The Happy Start
The plan was to hike a long stretch of the Fremont River in Southern Utah from where it intersected with Rte. 12, until the next access point, which was the visitor center at Capitol Reef National Park. This was in the pre-GPS era. We had a simple topo map and a compass and estimated the hike at 12-14 miles. It was mid March and there was still snow on the ground. It was sunny and maybe in the mid 50s when we started hiking in the early afternoon. None of us had ever heard of anyone doing this particular hike before but it seemed like a fun challenge. The group consisted of me, my lab-mix puppy, Mokie, and two friends, Greg and Kim, who, like me, were wilderness guides leading trips for at-risk teenagers in Southern Utah. We were planning to hike quickly and be out before dark so we brought very little food and no extra clothes other than the fleeces we were wearing.
The River Crossings
The first 10 miles or so of the hike went well. As we hiked, the canyon became narrower and the walls steeper so we eventually reached a point where the trail was blocked completely by the vertical walls of the canyon, forcing us to cross the river. We took off our shoes and pants, held hands, grabbed the reluctant Mokie by the collar and crossed. The water was up to our mid thighs and the crossing was only 15 feet or so. It was incredibly cold, but we quickly put our pants and shoes back on and continued, only to find ourselves blocked again by the cliffs in another half mile or so, necessitating another river crossing, this time a little shorter, deeper and through faster-moving water. As we continued after the second crossing, we were confronted with the unhappy realization that the sun was setting. None of us were panicked since we figured we only had a couple miles at most left to hike, but we did start to feel a little urgency. So when we got to the third crossing, we decided to leave our shoes and pants on to save a little time. Now, my clothes up to my stomach were soaking wet and my feet were completely numb. So numb, in fact, that when we continued hiking after the third crossing, one of my shoes fell off and I did not notice for some time, forcing me to turn back and retrace my steps until I found my hiking boot.
The Last Straw
The fourth crossing was different than the first three. Firstly, it was now completely dark outside. Secondly, the cliffs were vertical, all the way down to the river, on both sides, meaning that we would have to float down the cold river for a ways until it looked like the cliffs receded a bit on the far side and we would be able to exit the river.
The Vote
We decided to vote before proceeding. We had three choices:
1) Head downriver, with the uncertainty of how many more crossings we would have to make and whether this fourth crossing was even manageable. We would have to float downstream, dragging Mokie, without knowing where the exact exit point would be.
2) Turn back, and hike 11 or so miles in the dark, including the three crossings.
3) Spend the night out.
We ended up opting for choice 3. We were all essentially numb from the waist down and the idea of more river crossings and the possible risk of frostbite ended up being the deciding factors. We walked back the trail until we found a slightly overhanging area at the base of the cliff, which was sort of protected from the wind. We were all wilderness guides and we all knew how to make bow-drill fires but we discovered that none of us had a knife (or a lighter) so we had no way to make a fire. We ate the few remaining scraps of trail mix, drank some water and huddled close together for a long, mostly sleepless night. In the morning, we marched on our numb feet, re-crossed the river three times and were almost back to Greg’s truck when we encountered the search and rescue team and our friends, who had alerted them after they realized that we hadn’t returned from our day hike.
How This Impacts the Way I Run Camp
The first and most obvious impact is the idea of preparation. I know that the Boy Scouts (and others) discuss this idea, but there is nothing like a night in the wilderness shivering to help you remember not to ever take safety for granted, even on short, simple hikes. Even if you’re just jumping in the canoe for a second, you still need your PFD on always. Even if it’s a short hike, we still always need the first aid kit. Even if you think the hike will take an hour, let’s prepare like we could possibly be out for the night. It’s one thing to read about preparation in a Boy Scout manual. It’s a different thing to feel the consequences that a simple mistake can lead to.
Resilience, Grit, Trying New Things, Learning to Fail
I hope it goes without saying that campers will not be spending a night out in the cold at camp like I did. But what they will be doing hopefully is going a bit outside their comfort zone, trying things they have never tried and by doing so, building up their confidence and resilience. I think the true art of running a summer camp lies in the way the program is structured so that kids will have the opportunity for real uncertainty, real agency (i.e. they are the ones making the decisions), but with enough structure and flexibility so that campers are safe. There must always be supervision, but supervisors need to know when to take a step back and let kids figure something out for themselves (how to set up a tent, how to cook a meal outdoors). One of my favorite writers on the subject of experiential education is Simon Beames, who lists 4 key elements to a true adventure: authenticity, agency, uncertainty and mastery. I recommend his book, Adventurous Learning, for anyone who wants to know more detail than I can provide in this short article.
Here is a concrete example of how uncertainty and agency might work on a camp-led canoe trip. Let’s say campers have been involved in the planning of the trip and have chosen a destination campsite for the night. Maybe in real world conditions, paddling has been slower than expected and darkness is falling and we do not know whether we will make it to the campsite before dark. We would gather as a group and discuss options. There is real uncertainty. We do not know if we will make it to the designated campsite. But since we are experienced, we know that we will be OK and we will find a place to sleep for the night even if we can’t make it to our expected destination. Or maybe we will choose to paddle at night until we make it to the destination if this can be done safely and each member of the group agrees to it. Here the agency is important: campers are choosing their adventure. They aren’t passive participants. Even with some outdoor activities that are exciting, such as guided white-water rafting, there may be little to no agency. The guide steers, the guide determines the exact put-in and take-out spots. There may be fun and excitement, but there’s not much learning or real adventure in that scenario.
Conclusion – Send Us Your Children – We’ll Help Them Learn to Fail
I read an interesting article a few days ago, which suggested that helicopter parenting actually works. Without going in to all the logical leaps and oversimplifications in the article, I would respectfully argue that this conclusion is incorrect. Helicopter parents by definition are ones who don’t know when to step back and let their children succeed or fail on their own and as a consequence, those children are the ones who are more likely to crumble when they encounter real challenges. At a camp conference a few weeks ago I attended two great sessions, one led by Ryan Babineaux, who wrote a book called Fail Fast, Fail Often: How Losing Can Help You Win. His main point is that it is worthwhile to try new things constantly and to understand that we will initially be bad at first, but that is how we learn, grow and get better. The other session was led by Gerry Valentine, who spoke about the importance of resilence. I couldn’t agree more with both speakers. My hiking trip on the Fremont River was a failure on many levels and it is one that I remember frequently to help run the best camp I possibly can.