Kids Lighten the Load on Rockies Hiking Trip : Two Boys Help Experienced Backpackers Get the Most From a Weekend in Colorado

We’d only hiked a quarter-mile when Hunter asked if we could go wading. To a child, it was a perfectly logical question. To me, it was a revelation. After years of what could only be called speed hiking and endurance backpacking with adult male-led expeditions, I knew instantly that I was going to like backpacking with kids. Within minutes, we had unbuckled our packs, kicked off our boots and stepped into Maroon Lake, a basin of cold mountain water just west of Aspen and within sight of Colorado’s trademark Maroon Bells mountains.

Late last August, my friend Bonnie and her sons Kelly (age 7) and Hunter (age 5) invited me to share this three-day adventure into Colorado’s high country. Bonnie, who worked for several years as a wilderness educator leading youngsters into the back country, had taken her kids on hikes since they were toddlers. Recently, the boys had graduated to backpacking. During our brief excursion, I--who do not have kids of my own--realized that backpacking with children is not only easier than most people think, it’s also more fun.

We began by planning the trip together. After much discussion, the kids chose the Maroon Bells--Snowmass Trail from a guidebook on Colorado trails. It was only two miles from Maroon Lake to Crater Lake, where we planned to camp, but the route presented some strenuous hiking because of an altitude gain of nearly 1,000 feet. We bought a topographic map published by the U.S. Geological Survey, and Bonnie showed the children how its contour lines scrunched together between the two lakes. That meant the trail was steep and would be harder to hike than walking over flat ground. Kelly and Hunter also helped plan the menu, shop for groceries and pack. When the day came, we drove from our homes in Colorado Springs to the town of Aspen, where we boarded a Roaring Fork Transit Agency bus for the 45-minute ride to popular Maroon Lake Campground. From there we started our trek.

It was a Kodachrome day in the Rockies, and the grassy meadow beyond the lake was brilliant with wildflowers. We stopped to count the butterflies and smell the blooms (some nearly shoulder-high to a child): red Indian paintbrush, yellow goldeneye, lavender bluebell and green gentian. Balancing our packs, we stepped across a brook and eventually found ourselves in a dense grove of quaking aspen. Both children walked quietly so they could hear the leaves flutter in the breeze. It was the last week in August, and some of the coin-shaped green leaves were already turning gold.

By noon, we’d gained enough altitude so the kids could look back down at Maroon Lake and try to estimate how far we’d come. Hunter said that this part of the trail was like climbing stairs. A sign erected by the National Forest Service warned hikers of changeable mountain weather and advised us not to try climbing the Maroon Bells themselves. These richly colored, conspicuously layered peaks, each rising to an altitude of more than 14,000 feet, are made up of crumbly sedimentary rock that poses dangers even to experienced mountaineers.

Farther on, the path wound around giant boulders, and Kelly went on ahead to scout out a shady place off the trail to stop for lunch. We pulled off our boots again--this time to check for blisters. Hunter was wearing the leather hiking boots his older brother had outgrown, and he giggled when Bonnie tickled his feet. Kelly had opted for high-top tennis shoes, which provided just enough ankle support for a short trip like this. We all drank from our plastic water bottles, and Kelly used his jackknife to prepare cheese and crackers. Hunter unzipped the side pocket of his backpack and brought out his teddy bear for a look around.

Hunter’s pack weighed in at just under nine pounds, about 20% of his body weight. He carried a change of clothes, rain gear, pajamas, sleeping pad and snacks. Kelly toted a few more items, but each child’s pack was light enough to prevent fatigue. Bonnie and I shouldered the tents, cooking gear and food.

Back on the trail, we admired bright red clusters of sumac berries and tasted the last of the summer’s crop of Lilliputian-size wild raspberries. Finally, we crested a glacial moraine made up of sharp, jumbled rocks and caught our first glance of Crater Lake. This tiny “hanging lake,” like the bigger Maroon Lake in the main valley below, had been formed by meltwater from a receding glacier.

The boys selected an established campsite about 300 feet from the water’s edge. Coming so late in the season, we had the place to ourselves. After helping set up the tents, Kelly and Hunter went fishing. Later, when I wandered down to the shoreline, Hunter proudly displayed his catch: a bug-like creature that thrilled him every bit as much as if it had been a cutthroat trout. Kelly helped his mom pump water out of the lake with a microporous filter. This useful device, which purified our drinking water, prevents giardia, a parasite that threatens the health of any back-country traveler who drinks untreated water.

As the sun disappeared behind the Maroon Bells, the purple-tinged mountains cast huge bell-shaped shadows onto the vertical climb of 14,018-foot Pyramid Peak across the valley. In the twilight we ate dinner, sipped hot chocolate and watched as millions of stars began to twinkle in the inky sky. Then we counted satellites and meteors. Soon Bonnie and the boys turned on their flashlights and headed for their perfectly pitched tent. I crawled into my sagging shelter (I never could put up a tent properly), hoping the skies would remain clear. I’d left the rain fly at home to save on weight.

When I emerged next morning, the crisp air was full of the clatter of jays who were already well into their day’s work. Bonnie prepared powdered milk and fired up the stove for coffee. A pair of chipmunks skittered around, chattering, and Hunter was sure they wanted some of his granola. It was hard for him not to feed them, but he knew it would ruin their diet.

After breakfast we hiked along the foot of the Maroon Bells to look at a waterfall whose lacy curtain of mist fell from what seemed an impossible height. The day passed quickly in a series of little discoveries that only children seem able to make. We cooked dinner with the sun still shining and turned in early.

After breakfast next morning we played near the water. Then we packed up, tidied the campsite, loosened our shoelaces and headed down the trail with Kelly in the lead.

It was much faster hiking downhill, and things went well almost to the end, when Hunter’s energy began to flag. Because his backpack weighed so little, Bonnie was able to carry it for him. By the time we reached our car, the 5-year-old had regained his plucky spirit. But during the four-hour drive home, both boys drifted off to sleep, dreaming, perhaps, of wilderness adventures to come.

GUIDEBOOK: Back Country With Children

A wilderness trek, whether for a day or a month, is a great opportunity to build family intimacy by sharing new experiences. The biggest challenge is not to overdo it, so start small. Choose a hike based on your children’s ages and their previous hiking experience.

Plan together. When kids are involved in all stages of planning, they know what to expect and are more likely to maintain their enthusiasm even when things don’t go according to plan.

Pack light. If your gear is more suited to car camping, try borrowing or renting lightweight equipment--especially for the children, who will outgrow everything in a year or two. You can often find just what you need at garage sales.

Leave no trace. Teach your kids low-impact camping. Stay on the trail; never cut corners on switchbacks. Camp in designated campsites or at least 200 feet from water. Pack out all garbage. Don’t pick wildflowers; leave them for others to enjoy. Loosen the reins. Allow the kids to test their limits under your supervision. Children learn by doing and quickly develop self-reliance in the outdoors.

Keep entertainment simple. Make up games such as looking for the smallest flower or the largest tree. Keep your eyes peeled for animal tracks. Try imitating the birdcalls you hear. Children who learn to observe and appreciate nature receive the gift of a lifetime.

Respect wild animals. Don’t feed the animals. If they become dependent on human food during the summer, they may starve to death during the winter. Keep all food and aromatic items (such as deodorant) in your camp kitchen and pitch your tent at least 100 feet away.

Be weather-wise. Wherever you go, be prepared for changing weather. Above 10,000 feet, snow can fall throughout the summer. Hail and high winds often accompany moving fronts, and lightning is particularly dangerous above tree line. Slather on sun block with an SPF rating of 15 or more. In any climate, insect repellent is a must. Don’t backpack with kids where water is unavailable.

Make safety a priority. Tie a whistle around each child’s neck to be blown only in case of emergency. Teach them that three toots is the international distress call. Carry a first-aid kit and know how to use it. Never travel more than a day’s walk from help. Learn how to purify drinking water by filtering, boiling and/or with chemicals.

Read up. Before your trip, consult one of the excellent books on backpacking with kids such as the Sierra Club’s “Starting Small in the Wilderness,” by Marlyn Doan.