Hiking with a Threenager 101 — The Wee Wanderer

The ultimate test of how much you love doing something is whether you’re willing to do it with a three-and-a-half-year-old. Apparently, I really like shopping at Michael’s and hanging out in beer gardens. Cooking spicy food? Staying out past 7pm? Nope and Nope. (Sorry, Travis.)

This past summer, it became painfully clear that hiking with lil’ Levi “Hold Me!” Menaul was going to require some extra strategizing (and major balls, but I’ll get to that later). We had enjoyed an excellent 3-year run of it: toting our 10-, 20-, even 30-pounder up mountains had pretty much been a breeze. But, now that our 40-pound threenager has solid opinions (he wants to play cars all day long every day forever) and words with which to express them, a breeze it is no longer. He can usually eek out a complaint-free mile. Two miles on his own feet is definitely pushing it. So, by September, we had to make a decision: Could we find a way to keep hiking? Or would our favorite pastime be kicked to the curb for the next decade, like chili powder and our social lives?

We decided that hiking was something we loved enough to keep doing. Even though – and this is key – doing it with our threenager would mean that sometimes, our dignity would suffer a blow. Here is where the balls come in. We recently forded a river with Levi napping in the stroller. And yes, there were onlookers. If that visual doesn’t scare you off, keep reading to find out what we’ve learned about how to hike with a child who would rather be doing something else.

Pushing the weight limits on the Osprey Pack at Snoquera Falls

Get a mule. If your kid’s not going to walk on his own, and you want to travel more than 80 feet, you need to bring in reinforcements. Is your child light enough to carry in a backpack? Do you have a stroller that can handle off-roading? Or, do you happen to have an actual mule? (I’ve thought about acquiring a pack animal many times, you guys, so no judgment if you went there.) Whatever your fancy, examine the fine print.
We carried Levi in our Osprey Poco until he was about 10 pounds over the weight limit, and although he seemed comfortable, it was absolute torture for the wearer, and super embarrassing whenever we ran into anyone. (I will never, ever forget the look on Travis’s face the final time we hoisted Levi onto his back in the Osprey. It was our last day in the Sawtooth Mountains on our 9th wedding anniversary, and any doubts he ever had about becoming a “family man” were strikingly apparent on his face. But I digress.)

Levi’s final ride in the Sawtooth Mountains

After admitting defeat with our carrier, we turned to our B.O.B. stroller. At first, pushing a stroller on a trail seemed a bit ludicrous. It probably still does to you. But, beggars can’t be choosers, and the stroller has allowed us to cover a lot of miles in year 4. (The weight limit on this beast is 75 pounds, you guys! That’s the average weight of a ten-and-a-half-year-old!) The biggest downside has been the temporary loss of dignity, every time we run into a mainstream hiker on the trail. Because, let’s be honest: When you have a massive stroller, you might as well bring lots of stuff. So, it isn’t just the fact that you’re chauffeuring your large child through the woods like a prince that is embarrassing (and it is), but the fact that your rig is brimming with evidence -- Starbucks cups, Matchbox cars, general garbage, what have you -- that you can no longer travel light.

Come up with a quip. You will need something to say when you run into ordinary people while doing something embarrassing. “Nothing to see here, folks!” “A few more years and he’ll be pushing me in this thing!” “Gotta do what we gotta do!” You get the idea. Something that will let other people know you know that what you’re doing is ridiculous. Like fording a river, tackling a steep incline, or hiking through mud in the pouring rain with a stroller, leaving a trail of Cheddar Bunny crumbs in your wake. I was once upbraided by another toddler on the trail. I was carrying over-the-weight-limit Levi in my Osprey pack on Mount Rainier, when this little boy saw us coming and said, “He should walk!” At that time, I could manage nothing more than a lame: “I know, right?!?” You’re going to need a quip, you guys.

Bring stuff. Like, all the things. You’re already going to look kind of silly, so why not go big?

· Snacks. Pack an inordinate amount. I obey no rules of health when I’m on the trail, and I recommend that you do the same: Cheddar Bunnies! Ritz Crackers! M&Ms! Bring it on, people! Extra treats make the hike special, and maximize quiet time. Remember: this experience is all about you. Throw them a bone. Oh, and lots of water to counteract the insane amount of sodium in all the crap you’re feeding your kid today.

· Toys. A true Northwesterner, Levi loves his gear: binoculars, magnifying glass, compass, thermometer. These material objects make the experience different and exciting.

· Layers. I always bring the rain fly for the B.O.B. and a blanket for a possible stroller nap. Comfort is the name of my game. (Travis would want me to share his philosophy, which is that humans are a bunch of softies, and we should all learn to steel ourselves a bit more. I choose to disregard this and all other wisdom when it comes to hiking with a threenager.)

· Fold-Up Potty. When they gotta go, they gotta go. And if you’re fording a river, chances are you’re going to be outside for a lot of hours. They’re going to have to go #2. Yes, we bring a potty, and yes we pack it all out.

Choose a reasonable destination. Levi loves finding things. Fine scenery is just not his jam right now. But a ghost town? Rusty old bus? Boardwalk? These are some destinations he can get behind:

· Monte Cristo Ghost Town: This was our first true stroller hike, and I really, really recommend it, but only if you have two adults going. You do have to cross a river, but it is very easy with a partner. There is a short technical section toward the beginning and a rocky section in the middle where you’ll wonder about your sanity, but practice your quip, and remind yourself that it’s like this or not at all right now. The ghost town is really cool; there’s even an old railway turntable that you can operate. I mean, no one said we couldn’t operate it. So, we did. The trailhead is on the Mountain Loop Highway, and we camped out along the road the night before to get an early start. A very fun, highly satisfying weekend for all. (8 miles round trip, plus any exploring you do at the townsite)

Our first legit stroller hike to the Monte Cristo Townsite. Success!!

· The Bus Trail on Tradition Plateau: I read about this trail in my Bible, Best Hikes with Kids: Western Washington, by Susan Elderkin. Levi loves vehicles of any kind, and the rusty old dilapidated bus on the side of the trail did not disappoint! You don’t need a stroller if you’re just going to the bus and back (it’s only .7 miles, roundtrip), but if you take the off-road stroller, you can hike for miles around the north side of Tiger Mountain. There are a lot of really root-y sections around Tradition Lake. All totally doable, and Levi found the bumpy terrain hilarious. But this trail, though super easy for the solo hiker, is not for the faint of heart when strolling. (.7 – 3.5 miles)

· Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge: The Billy Frank, Jr. Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge is one of my favorite place in the world. Everything about it makes me happy. The scenery, the wildlife, the nerdy birders. . . Travis is sick of it by now, so whenever he’s out of town, I take Levi on a mother-son pilgrimage. This is the perfect first stroller hike, if you want to test your system. The majority of the trail is boardwalk, you guys. You will definitely not be the only person with a mule out there. Unless you have an actual mule. Levi happens to love bridges, and this entire trail is technically a bridge. (5 miles)

Escorting Prince Levi down the Nisqually boardwalk

Don’t take yourself too seriously. Ever anyway, but especially when hiking with a threenager. When you’re doubting yourself as you’re handing out a third serving of crackers or securing a bag of poop to your stroller, just remember that you could be at home watching yet another episode of Daniel Tiger or playing cars on the living room floor. Again. But you’re not. You’re out there. One way or another, you’re doing it! And know that you won’t be doing it this way forever. (I assume?) And hey – maybe one day he will be pushing you in that thing!