Living 1300 miles from the grandbaby, I don't get to see many firsts. Lucky for me that I'm here in Wyoming and got to participate in one. Matthias went on his first backpacking trip.
He rode the four miles to our camping site on his mom's back. That is, he was more of a backpack than a backpacker, but nonetheless he was a trooper. He seemed to adapt seemlessly to living outdoors and in a tent (though he's delighted to be back home and crawling among familiar objects). The campfire held a great fascination needless to say and he tried to climb every boulder in the rather boulder strewn area where we camped. Sleeping was no problem though he didn't stay in his "sleeping bag," a down vest with the neck and arm holes duct taped together.
My son and I left camp in the morning and went further up and further in, all the way to Thumb Lake at 11,000 feet. The sky was bright blue and the lake was crystal clear and surrounded by cliffs at the end of a cirque. Magnificant! Then we went down to Island Lake for a bit of fishing.
It won't be long before Matthias, now age 14 months, is boulder hopping up to Thumb Lake with us. Soon he'll outpace us and wonder why we're so slow. And I fully expect that he will catch the most and the biggest fish on any expedition we take together.
Someone said that grandchildren are the reward for old age, kind of a consolation prize. They're also one more reason to stay in shape, remain active, and look for ways to enjoy more firsts together.
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