A Families Adventure Keeps Rolling
Written for Shimano’s Beyond Gravel Magazine
It’s rained for a week straight in Seattle. Even though it is only the beginning of October, I am already sick of it. But wait! There’s sun in the forecast, a glimmer of light in the dark, wet tunnel of the impending Pacific Northwest winter. A few cold nights have dropped the snow level low enough to close off most gravel riding opportunities deep in the surrounding national forest, but anything close to sea level will still be open.
Even though it’s a school night, Wednesday, I start pulling out gear and preparing the bikes. Sun is a precious commodity this time of year, and we’ve got to take advantage of every bit we can still get. This forecast calls for a bikepacking trip for our family–my partner, my child and me. It’s a bigger excursion than our family has ever done before. Though the seven-mile ride to camp is small and simple to most, for our nine-year-old Kiddo, this ride
will be epic.
I spent my childhood searching for new trails, climbing through holes in chain link fences, looking for that great, new spot to ride. Most of the time, the singletrack only led behind some warehouse covered in crappy graffiti. But every once in a while, the hole became a portal into a whole new world. Like the day we rode our beater BMX bikes through the tall grass, along the river and under the railroad tracks to discover the hidden dirt bike track. That single day finally rewarded all those dead ends. It was the day when following faint paths and forgotten roads became a lifelong habit.
Now 20 years later, the life that those habits shaped is no longer just my own. My partner and I never envisioned that having a kid would stop us. Adventure became a way to raise our child.
When our Kiddo turned five, we took our first family bike adventure, a five mile ride up a washed-out dirt road to an abandoned campground. That trip set the tone for our adventures to come. It remains my child’s favorite bikepacking trip to date, which could be because it is the first and only trip we used a trail-a-bike. My kid didn’t seem to mind the cold wind and rain. We rode to camp, the sky cleared, and we slept under the stars. After a long wait as a parent, we were finally bikepacking.
As my kid grew beyond towing, our family upgraded to a tandem. This monster of a bike came with its own limitations, but brought us closer during the ride. The act of pedaling (or non-pedaling) directly contributed to the quality of the trip. If I struggled up a hill, all I had to do was ask for a little “turbo,” and all 65 pounds of kid would stand and surge up the hill. We were both contributing. We both felt accomplished when we made it to camp. In the four years since, the kid has shot up five inches, started riding solo, and can now finish a nine-mile ride without complaint.
Today, we head to the trailhead with three bikes loaded with overnight camping gear. Instead of a bedroll, the Kiddo’s handlebar bag has stuffed animals. The small seat pack has a change of clothes with a warm hat and mitts instead of a tent. Just like my child, we’re starting small. Mom and dad have the essentials on our overloaded bikes. The Kiddo’s job is to have fun. It’s our job to keep it that way. The gummy worms I snuck in the handlebar bag should help with that.
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As I struggle to strap the last of the packs to my bike, the Kiddo rips down the road from above and powerslides to a stop right in front of me. Rocks ping off my frame and bounce off the car. I look up with a giant grin, “You excited
for this?”
My partner smiles at me, “Just like dad…”
We pedal along the Dosewallips River, to the campground, six and a half miles up the road. Giant cottonwoods tower over us, their wet, stained leaves covering our path. The Kiddo rolls along with one hand on the bars, slowly, meticulously, experimenting with removing the other. Suddenly, both hands are off. I wonder if my child’s stomach swims with the same butterflies that lift me off my saddle.
About a mile from the campground we hit a wall. The sign next to the imposing pitch reads, “Do Not Stop Vehicle On Steep Grade.” We hop off and start walking. I chuckle as I say that this wouldn’t be bikepacking if we didn’t have to push. The top of this hill is the end of the climbing for the day. I notice the campground in the distance and release the Kiddo to find the best campsite.
We follow the skid marks that lead to the perfect, chosen spot.
Even though we’ve never been here, we are in a familiar place. The camp routine and responsibilities take over. The tent goes up, happy hour drinks pour into cups and our Kiddo disappears into the woods and up the river.
We are tired from the busy week, so with dinner eaten and darkness falling, we retire to the tent. Cuddling in warm sleeping bags, I read aloud to the Kiddo who lasts three pages before passing out. The end of the ride was hard for those little legs and 24-inch tires. I fall asleep happy knowing tomorrow follows the river almost completely downhill.
What the Kiddo lacked in climbing prowess is made up for in brakeless descending. At every loose corner I cringe, anticipating a wash out. Riding past the sheer drops into the gorge I practically close my eyes, not wanting to watch the tiny body plummet into nothingness. In reality, the rocks aren’t that loose and the road is pretty wide. Everything will be fine. But letting go of my fear for my kid…I am not ready for that and never will be. Just like that, way too soon, we see the gate blocking the road. There’s a mound of rock and dirt next to it to prevent cars detouring around it.
“DAD STOP!” the Kiddo yells. “While you and mom were getting the bikes ready yesterday, I was practicing something I want to show you.” My kid pushes to the top of the mound before mounting and bombing down the spine onto the road, straight through a mud puddle. There’s a huge splash followed by a long J-shaped skid. It’s laid down right next to a set of similar marks, secret practice from the previous afternoon. This will start happening more and more–the things that I don’t know about. But I am sure our family won’t stop making these trips together, reinforcing the Kiddo’s lifetime of bicycle adventures to come.
