not defeat me. We took some time to enjoy the views, ate some overpriced chocolate and refilled our water bottles. Down we went.

Our little one napped and rapped and kicked and babbled all the way down. It didn’t rain, and we were fortified by a steady supply of caffeine and sugar, thanks to the café at the summit.

We were exhausted and starving by the time we reached our camp, but all three of us were nearly giddy from our mountain adventure. It had been far too long since we conquered a trail like that.

Anyone have a job for me on the West Coast? I want to move back.