So for our family vacation this summer, in addition to spending some time in the Shenandoah, we went camping for a long weekend in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to Porcupine Mountain State Park.

Our connection to Porcupine Mountain began the summer Simon was born.

Taido loaded up the three big kids + one cousin and took them all camping there. He drove our mini van (pulling a flat bed trailer full of gear) all the way up to the north of the north of the north.

To Lake Superior.

It was 2006.

The barefoot child in the above photo just graduated from college.

15 years ago, these four ran and played and swam and threw rocks…

And experienced the joy of being in this beautiful place.

While I was at home nursing a baby, they climbed through forests and made trails over their own little mountains.

They even enjoyed a little (probably enforced) camp chill time.

They walked the long staircase every day to stand in the freezing cold lake, and to watch the sunset.

And then they drove back home and told me all about it.

But I forgot about this place I had never been to.

Until 15 years later, Taido suggested we go there again. He said it would be cooler in the summertime, and that the drive would be shorter since we don’t live in Arkansas.

So a plan was made.

A long weekend in July was marked off on the calendar.

And off we went.

Again there were four kiddos. Much bigger this time.

And a different set of kids, save Ben.

We drove to the north of the north of the north and escaped the hot summer sun.

We walked the same long stairway down to Lake Superior.

We hiked the same trails.

And found ourselves in the middle of quiet woods.

And alongside waterfalls.

The kids crawled over rocks.

They sat by the river and watched the water flow by.

Now that the kids are older, sometimes we left them back at camp and went on morning hikes while they were still asleep in their sleeping bags.

We walked along the river in the cool shadows before the sun was high.

And we pondered how it is possible that piles of rocks can be so gorgeous.

When the kids were awake we drove as far north as we could go.

And everyone at least touched the ocean-like lake, and some brave folks got all the way in.

And then more hiking!

Porcupine Mountain State Park has miles and miles of beautiful trails.

This trail above The Lake of the Clouds might have been our favorite.

But it’s hard to choose! We also loved the river hike along the waterfalls.

And we enjoyed not having to watch little guys so closely.

I remember when Taido came home in 2006 and he showed me pictures of the giant staircase down to the lake, I thought that if I had been there, I might have been a little nervous about the kids camping up so high. Of course, this time I didn’t even think about the kids running down to the lake on their own.

Though I was still tempted once or twice to tell Ben to be careful.

And after hiking and swimming, we had a little camp chill time.

Napping + Outside = Dreamy Summertime.

This time, no one had to be forced to nap.

We had no cell service at our campground. Such a rare gift in 2021, y’all.

My niece Emily let all the cousins use her drawing materials.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I saw these boys drawing.

And just like in 2006, we went down to the lake every night to watch the sun drop below the horizon.

The colors were different each night.

It’s amazing how the sunset happens every day but is never the same.

And of course, the kids still got their shoes wet.

And they still spent hours skipping rocks.

Our sweet camping trip reminded me again and again that you’re never too old to play in the sun.

I found this passage about teaching kids to love the outdoors in a Mary Oliver book of essays recently that I just love:

Teach the children. We don’t matter so much, but the children do. Show them daisies and pale hepatica. Teach them the taste of sassafras and wintergreen. The lives of blue sailors, mallow, sunbursts, the moccasin flowers. And the frisky ones — inkberry, lamb’s-quarters, blueberries. And the aromatic ones — rosemary, oregano. Give them peppermint to put in their pockets as they go to school. Give them the fields and the woods and the possibility of the world salvaged from the lords of profit. Stand them in the stream, head them upstream, rejoice as they learn to love this green space they live in, its sticks and leaves and then the silent, beautiful blossoms.

Attention is the beginning of devotion.

(from Upstream)

My little kiddos grew up so fast (just like everyone told me that they would.)

This camping trip was a blessed pause, a moment to see that yes, I think we did give them the field and the woods.

I hope we showed them the possibility of the world salvaged from the lords of profit.

And I will always rejoice as they learn to love this green space they live in, its sticks and leaves and then the silent, beautiful blossoms.

A few details for if you go to Porcupine Mountain:

There are two campgrounds in Porcupine Mountain State Park: Presque Isle and Union Bay. Both of our camping trips were at Presque Isle (no electrical hook-ups + pit toilets), but we drove one day to Union Bay, and it is lovely as well. Reservations are accepted (and recommended) at both campgrounds. There are also several great-looking backcountry sites, which we have our eye on for a return trip. The closest town to Presque Isle is Wakefield, which was a good 30 minutes away, so stock up on ice and firewood when you drive through there on your way.

The post Porcupine Mountain State Park in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula appeared first on Alison Chino.

This summer when we were hiking a portion of the Appalachian Trail in the hot June sun, we came across two trail angels waiting at a spot in the road where the trail crossed Skyline Drive, the road that runs the length of Shenandoah National Park. .

A lady was sitting on the tailgate of her black pick-up truck. In front of her were four chairs set up, the kind you bring to a soccer game or a fireworks show. The lady’s father was sitting in one of the chairs, and in front of him was a large cooler filled with cold drinks of all kinds: sodas, sparkling water, gatorade, iced tea. 

Help yourself to a drink, the lady encouraged us as we came out of the woods and onto the road.

Have a seat if you want.

Another hiker had arrived before us and was sitting in one of the chairs having a drinking a soda. When you’ve only been sitting on the ground for days, weeks or even months if you’re backpacking the whole 2000 miles of the Appalachian Trail, a chair is a luxury.

As we gulped down cold drinks, the lady offered us ziplock bags of homemade salted caramel brownies. She had another bag filled with fruit. Decadent treats after we’d been gnawing on energy bars for days.

The lady’s father told us he used to hike these trails all the time. But now he can’t hike them anymore, so his daughter helps him come back as a trail angel, and he gets to feel close to the trail again, to experience the energy and the joy of hikers passing through. And to offer a little respite. 

Kandace and I have encountered the magic of many trail angels along our various hikes.

On the Ouachita Trail in December, we came across jugs of water left in places where the water is scarce.

We’ve passed folks who were in the middle of weed-eating a trail or cleaning up a trail shelter. We’ve seen fallen logs that were cut into pieces and moved out of the way, and we’ve found cans of beer left for the taking.

And sometimes we have been visited by our own personal trail angels.

And after several days of hiking through icy rivers, we enjoyed a visit from my sweet friends Carol and Connie. They hiked towards us from a trailhead one day to meet us for lunch, and we were overjoyed to see them.

They had gotten up super early to drive up to where we were, and they had packed an elaborate trail picnic that the four of us enjoyed together. Carol pulled out real dishes, silverware and cloth napkins from her backpack. Into the bowls, she scooped generous portions of a gorgeous Mediterranean Quinoa Salad. We had pieces of cheese and sandwiches. Then Connie pulled out a wrapped present for me, a balm for my blistered feet! They also had homemade cookies and little bottles of whiskey for us to take with us.

It’s been months since that picnic lunch now, but I can still remember how good that food tasted, how we laughed as we ate and how we tried to stay seated for as long as possible in the little sliver of sun that was almost keeping us warm.

But soon we were cold enough that we needed to get moving again. After we packed everything up, Carol and Connie walked the miles back with us to their car before we said goodbye and they drove all the way back to Little Rock, leaving us with the leftovers and the gift of their sweet presence. 

My dad also joined us on the Ouachita Trail, providing trail support by driving on old logging roads to find us. He fixed us dinner (shrimp and grits) and made hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps. He drove our packs around to the next stop so we could hike without them. We easily covered twice the miles we could have if we had been wearing them.

Some days Dad even met us for lunch or with a thermos of hot coffee to warm us up and help us keep going. After each of these encounters, Kandace and I walked faster, lighter and with a bit more spring in our step. 

It’s an understatement to say that our personal trail angels lifted my spirits and helped me keep going.

It would be more accurate to say that the folks who provided these kindnesses actually walked many of my steps for me by their generosity, often arriving at times I felt I could barely carry on.

A couple of days before we met Carol and Connie, I had badly twisted my ankle and was struggling through the miles with a bandana tied around it. I had been moving slow for two days, but Kandace and I got up and started walking before dark the morning that we knew they were coming. We walked faster because we were anticipating spotting them at any moment.

(I felt a similar way when I walked the Coast to Coast with Diane on the day I knew that Taido and the kids were joining us.)

Stripped of most of the comforts we normally enjoy in life and pushed to the physical limits of enduring the cold or the heat of the day, it’s amazing how coming across a few gallons of water left by someone can seem like such a treasure. It can make you believe in the goodness of humans, and give you hope for hours of walking. 

I have always said I love to eat when I am camping or backpacking because everything tastes so much better outside. When your dad hands you a hot cup of coffee on a 29 degree morning, you’ve never tasted coffee so good. Ditto for hot scrambled eggs. 

It’s why I love spending time in the woods, with only what I can carry. It reminds me in the most tangible way possible of how little I truly need. 

Something to eat, water to drink. A bit of shelter from the rain. 

When I receive something from a trail angel that I haven’t had to carry on my back, I am profoundly grateful.

Cold water in the hot sun and a hot drink on a cold day are precious treasures in the backcountry.

May cookies always taste as good as they do when they’ve been brought to you by a friend in the middle of a long hike. 

The post Trail Angels appeared first on Alison Chino.

The numbers of those who are sick continue to grow.

As do the number of protestors.

Some days all I can see is that the sick are forgotten and the protestors are gassed.

It seems insignificant to say this amidst so much turmoil, but I cancelled another trip this week.

And I finished packing up our house for another move.

These short sentences do not even scratch the surface of the sadness of this summer.

But they also do not reflect the hope.

Or the light.

When the darkness in the world feels newly oppressive, and it reaches further than I previously realized,

I take a deep breath, I lament.

And then I let my eyes light onto joy.

I have found myself wondering what we will remember when we look back on the summer of 2020.

So for my own heart, I want to make a small record of the things I don’t want to forget.

The light, the hope and the joy.

Here’s what I have so far:

Picture book puffy clouds in a bright blue sky.

Riding with the windows down to Arkansas and back again >>> Sun-burned arm and wind-blown hair.

Sunrises while driving. The one that was pink and sprawling, covering every direction I looked. And the one was gray and yellow and blue, breaking through a hazy fog that covered the road for the better part of an early morning drive.

Fields and highway shoulders full of yellow flowers.

Seeing the (long overdue) removal of a Confederate monument in Little Rock

Protesting on Juneteenth with my brother in my hometown

Seeing the George Floyd Memorial in Little Rock

Getting a weekend of hiking in with Taido while Simon was away.

Giant ferns covering the trails.

Hiking up to sweeping views of the Mississippi River.

And back down through every possible shade of green.

Eating many, MANY rice bowls with hummus, vegetables and beet kraut or kimchi. Our most regular + simple quarantine meal.

Returning to the Oh-Be-Joyful Recreation Area in Colorado.

Being flooded with memories and making new ones.

Hiking in Aspen groves with dear friends.

Spotting Columbines (the Colorado State flower) in the woods, usually hiding, but always a delight to find.

Visiting a longtime favorite bookstore.

Camp 4 Coffee.

Teocali Burritos.

Playing games around the campfire.

Climbing to the top of Mt. Crested Butte and then riding the lift down.

Celebrating with pizza or burritos and drinks after long days of hiking.

Soaking sore feet in the cold river water.

How much better food tastes when you’ve been outside all day.

Remembering that I love to sleep outside, with rushing water nearby.

The star-filled night sky.

Watching Simon climb mountains all day and read by the fire at night.

Taido waking us up in the dark to climb.

Hot coffee in a familiar blue enamel cup.

Watching the moon and the sunrise while driving to a trailhead.

Long last day of climbing.

The slow, methodic meditation of one step after the other.

Counting out 100 steps. Then 75. Then 50.

Remembering to just breathe.

Slowly reaching the shoulder.

And then getting to the top of Mt. Shavano.

Being above 14,000 feet, on top of the world.

Feeling shaky and scared looking down.

Remembering other climbs in younger days (on younger knees).

Packing up camp and heading home with sore legs, tired feet and new Colorado memories.

Listening to Simon talk about climbing mountains while driving long stretches of highway.

Receiving the beautiful book Braiding Sweetgrass in the mail from a friend and fellow hiker/nature lover, and soaking it up as a perfect follow up to my weeks in the woods.

So. Many. Gifts.

This week, I started walking together with a group of ladies through the body practices from My Grandmother’s Hands via Zoom.

Next week we move to a new duplex across town, and then the next week Simon returns to online schooling.

So even though the heat is hanging on, I will release summer for now, and look ahead to what comes next.

Whatever comes, I will not forget that each day (and each season) holds a kind of secret gift, but kind of like a Colorado Columbine, it seems I have to be looking for them.

The post Summer (Oh Be) Joyful appeared first on Alison Chino.

A Beloved Arkansas Campground

Dear Longpool,

Just the other day I was going through a box of old photos (a winter project suitable for a string of days of sub-zero temperatures).

I came across this sweet photo of our three oldest kiddos on our first camping trip to your perfectly situated riverside campsites.

It was a gorgeous Arkansas autumn weekend in 2005, the kind you dream about when you plan a fall camping trip but that you hardly ever get. (Many fall weekends end up being colder than usual or more rainy than sunny.)

The temps that weekend were cool enough for jeans and fires at night, but so warm and sunny during the day that the kids dared each another to swim.

The leaves were dazzling shades of yellow all around. We hiked campground trails, skipped rocks into the river, climbed giant boulders, and sat in the sunshine enjoying the views.

At night, we read one of the Chronicles of Narnia out loud around the campfire. Long days of playing hard outside meant the kids fell asleep quick in their sleeping bags at night. Then the adults sat up late visiting around the fire, staying until it was just embers and coals and we longed for the warmth of our own sleeping bags.

Longpool, you gave us such a perfect weekend on that first visit that we came back again and again. Soaking up our old memories and making new ones.

We returned with more families and friends to try to catch the leaves turning the perfect shades of yellow again.

We came back after our youngest was born, and my husband and I took turns carrying him around in a baby backpack. It was colder that year and I remember digging out every scrap of extra clothing I brought to keep our daughter’s friends warm.

She had brought several girlfriends and they spent their days making a clubhouse on an outcropping that they tended to all weekend. Their sweet giggles made me smile.

The boys dared each other back into the river, even though it was cold.

I loved nothing more than watching my kids play outside when we were camping. Far away from TV and video games, before any of them had a phone, they had only trees and rocks and dirt. And sticks. Sticks for beating the ground and using as swords. And then sticks for the fire and for roasting marshmallows.

Our son, Ben, called marshmallows “marshalotes” when he was little, and he would always ask for “one last marshalote.”

(He always had too many.)

My husband would make pancakes for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch and various stews for dinner. Then he lead everyone on hikes and across the river to climb the rocks.

We came back in the winter the year after we bought our pop-up camper. We moved to a different loop of the campground to take advantage of the electrical hook-ups. The temperatures were below freezing, but we had a little space heater so we could thaw out at night after hiking in the cold all day. We had to stay moving to keep warm that winter weekend.

Now it’s been many years since I’ve set up camp in one of your loops or kept warm near one of your metal fire circles.

My three oldest have grown up and left home. It’s been a long time since I saw one of them ride a bike around a campground loop.

I can’t remember the last time one of them brought me something they found in nature, a rock or a stick. A frog or a bug.

Longpool, I’m grateful you have so many of our Chino Family memories stored in the earth there. I’m glad that the trees, rocks and river have collected the laughs of my children.

I think any one of them could return to spend some time in your woods and recall fondly the hours they played there.

Thank you for providing a place for their simple, pure, unadulterated joy.

Hold onto it for them, Longpool. I think they will need it some day.

In awe and gratitude,

Alison

The post A Love Letter to Longpool appeared first on Alison Chino.

We went camping at Starved Rock State Park a couple weeks ago for Simon’s fall break and I remembered that one of my favorite rooms with a view is this tent.

It’s true. Seeing the trees RIGHT THERE when my eyes open is one of the surest ways I know to wake up happy.

Also I love the boys being outside on their bikes and running around.

Of course camping with middle schoolers also looks like phones around the campfire.

We spent most of Saturday hiking around the state park. The trails at Starved Rock have tons of wooden walkways built above the ground to protect the ecosystem.

So fancy. You don’t even really get muddy.

The trails have lots of lookouts over canyons and gorges.

Everything was still so green and lush. Leaves were just beginning to change here and there.

But mostly it was all green and blue.

Starved Rock is right on the Illinois River.

Some of the trails run right along the riverside.

There’s a beautiful old lodge at Starved Rock that reminded me of some of the older national park lodges we’ve visited.

They were all decked out for fall, and lots of folks were eating inside and outside the restaurant at the lodge.

We did a second hike after lunch before the rain set in to a different canyon.

The sky was starting to grow pretty ominous. Rain was rolling in Saturday afternoon and we were trying to beat it with one more hike.

We found the waterfall we were looking for and after the boys played behind it for a little bit, we took off to get back to the car before the storm.

The waterfall reminded me of a hike in Arkansas that we love so much at Petit Jean State Park.

Once the rain hit, we went to town for snacks.

We roamed a few shops, stopped in a taproom that had a stack of board games, and waited for the rain to subside.

Then we bought a stack of dry firewood and went back to camp.

Marshmallows and campfire selfies.

Taido and the boys turned in pretty early and I stayed out by the fire for a long time. I can watch the flames for hours, listening to the wood pop and the wind rustle the trees.

On Sunday morning, the sun came out and quickly dried everything out. We packed up and hit one more trail after breakfast.

It was such a lovely weekend and felt so good to flex that camping muscle again after a long hiatus.

I remembered how much I love being outside in my camp chair.

I read a book, I sketched our tent.

I listened to the kids laugh (while reciting their favorite scenes from Parks and Rec over and over again).

When I got home, I filled in my sketch with watercolors.

A happy memory in my journal of some good days outdoors.

Cheers to more of those super soon!

The post Snapshots of Starved Rock: Camping in Illinois appeared first on Alison Chino.

Last spring we went camping for a weekend in Bavaria, Germany.

From the moment we told folks we were moving to Germany, people told us we had to go and visit Neuschwanstein Castle (German: Schloss Neuschwanstein).

It was raining when we stopped there on our way to our camping spot, but that was ok, because we got to stand on the viewing bridge by ourselves.

Usually this overlook is packed with people.

We were soaking wet by the time we got up to it, but still in relatively good spirits.

Most of us.

After the castle we drove to our campground and here is where I have to say that camping in Europe is not always my favorite. I am used to camping in America where the campsites are huge or where you can sometimes backpack to places where you can pitch your tent in the woods or a field or whatever, but the campgrounds in Germany tend to have a couple of fields where tents can set up and they can get super crowded. So we heard folks all night outside our tent. In fact, someone from another tent started yelling at the other folks to shut up. Which they didn’t. Also, to add insult to injury, this arrangement is not cheap. When you camp, you pay per person, so our little patch of green for one night cost us over $60. Yikes.

But the good news is that we found a bakery very close by the next morning so even though I was super sleepy, I had fresh bread and coffee before we went hiking. And oh, the hiking we would do!

Taido had been to Bavaria before so he was excited to take us on this hike that starts with a gorge trail.

The walkway has been cut through tunnels for about two kilometers. Super impressive!

And strangely hard to photograph, but we were all super impressed with Tai for knowing about it and taking us there.

After the gorgeous gorge, the trail opened up and we wandered along a river into the mountains.

Taido had walked this trail in the opposite direction after climbing the Zugspitze a couple of years ago. He had just happened along the Partnach Gorge.

The clouds came and went as we walked through the valley. Just bits of rain here and there.

The spring greens were bright and beautiful.

We reached a little hut by lunch time,

so we stopped for lunch and enjoyed cold drinks and hot noodles.

Along one part of the river were these piles and piles of cairns.

Little monuments to all the hikers who had come through and carefully stacked stone upon stone.

Of course one of us had to add to the cairns, leaving a little Chino mark.

After our gorge and valley hike, we packed up and headed to a new campground that was not quite as crowded as the first.

We did another shorter hike in the evening, and then had a picnic dinner before going to sleep.

The next morning we got up early to pop over to Austria for another climb.

It was supposed to start raining again in the afternoon and we were looking to beat the clouds before starting back to Tübingen.

We were super fortunate with the weather as rain was really predicted for the whole time we were in Bavaria. And while we did have some rain, for the most part we stayed dry while hiking.

We made a quick stop in Munich on our way back, as the boys and I had never been.

We hit the tourist spots.

And walked the city.

It was a little rainy, but not bad, and we stayed just long enough for the boys to get tired of walking around.

It’s crazy to me how they can walk forever in the woods, but they get tired when you drag them to a city. I think maybe it’s because there are so many places to stop.

I would love to have spent a little more time in Munich, but I’m glad I got to stand in the big square under the church tower even for a little while.

It was a whirlwind of a weekend, one of several we had last spring, driving around in rental cars, trying to fit in as much as possible. And though I loved Bavaria, I was also happy to get back to our lovely Tübingen and my cozy bed.

The post Snapshots of Bavaria, Germany appeared first on Alison Chino.

Recently, a fellow writer suggested that I try to dig at the root of what has made me a traveler.

Where did I get my love of the outdoors? How did I become a wanderer? 

As I have explored these questions through scribbles in notebooks and looked for answers to why I mark the calendar months by where we are off to next, I began to acknowledge, not surprisingly, that my wandering feet are a gift from my dad.

Since I left home many years ago, my parents have wandered far and wide over this great big globe, but my childhood was made up shorter escapes, mostly in and around Arkansas. As soon as we pulled out of the driveway, bound for the city limits, my cares started to fly quickly out the rolled down windows. Whether we were barreling down a curvy road to Newton County in the Ozarks or headed south to the shores of Lake Ouachita, the sweet relief of being away was a regular occurrence in our house.

Simple times of being outside for even just a night or two are some of my most treasured childhood memories.

Hey, Alison, can you miss school this Wednesday? There’s a full moon on Tuesday night.

Daddy and I regularly conspired to run over to the lake in the middle of the week. He would move meetings around and I would turn in assignments early. The empty parking lot at the boat dock was our reward for avoiding the weekend, and when we pulled out onto the water, Daddy would tell me to pick any island I wanted to camp on, because all our favorites would be available.

When the boat engine revved up loud to pick up speed after the no-wake zone of the docks, my heart would quiet.

I would breathe deeply of clean lake air, sitting in the front of the boat with my face to the sun and the wind in my hair.

On the island, Daddy would build a fire and set up camp. I’d chop whatever he had brought, onions and potatoes to be fried in a skillet or steak for fajitas. After dinner, Daddy would pull out his guitar and sing until the fire got low. I’d sing along or just sit and listen, letting the music fill my heart and sweep away the worries about school and life back home.

We would fall asleep in the boat, underneath the full moon.

I would wake to find Daddy in his lawn chair on the lakeshore, reading his Bible and whatever books he’d brought along. He would make illegible notes on little half sheets of paper for Sunday’s sermons.

There’s still hot coffee in the pot.

I’d crawl out of bed, and he would pause to have another cup with me. We’d eat eggs or maybe heat up whatever steak was leftover from the night before.

Then he would go back to his reading and praying and note-taking while I read a novel in the sun. Sometimes he would ask me a question that I would later recognize as I listened to him from my church pew. His stories and messages took shape in those hours of quiet and I am struck by the thought that his getting away was essential to the process of having something to say. Maybe in order to speak from the deeper places, we have to seek the stillness.

Before we packed up camp, we might fit in a quick slalom behind the boat.

There would be a stop for ice cream on the way home.

We’d get back in time for dinner.

I’d return to school on Thursday sun-kissed and ready to face the world again. As the following days pushed up against me, I would hold to the peace of my sweet escape to the lake. I could close my eyes and remember the water lapping the side of the boat as I slept, rocking me like a baby. Then the taunts of teenage boys and the ridiculous pressure to be perfect would remain a safe arm’s length away. High school faded into the background, eclipsed by a full moon and a perfect arc of spray off a water ski.

The post Learning the Art of Escape from My Daddy appeared first on Alison Chino.

I hope you are getting to see the leaves change where you live, because it is one of creation’s most spectacular displays.

Every year I am newly amazed.

How can the death of something be so beautiful?

Of course, one of the very best ways to enjoy fall color is to go camping.

And while I really love camping at all times of the year, autumn camping has a special place in my heart.

I don’t know if we are going to make it out for fall camping this year, but we are taking in as much color as possible by lacing up our boots on the weekends.

However there are still a few fall weekends left, so here is a little gift to get you going!

Our Chino House Camping Checklist.

This list is for car camping and camper camping.  One page is for your camping gear and the other is what you need for your camp kitchen.  Just download, print it out and get packing!

You might also find these camping menus helpful for planning a weekend getaway!

I know it’s Monday, but now you have all week to get yourself in gear for Friday afternoon.  So dig out that dusty tent and camp stove, and get ready to head for the hills.

Do come back and tell me all about your camping adventures!  And let me know what you think needs to be added to the checklist!  We’re forever evolving it!

Did you enjoy this post ?  Maybe you’d like to subscribe to the Chino House via RSS feed or by email. 

More about camping here.  More recipes here.  Also, find me on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram!

The post Chino House Camping Checklist appeared first on Alison Chino.

30 Hour Midweek Highland Getaway

I can already tell that one of the most wonderful things about living in Scotland is going to be that it takes almost no time at all to get out into the country.

Just a few miles outside of the city, the Scottish Highlands are already beckoning to us!

While waiting to move into our new flat last week, Taido and I had the opportunity to escape alone for a night.  My mother is in town and volunteered to stay with the kids while we did a bit of exploring.

Beautiful weather + Moss covered ground + The River Dee = Magical!

We bought food at the market and had picnics for lunch and dinner by The River Dee.

Before our walk into the woods, we made a couple of stops in the small villages of Ballatar and Braemar.  We toured The Royal Lochnagar Distillery and collected information about the area from visitor centers.

Having done very little research prior to setting out, we asked for and received helpful information about where we could hike in and camp (called wild camping in the UK) for the night.

After walking through this beautiful country for about 4 miles, we pitched our tent right by the river.

Camping in the Highlands has been one of those moments we’ve dreamed about ever since we first started planning our move to Scotland, and it did not disappoint.

We had shockingly good weather, as everyone we met pointed out, It’s such a perfect day for a walk!

The whole outing was impossibly idyllic.  Truly.  Following the river over heather covered hills and such.

The days are still long, so after we pitched our tent, we were able to read until late, enjoying our little corner of lovely.

The next morning, we hiked out in the most beautiful light.

I love morning in the mountains.  The way the sun comes up and the hills gradually turn golden in the light is dreamy to me.  We hiked from shadow to sunlight and back into shadow again.

I never get tired of it.

We didn’t bring anything for cooking, since it was such a short trip, so we searched out coffee in Ballatar.  We were glad to find it at this little place called The Bothy, which we quite enjoyed.

We took our time drinking coffee and eating scones.  We planned our drive home to make a couple more stops, one at Crathes Castle, which we loved!

And now that we’ve got our camping gear used to the Scottish soil, I hope it won’t be too long before we venture back out again.  This time with the kids!

They were not happy when I said, Hey look, kids, Dad and I slept by this river last night!

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2 families, 4 days, 3 nights, 15 miles, 3,000 feet of elevation gain.

This summer our family hiked from Aspen to Crested Butte with another precious family. Read about our first day on the trail here. And second day here.  Third day here.

Aspen To Crested Butte: Day 4

Taido woke us up early with bowls of coffee and oatmeal on our last morning in the mountains.

We had four miles of downhill to hike before we would come to Gothic, Colorado, where a shuttle comes twice a day to take folks to downtown Crested Butte. The shuttle comes at 11:30 am and 5:30 pm, and we wanted to be on the 11:30.

Everyone was dreaming of showers, a big lunch at a restaurant, the hot tub, real beds and internet access, so we didn’t want to be sitting in Gothic all day waiting for that 5:30 shuttle. We were hiking before 7 am.

We broke camp and set off, immediately having to cross the same creek that Rhonda had fallen in the day before. Cole carried Simon across in the pale early morning light.

This time I opted to keep on my long sleeves to avoid a repeat of the whole whining-inside-my-head-about-being-cold scenario from the day before. This was a good decision as we hiked for a while in the long shadows cast by the mountains.

We started all together, but it wasn’t long at all before everyone was ahead of Rhonda and me. Bobby stayed back with us, bringing up the rear, as we were stepping carefully down steep, rocky paths.

The trail from Copper Lake to Gothic is absolutely beautiful. However, I can’t imagine doing it in the reverse, as a day hike, which many folks do. The elevation gain is serious. We were marveling at the uphill climb behind us and thankful that we were going down, even if our knees and ankles were hating us a little.

Mary Polly and Ben switched shoes because the day before she said she felt like she was wearing clown shoes. She wore thick socks with Ben’s Keens and Ben was back in his boots. Again, not ideal, but she seemed just fine and her footwear certainly did not slow her down. She and Ben were racing ahead with everyone else.

The kids would stop and wait for us at the river crossings, of which there were several. Everyone was in a bit of a hurry so mostly, they all opted to slosh across and just hike in wet shoes. I cannot bear the possibility of soggy feet while hiking, so if the water was up past my ankles, I would stop and change to my sandals. If it was pretty low, I would go ahead and cross since my boots are waterproof.

We had at least four river crossings on the way down, but maybe more like five or six.  I’m pretty sure I was the only one with dry boots by the time we were done crossing rivers.

After we were past them all, we began to see lots more day hikers. The area was absolutely covered in wildflowers, so many people were hiking part of the trail to see the flowers. The Crested Butte Wildflower Festival happens every year in mid-July, so it was a peak time to see them.

Gothic, Colorado is home to the Rocky Mountain Biological Laboratory (RMBL), a dream school for science majors all over the world. Students come out and spend weeks of their summer studying the mountain ecosystems, and complete all sorts of projects. Mary Polly swears she is going to go one day. The folks from the RMBL always have the best parade float in Crested Butte on the 4th of July. They all dress in green leaves and flowers. They look like forest fairies who’ve come out of the woodwork just long enough for the parade. These crazy kids are partially responsible for our getting to see all the incredible wildflowers, as they are constantly working to restore areas that have been trampled or damaged with native Colorado wildflowers. We ran into a few of them on the trail gathering samples and doing field research.

Taido had told us that we would be near the end when we reached Judd Falls, a day hike that we’ve done several times as a family while camping in Crested Butte, so we were excited and watching for the familiar falls.

It was probably around 10am when we reached the falls. We stopped for a minute to admire the view, but we were all anxious to get down the rest of the way to Gothic, so we did not stop long.

From the falls, we all started hiking down together. Taido was looking for a turn off to Gothic from the Judd Falls trail, that is only used by the RMBL residents. If we didn’t take the turn off, we would pass Gothic and go all the way to the Judd Falls trailhead, which is on the dirt road about a mile up from Gothic. To go that way would add almost two miles to our hike.

However, the turn off was not clearly marked, and I didn’t remember one from our previous hikes to Judd Falls, so I was becoming less and less convinced that such a trail existed.

Then Taido turned left off of the trail into an overgrown area, that was, at second glance, a trail in a former life. Or a lesser used trail. It was wide enough for a jeep or a four wheeler, but did not look as though it had been used as such for some time.

We waited and watched him while he hiked downhill a little bit before he yelled up to us:

Yes, it’s this way!  Come on!

Sketchy, I thought, but we followed him. The kids scrambled down to him and on past him. Everyone could feel that we were getting close so they were all running.

We followed after them, but they were all quickly out of our view, so we just kept hiking down the overgrown trail.

It was not long though before signs of civilization appeared. We passed lots of projects, plants with small fences protecting them. There might have been marijuana growing. It is Colorado, after all.

We started to see the cabins that house students for the summer, so we knew we were in Gothic.

As we emerged from the woods, we could see the kids sitting at the shuttle stop.  They had shed their backpacks and were drinking sodas they had bought from the brand new Gothic Visitor Center.  They were smiling  and yelling to us that we had made it.

But before I reached them, Taido said to me, Where’s Ben?

Isn’t he with you?

No, I thought he was with you.

Without even speaking, we realized what had happened. Ben had been ahead of us when we had made the turn off the trail, and we didn’t notice.

We. Did. Not. Notice.

Just let that sink in for a minute.  Are you thinking What kind of parent does not notice that their kid is not with them??  Yep, that’s what I was thinking too.

I don’t think Taido and I even exchanged words. In a matter of seconds, Taido and Cole were running back up the trail we had just come down, and I threw down my pack and headed up the road to the Judd Falls trailhead in the hopes that he would be there.

I was about 100 steps up the road before I turned around and Bobby was with me.

It was a mile to the turnoff and another half mile to the trailhead.

Dear Lord, let us find him. Let us find him. 

Let him know that we will find him.

We’ve hiked this trail before. He knows the way. Let him be sitting at the trailhead. Let him be there. Let him be there.

It seemed like forever before we reached the turnoff.  Bobby kept asking me if I was sure we hadn’t missed it.

Nope, I’ll know it when I see it.

A car or two passed us without slowing.  I was starting to wonder if I should flag one down when we finally saw the cars parked on the road.  Cars park at the turnoff, because the 1/2 mile road to the trailhead is a four wheel drive road.  So usually only jeeps or cars similar to jeeps drive to the trailhead.

We reached the turnoff and he wasn’t there.

Judd Falls is a popular day hike, so there were lots of cars parked at the turnoff and several hikers.  We ran past them, practically shoving.  I would walk when I was panting too hard to run anymore.

I was trying to calculate how much time had passed.  How long had he been by himself?  I couldn’t make out if it had been twenty minutes or two hours.

We had just reached the trailhead when Taido came running toward us from the other direction.  They had found him.

Waves of relief washed over me.

Dear Lord Thank You.

Ben had gotten all the way to the trailhead and waited for a while before he realized we weren’t behind him.  Then he walked the trail back to Judd Falls and was wandering near where we had turned off the trail when Cole and Taido found him.   Taido sent them back down the way we had come before coming around to meet us to let us know they had found him.

We turned around and walked back to the road and the mile back to Gothic.  On the way I thought about seeing Ben and what on earth I could say to him about the fact that I, his mother, had left him.

In all honesty, I had enjoyed the day of hiking a good bit behind everyone else.  It had been quiet. Peaceful.

Along the trail before we reached the falls, I was even feeling a little mournful that the backpacking portion of our trip was almost over.

We had done what we had come to do, and soon we would be rid of our packs, but with them we would also be giving up the seclusion of the backcountry.  I was trying to hold in all the exhilaration of the previous days of hiking and of reaching our highest point.

I was in my own little world.

I had no excuse to give to Ben but my own blatant selfishness.

When we saw him, Taido and I both took off running to his side.  He was sitting in a rocking chair outside the Gothic Visitor Center and were both down on our knees in front of him simultaneously telling him how very sorry we were.

I was crying and saying I was so, so sorry.  And Ben was saying he was sorry for hiking ahead and not staying with the group.  And Taido was telling him, No Buddy, it wasn’t your fault.  I should never have turned off the trail without making sure everyone was there first.

Later Ben told me that though he had been scared, he had just trusted God that we would find him.

I continue to be amazed at how trustworthy God is.

Unbelievable moments of mercy in the midst of my greatest failures.

Bailey bought Ben a drink and we all brushed ourselves off, dried our eyes and snapped a quick photo before the shuttle came.

We had made it.  All of us.  From Aspen to Crested Butte.

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