I actually sang those words out loud this morning as we were blazing a trail through the mountains near Bell Canyon. Don't worry, nobody could hear my singing over Will's happy yelling.
I love the mountains. I love the rolling hills. Okay, sorry, I'll stop the song references. Really though, the mountains have always held a certain magic for me. Ever since I was a little girl watching my dad drum on the steering wheel to John Denver's greatest hits as our old blue station wagon wound it's way deeper and deeper into the Sierra Nevadas, I've been a bit giddy about visiting "the wild".
My heart always thrills a bit as I step off of pavement onto a dusty trail. Despite my heart feeling like it's about to burst in the middle of a steep grade, I always go back for more hikes. Why? Because I feel like I'm part of a beautiful secret whenever I emerge from a clump of trees into view of a sparkling, pure lake. At that moment all the work and sweat of getting there is worth it.
And now, I get to pass that love on to my son.
Riding in style on Daddy's back. He loved the view from his comfy seat!
Today we took Will on his first real hike. I loved watching him take in this new world from his lofty perch (his hiking backpack on daddy's shoulders). He was perfectly content to enjoy the ride and watch everything around him. He hardly complained at all (and who can blame him for complaining about branches that were hitting him in the face...oops) and absolutely loved playing in the dirt with all the rocks and sticks. Heaven for this little boy.
It was an empowering day, too. It helped me to realize that Graham and I can still get out and do a lot of activities that we enjoyed before Will joined our family. It was so fun, in fact, that I want to go camping this summer. We'll see how that turns out. Hopefully I don't regret my new-found enthusiasm.
Anybody up for a hike this summer?
