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.

I will forever remember it as one of the loveliest walks of our entire time in Scotland.

It was Taido’s birthday weekend and we talked Ben and Simon into getting out for a longer day so we drove a little further than usual (over an hour) and hiked a little further than usual (over 10 miles), and as a result discovered a trail that combines many of our favorite elements of walking in Scotland.

Forests, easy rolling hills, fern groves and moors of heather. The loop walk from Tarland to the top of Pressendye and back has a bit of everything.

By the end of the day I was dreaming of moving into this little village (and specifically the cottage in the photo on the hillside) so that this walk could become my daily stomping ground.

And while moving out in the middle of nowhere to the Highlands is a silly dream (the best kind!), I feel certain that we will go back to Tarland to do this trail again.

Taido found this walk on the website he uses to download hiking maps so if you’re in the Highlands or Aberdeenshire and you want a gorgeous, easy walk, you can follow the directions from Walk Highlands, but here are about a million (or twenty) photos to tempt you to make the journey.

You park in the darling village of Tarland and then walk on the road for a bit. I pointed to the hill in this photo to show how super gradual and the climb up is. You walk up this road, through a forest and then up the ridge to the hilltops.

I love the reminders that you are welcome to walk!

On top!

Shelter on top for a little lunch.

And tea of course!

Down through fields of heather.

Perfectly placed picnic table? Of course.

Hello most romantic little lane of birch trees. I’d like to stay here forever please.

Also we picked wild raspberries and blackberries along this route.

Golden fields along the final track made a beautiful finish to our day.

Back in Tarland, there was a little market going on so we had coffee and fresh baked treats from a cart in the village square.

I can’t wait to see this walk in the spring!

The post Chasing Daylight in Tarland, Scotland appeared first on Alison Chino.

On New Year’s Eve, Taido and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary.

This amazes me on so many levels.

20 years?

Didn’t we both just turn 20?

But then we watched the video recording of our wedding with my entire family and indeed, there we were, 20 years younger. All kinds of bad hair and bad clothing choices and over done make up for our kids to mock.

Who let those children get married? Taido asked as our baby faces showed up on the screen.

Dad, your hair! Ben said.

Also. We had a lot of music at our wedding.

Like four songs before we ever even entered the sanctuary. And lots more throughout the service.

Including my cousin singing U2’s All I Want is You.

But I was reminded while we were watching that my favorite song from our wedding was a lesser known song called Miracle of Mercy. I remember vividly my friend Donna playing it for me while we were planning the wedding and deciding that it was perfect.

I’ve been thinking all fall about the fact that Taido and I were coming up on this anniversary and I spent some time before we went home writing down some of the gifts of this wild and wonderful 20-year adventure.

To be honest, because it’s a big anniversary, I have been approaching it with a certain level of pride. Like, Lookie here at us! Staying married and still being in love and stuff. Aren’t we something?

Every time I wrote something down that we had done together or made it through in one piece, I was attributing it to our “great marriage.”

But when I heard the lyrics to that simple song again, I was reminded that every year is another year that God brought us through. Every day that we manage to build each other up instead of tear one another down is a gift.

A miracle of mercy.

And friends, that’s the God-honest truth.

So here’s to the past 20 years being bathed in mercy.

And here’s to all that the next years hold for us being showered in mercy and grace as well, so many unknowns and unpredictable bends in the road.

I wouldn’t want to walk these roads with anyone but Taido.

*These photos were taken last summer in Switzerland by Whitney Loibner. 

Miracle Of Mercy
by Steven Curtis Chapman

If the truth was known and a light was shown
On every hidden part of my soul
Most would turn away, shake their heads and say
he still has such a long way to go
If the truth was know you’d see that the only good in me
Is Jesus, oh it’s Jesus

If the walls could speak of the times I’ve been weak
When everybody thought I was strong
Could I show my face if it weren’t for the grace
Of the one who’s known the truth all along
If the walls could speak they’d say that my only hope is the grace
Of Jesus, the grace of Jesus

But, oh the goodness and the grace in Him
He takes it all and makes it mine and causes his light in me to shine
And he loves me with a love that never ends
Just as I am not as I do
Could this be real, could this be true
This could only be a miracle
This could only be the miracle of mercy

The post 20 years appeared first on Alison Chino.

Beauty from Ashes

Twelve years ago today, we received one of those phone calls you never want to get. A family friend called from Switzerland to let Taido know that his father had tragically drowned trying to recover his daughter, Maya, who had also drowned. Maya, Taido’s half-sister, was five years old at the time, the same age as our oldest son, Cole.

We were living in Seattle and some dear friends offered Taido their frequent flyer miles so that he could leave immediately for Engelberg to lay his eyes on his father one final time before he was cremated, and to be present at a small ceremony.

Kobun, who I only ever knew as Taido’s father, was a celebrated Buddhist priest, so many ceremonies followed. In all corners of the world, people gathered to remember this man and his daughter. Two years ago, for a 10 year memorial of the tragedy, a book of essays was published about Kobun and Taido wrote the closing piece. I am a bit biased but this chapter remains one of the most beautiful pieces of writing Taido has ever penned, and that I have ever read.

I was reading it again today because, thanks to the radical generosity of the same friend who called Taido twelve years ago, we are spending much of our summer in the very home in Switzerland where Kobun and his family were living at the time of his death. I had never been here before and I was concerned before coming that it would be too difficult to be here, but the opposite has been true. The place (both the home and the surroundings) is soaked in beauty and peace. Our time here has been, in many ways, redemptive.

We spent a small part of this rainy anniversary remembering and praying together. As I light candles around the photos of Kobun and Maya, I pray that the memory of their deaths will be an instrument of grace for others today.

And if you have a minute today I highly recommend reading Taido’s chapter remembering his father, which can be found on his blog.

The post Beauty from Ashes appeared first on Alison Chino.

photo by Whitney Loibner, who shared our love letters on her blog recently.

A Short Love Story (for Valentine’s Day)

Recently I opened up a document I had put away for a while because I wanted to be able to look at it with fresh eyes.

And here is what my fresh eyes saw:

Rubbish.

It was all junk. A few good sentences were scattered in among the garbage but mostly it was truly awful.

The document was full of the pages of a book I have been working on for longer than I care to admit. You might remember that I wrote one thousand words a day in November for NaNoWriMo in an effort to make real headway on a project that was dragging out over way too long.

Now, I was returning to a third draft of a book that, while better than the first and second drafts, was still not a book I would even want to read myself. Much less purchase.

I was so discouraged. I sent the document off to a friend and wrote, “Be honest. Tell me to just throw it away and give up.”

Later that evening, over dinner, I was relating the incidents of the day to Taido, my husband. My love who does not mince words with me but is unfailingly honest. To a fault.

I was near tears when I told him that I could not bear to think that all the hours I had given to this project were a waste.

And here is what he said to me.

It is not a waste.

There may very well still be something buried there that will one day be a book, but I would love for you to feel the freedom to let go of it if you need to. If you stop working on that project today and no book ever comes of it, the time you gave to it is still not a waste.

You learned to write every day. To get words on pages. To tell stories.

If that is the only purpose that writing that book ever serves you, then it is still worth something.

Some days Taido Chino drives me out of my mind. He is not a sweet talker and he is just not going to say to me, “Honey, I do not know what you are talking about. This right here is a Best Selling Brilliant Book.”

He will not tell me the nice, but untrue thing. And there are days that I want to throw something at him because of how he is like this.

But then there are encounters like these where I know that I know that I know…

that there is a reason that God gave me this man.

True love is telling someone (and actually meaning it) that the energy they have given to something that may never see the light of day is not wasted.

The post A Short Love Story (for Valentine’s Day) appeared first on Alison Chino.

A Story about A Long Time Goal

When my husband sat me down and told me that he wanted to finish his masters’ thesis, quit his job and move our family abroad to get a PhD, I told him to go for it. “I’m all in for this adventure,” I said.

But in all honesty, those words were easy for me to say because I did not really believe that he would do it.

Now before you write me off as an unsupportive wife, I need you to know that Taido, my husband, had been trying to finish his masters’ thesis for over 10 years. We had these planning meetings once or twice a year where we both made goals, individually and for our family.

His goal of finishing his masters and getting a PhD always resurfaced, as did my goal of writing and publishing a book.

We revisited this goal whenever we pulled out the worn sheets of paper with our ten year old handwriting on them, and it became a source of discouragement.

Because I believed we began these planning and dreaming sessions as a life giving exercise, I suggested that we scratch the masters’ thesis from the list. “Let’s focus on new dreams,” I would say, “You know, ones that we can actually accomplish.” But Taido never would let this one fall off of the list.  He would return to it again and again with the hope that this might be the year of the thesis.

And some years he made progress. Really excellent efforts towards completing that beast. One year we even dedicated an entire summer sabbatical to the thesis.

But no matter the efforts made in some years or the lack thereof in others, January would roll around and I would watch him with his head in his hands, fighting the crushing disappointment that again, he had not done what he had set out to do.

So if I tell you that when Taido told me in September that he was going to finish his thesis and that he hoped that by the following year we would find ourselves living in the United Kingdom where he would be working on a PhD, you’ll forgive me if I was skeptical.

However, skepticism is a dream crusher. I have enough of my own unrealistic dreams to know this to be true. So instead of mentioning that maybe I had heard something similar to this before, or instead of bringing up problems with the idea of quitting a stable job and going back to school two years before our own children would start their higher educations, I simply said things like,

Make it happen, honey.

I love you. Go for it.

Because, friends, I ask you, what is the point of arguing about something that is probably not going to happen?

There was a tiny sliver of certainty in my brain that knew that my husband had it within him to do this thing. The same way I know I have a book in me.

It’s just that having it in you and actually doing it are two entirely different animals.

Since we are already in Scotland, and my husband is currently sitting in an office in Kings’ College doing research towards what will one day be a PhD, I don’t have to tell you that he did exactly what he set out to do.

Less than a year passed before he had accomplished all that he had told me that by the grace of God, he would do.

I don’t know exactly what changed, but for some reason, this was the year, and the process of watching him was both excruciating and wonderful. He has told this story himself many times, but through a combination of countless hours of work, graciousness on the part of his co-workers and family and just pure miracles, he finished the thesis in time to be considered for a PhD the following autumn. Then he was accepted to two PhD programs in Scotland. A journey of faith carried all six of us out of our (in retrospect) simple, idyllic life in Arkansas and into this new expat life abroad that we are still trying to figure out.

The timing seems strange in so many ways. We are unusual among the other families that are here in the program. Taido is older than a lot of the professors. We have older children, and in two years, it will be time for them to start joining “the real world.”

I am coming to terms with the fact that the world is changing and that what I find unusual is perhaps becoming completely normal. A year ago I did know what a digital nomad was, and now I am becoming one. Education is changing and the certainties that could be counted on when our parents graduated from college no longer exist for our children. Even now, we are watching people complete the very program that Taido is pursing who have zero prospects for their hopeful employment as professors of theology.

Still in light of the changing world, and maybe because of it, I think it is more important than ever before to look closely at the pieces of paper on which we have scribbled our dreams and to ask ourselves which ones we might finish this year. Which ones have we have begged and pleaded with God about? Which ones keep us up at night? Which ones are important regardless of whether or not they will bring in the money, security or respect we think we need?

Write them down again for this year and again next year.

I know that there are dreams we write down that we have to author for ourselves by following through or using one of the six thousand programs currently being advertized.

But sometimes a dream has to take a backseat to other parts of our lives. We have children to raise or a loved one to care for. We have debts to pay off or a new roof to buy.

But if we keep writing them down, saying them out loud and asking if this is the year, then one day, like beauty from ashes, a buried dream can rise.

This is why I will pen the words Write a Book on my dreams for 2014, just like I have for the last fifteen years.

The post A Story about A Long Time Goal appeared first on Alison Chino.

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.

Aspen To Crested Butte: Day 3

Our early morning wake up call came in the form of a light rain shower.  We popped up and scrambled to get all our packs under the tarp with us and then started to pack them.

I have this way of stuffing my sleeping bag that I’ve done since I was a little girl.  I stay in my bag and use my feet to push the bottom of my bag into the stuff sack.  Then I cram the bag in layers into the bag, again with my feet, while slowly sliding out if it.  By the time only my legs from my knees down are still in the bag, I go ahead and come all the way out and use my hands to stuff the last couple of feet of bag in.  It’s ridiculous and it only allows me to stay warm for about 30 seconds longer, but I have been coming out of my cocoon in this way since I was about 4.

Once we had our bags stuffed and pads rolled, the rain stopped.  Mercifully.  We then had breakfast (leftover chicken burritos from the night before and more bagels) and broke camp.  We were moving by 7am, which honestly is still a little late by mountain time, but over two hours earlier than the start we’d gotten the day before, so we felt like we were getting a jump on the day.

In the cold morning air, Taido had urged us all to buck up and go ahead and dress for how warm the day would get, not for how it felt to us right then.

You’ll get warm as soon as we start walking. 

I obeyed and stripped to just my walking skort and my t-shirt, cramming my layers down into the bottom of my pack.

Side note: I did not want any extra clothes weighing my pack down so I wore the same clothes for the whole hike, a Patagonia walking skirt with shorts under it that I bought three years ago at the Thrift Store Of Aspen for three dollars, and my Bean2Blog t-shirt.

I was freezing.

I pulled out my warm hat out of the top of my pack and pulled it down over my ears, wearing it under my sun hat, because surely we would soon walk into the sun.

We had not been on the trail five minutes before we came to our first river crossing of the day.  The water was not rushing quite as fast as the last crossing, but it was a little deeper.

We changed out of our boots and into our sandals.

Oh, except for Ben.

He was already in his sandals because Mary Polly was wearing his boots, even though they were too big for her.  This was our current solution to the small problem I like to call Boots Fell Apart.  However, this arrangement created a little problem for Ben called Hiking In Wet Sandals.

Ick.

However, neither of these issues were looming large on my brain since after the river crossing the one thought consuming me was,

I Cannot Get Warm.

Followed by,

I Am So Cold.

Again, not to sound dramatic, but after I got my boots back on and started hiking, I was shaking and wishing I had more clothes on for about two hours.

Ridiculous I know.  Why did I not stop and dig out more clothing?

I don’t know.  I just kept thinking I would warm up.  We were hiking in the shadow of the mountain and you could see the sunlight getting closer and closer, climbing up the valley.  I knew it was just about to hit me and wrap me up like a blanket.  It’s my dad’s voice inside my head telling me to Just Keep Moving.

But my pack was a bit heavier on this day (only by about three pounds, but still) and we were immediately gaining more and more elevation, so I just knew I was going to be sweating any minute.

So I was focused on just keeping a slow, steady pace.

Before the day started, Rhonda and I had a little Come To Jesus Meeting in which I begged her to believe me when I said that it’s better to not stop for long, to not sit down, but to just keep moving.  (I was totally channeling my father.) I don’t know if she believed me or if she was just unburdened by carrying an almost empty backpack, but she was having a much better day.

And everyone else was grateful we were not under the sun’s heavy heat yet.  Simon, now that his pack was strapped with rope onto his brother’s load, was practically running up the trail.  I kept having to call him back to me.

So between Rhonda, Simon and me, I have to admit that I was definitely the one struggling on Day 3.

We moved slowly through the morning in increments of twenty steps.  When I stopped for five to breathe, I would exhale Lord, give me twenty more.

Up, up, up we went.  Above the thinning trees.  Through more rivers.  Blair fell onto her side in one and got soaked.  Sometimes, part of the group would try to jump or stone step instead of stopping to switch shoes, so several were hiking in wet shoes.

Mercifully, you dry quickly in the moisture deficient Colorado air.

We had a Packs Off break after our third river crossing.  The sun had finally found us and I was basking in it, letting its heat smooth away all my goose bumps.  Some of us were wet and all of us were tired.  Taido said we had done about a third of the elevation gain we needed to reach the pass.

We shared trail mix.  Bobby and Mary Polly filled our water bottles.  Bailey took pictures of the waterfall just above the river crossing.  I just rested.

It was hard to get going again, but we stayed all together, slowly moving forward.  We saw our first bits of snow along the trail.

We crossed over small patches near the tree line and around boulder fields.

I always am awash with wonder when I get above tree line.

To climb this high is to see the world anew.

It’s like The Sound Of Music scenery all around.  These great grassy fields and 360 degree views of the world that are just unbelievable.  I was still in a labor march to get up the switchbacks, but I was teary at the beauty.

Steeper and steeper, our trail was cut into the side of the mountain.  I hugged the mountain side of the trail, feeling like I was a bit too shaky to be near the edge.  Simon and Ben were motoring on up in front up me and I whispered prayers for steady footing.

We could now see the pass.  It still felt far away, but we were gaining on it.  We were going to make it by noon.  Maybe.  And then we would have lunch.  I just looked forward to sitting down.

To taking off my pack.  My head was all filled with scattered soundbytes.

Twenty steps.  Breathe five. Twenty steps. Breathe five.  Further up and further in.

This is what heaven will look like.  Only I will be able to breathe.  And run.  Oh, and FLY.

Taido could see a larger snow field ahead and called out to Ben and Simon to stop.  And to wait.  They were perched on rocks above the trail when we got to them.

Taido, Bobby and Bailey examined the 50 foot pitch of snow we needed to cross.  The actual snow was not as scary as the 70 foot slide straight down that you would take if you were to lose your footing on the snow.

And honestly, not even the chance of falling was making me want to cry.  It was the thought of having to climb all that way back up if I slipped and fell that made me want to burst into tears.  Or what if someone else slipped, and we had to go down and help them.  And then climb back up.

We were within shooting distance of getting over the pass.  And that’s what I wanted.  To Get Over That Pass.

While I was fretting, Taido was making his way across.  He roped himself to Cole and Bailey, who stationed themselves up against the rocks, sitting down with their feet leveraged against rocks in front of them.

I had not had my phone out all day (Thank you Bailey for all the pictures for this story!), but I pulled it out and videoed the snow crossing.  None of the other four hikers we saw that day were carrying rope.  I so appreciate Taido’s willingness to err on the side of caution in situations like these.  He’s been in some tight spots mountaineering so he’s willing to carry a few extra tools for a pinch.  Also, who doesn’t want an opportunity to use an ice axe?

We all made it safely across, crossing one at a time along the rope that Taido now held secure on the other side.

Simon came with me, tied into the rope and stepping right into my footsteps.  We were all following Taido’s boot marks though.  He was, in every way, our trail blazer.

Once we were all across, the kids practically ran to the top of the pass.  Rhonda and I came behind, reaching it at last.  Overjoyed.

We made it!

We did not get our promised rest though because Taido could see clouds moving in.  We snapped a few pictures and then he shooed us on.

When those clouds reach us, we don’t want to be exposed.

I was awfully disappointed that we weren’t having lunch on the pass because I was carrying three pounds of it.  Taido took it from my pack and stuck it in Cole’s.  A giant summer sausage that I never, ever want to see again.

The other side of the pass was almost more beautiful than the side we’d come from.  Sweeping boulder fields full of switchbacks gave way to green forests and a mountain lake below.

Breathtaking.

I was super wobbly coming down.  Gone was the trouble breathing and keeping pace uphill but shaky knees and ankles made me choose steps carefully and nearly stumble several times.  Rhonda was having the same trouble, so the others quickly got ahead of us, freely running down the mountain in their youth, without a thought of a possible rolled ankle.  They were all ecstatic to get to the gorgeous camping area below.  Bobby stayed with us as we made our way down.

The clouds were getting darker all the way.  As we neared the bottom, I could feel Taido’s urgency in choosing a camp spot.  He and Bailey scoped one out and quickly moved us all in.  It was a little bit of a climb on the other side of the lake which Rhonda was none too happy about.

More uphill?

And we had to cross a creek, which Rhonda fell all the way into, soaking her boots.

Still, we were practically there.  Our longest day of hiking was

almost.

done.

On arriving, however, there was no time to stop and rest.  We were following Taido’s lead, scrambling to get tents and tarps up before the rain.  We barely had one tent up and one tarp up before it hit.

Crazy hard rain and hail.

Under the tarp, we were all laughing.  Giddy from fatigue and the unbelievable timing of getting our shelters up, we huddled together on top of our packs under the tarp.  Taido was still securing it in the rain, with Bobby, Bailey and Cole helping.

The ground turned white before our eyes.

Soon we had to take turns standing up and knocking the hail out of the top of the tarp.  Cole would say I never took my turn and that he did most of it.  My legs were no longer working, so that might be true.  Also, I was making a video.

Most afternoon mountain storms blow over quickly, so we waited an hour before we went ahead and pulled out lunch underneath the tarp. We cut absurdly large chunks of summer sausage and cheddar cheese.  We passed around crackers.

Soon the hail stopped and then it was only raining.  For about an hour.  Then it started to hail again.  We could see sunlight and blue sky in the distance.  It just wasn’t reaching us.

Bobby began to be concerned that we might should get lower.  Because, thunder and lightning hello!  Bailey, who, let’s be honest, was not tired after the long day, said that we should just hike the four miles down that were left.  Because there was a hot shower waiting below.

But in addition to the fact that Rhonda and I would never have made it (she was already asleep in the tent at this point), we were under shelter and somewhat dry at the moment.  If we packed up and started moving again, we would get drenched, and pelted with hail.

Taido kept saying he thought it was about to blow over.  I made pouty faces and asked him why he didn’t bring more tents.

I am helpful like that in a crisis.

When the rain had turned to a light drizzle, Taido said he was going for a walk around the lake and left.  You know, because we hadn’t really done much walking that day.

Bobby crawled into the tent with Rhonda and napped for a bit.

The kids spent the better part of two hours discussing which Harry Potter character they would most like to be.

I pulled every ever loving bit of clothing I had out of my pack and wrapped it around me.

Six hours and two more hail storms later, the clouds finally cleared enough for me to feel like the boys and I were not going to be huddled together all night trying to stay dry.

When Taido came back, he washed the tarps and hung them up so we would not be sleeping in mud.

And then we cooked dinner.  I was not looking forward to this night’s dinner and when I describe it to you, dear reader, I am certain it will sound disgusting.  But believe me when I tell you that it tasted like food from the angels.

When really it was Ramen noodles tossed with jars of pesto and canned chicken.

It turns out that being curled up in a ball trying to stay warm all afternoon makes you very hungry.  And then also the food had the added advantage of being hot. I warmed my cheeks on the sides of my bowl.  Taido then washed out our bowls and fixed us tea and hot chocolate in them.  (Cups are for chumps.)

I can neither confirm nor deny whether there was a fire in our campsite that night, just a few feet away from the NO CAMPFIRES sign and in the middle of a fire ban.  But somehow, we all got warm and dry before we climbed into our sleeping bags under a miraculously clear sky.

Stars upon stars upon stars.  I fell asleep breathing huge sighs of relief.

We were on the downhill, friends.  Just a few miles from the finish line.

Four to be exact.

Well, make that six or seven when you add in that one of us would get lost along the way.

Read Day 4 of this story here.

The post Aspen To Crested Butte: Day 3 appeared first on Alison Chino.

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

I had a revelation along the way last week in the mountains. Well, several actually, but the first one was this.

I really love backpacking.

Seriously.

Taido goes backpacking a lot. Three of our kids have been with him at least once.

But I had not strapped on a pack and headed into the woods for more than a long day hike in (ready for this?) 17 years.

What?

How is it that I have gone that long not doing something I love so much?

I’ve done a lot of family camping. In pop ups. In tents. Near the cars. And the bathrooms.

But backpacking is a different animal, y’all.

Backpacking is camping in its purest form.

Stripped down. Bare necessities.

Bring only what you can carry.

Friends, for me? That ain’t much. I think I weighed in at around 35 pounds.

Fortunately for my friend, Rhonda and I, we have husbands and sons who can heft closer to 75 pounds.

I’m unashamed that we had to rely on these men for our food and shelter.

In fact, nothing can take away from how proud I am of us for hiking all the way from Aspen to Crested Butte. Not even the fact that we ran into two different couples who were doing the same hike in one day that took us four. When the first couple ran (literally, y’all, RUNNING) past me on the trail and someone in our group informed us that they had left from the same place we had left from three days ago, at 8 am that morning, I said to Rhonda,

I am not letting that cheapen this experience for me one little bit.

Just think of all we’ve seen.

We’ve fallen asleep to the sound of rushing rivers,

With the stars as our canopy and the moon as our evening light.

We’ve gazed at flowers that only a handful of other people in the world will see this summer.

We’ve taken time to stop and wonder at the colors, the variety and the sheer multitude of wildflowers. 

We have carefully crossed rivers and snow fields, giving thanks for the ropes and strong hands that guided us and our children along.

We’ve sat around a campfire and eaten meals from tin bowls that tasted better than food at any restaurant because everyone knows food tastes better when you’re outside and when you’re hungry from your journey.

We’ve been humbled by our loads and received mercy from our families.  As mothers, we experienced a role reversal on the trail with our children whom we have long served. And it was good for us.  And for them.

And so much more.  The gifts are countless.  Even my greatest moments of shame on the trail have been rendered gifts to me as I reflect on our time there.

I saw what I went to see in Colorado.

I experienced the mountains in a new way.

And that experience is more precious to me than the fact that we made it from Point A to Point B.

I have so much more to share about being in the mountains, but today I am just giving thanks for the journey.  Where in your life have you seen how the journey or the experience is even more precious than the destination?

The post Along The Way appeared first on Alison Chino.

Are you making your summer travel plans yet?

In the Beach vs. Mountains scenario, mountains definitely win at the Chino House.  While I can get into a little time on the beach, the rest of my family has little to no use for it.  Especially if the alternative is mountains.  I have made peace with this reality since I also love the mountains.  Plus, now I get to go to the beach with girlfriends, which is just fine by me.

I am super excited about our plans to return to Colorado for our annual family camping trip! We love the Rocky Mountains and so we will be heading back to some our favorite spots.

This summer we are shaking things up a bit and going light. We have unloaded our pop up and are planning to do our first ever Chino Family Backpacking Trip.

We decided at the end of our trip last year that all of our kids are old enough for a real mountain trek, so our plan this year is to hike from Aspen to Crested Butte.

We first visited Crested Butte as a family in the summer of 2007, and we all fell in love with this idyllic mountain village. I read about the hike between the two towns that summer and dreamed of one day being able to do it.

Well, this is the year! Lord willing, the Chinos, along with our friends, the Eubanks, will make it from one town to the other on a mountain trail that meanders along a creek for about 18 miles.

We ate dinner with our friends, Bobby and Rhonda, at their lovely home a few weeks ago to discuss the details. Or more accurately, to hear the details from Taido. He has the entire trek mapped out and planned all the way from our footwear options down to the meals we will carry.

Rhonda and I have been walking together to get ready, but Taido told us we needed to step up our game. Add in some hills. Start breaking in our boots. Maybe consider carrying a pack on some of our walks.

We have added in a hill or two since then, but we still have a long way to go to be ready for the big hike!  Still, ready or not, I am so excited about this adventure!

Are you doing anything fun this summer?  What’s your favorite vacation destination?

The post Summer Travel Plans appeared first on Alison Chino.

I am so grateful for a wonderful weekend at Castle Bluff with our middle school students from church.  It’s been a couple of years since I made it to one of Taido’s camps so I had enough distance that I was able to wonder afresh at the experience.

Lots of treasures on my Grateful List today:

sweet gal riding shotgun with me to and from camp: Hannah!

all six Chinos getting to go this time: Taido speaking, me leading a small group, Cole serving on work crew, MP and Ben as campers, and Simon tagging along.  We were never all together, but it still made me happy to know we were all there.

Simon’s enthusiasm about being at camp, riding in and even driving the mule, “helping” in the sound booth and watching the madness all weekend

so many new faces

seeing the face of someone from years ago in the eyes of their child

the sacrifice of time and energy by so many who could spend their weekend differently

older students serving younger students

new songs

and old songs

a room full of pure crazy, going bananas

girls learning in the tiniest of ways to extend mercy and grace to one another

a hike on an old, familiar trail

an old cross

fall color popping up everywhere

misty mornings

a new building rising from the Ozark dirt and clay and the hope of more and more people having the chance to get away

catching up with folks I am usually just passing on Sundays

a wise fellow leader

the squeals of kids on the zip line for the millionth time or for the first

watching kids let go of fear and step backwards off the rappelling deck

Ben’s face after he rappelled off the new deck for the first time

kids who have been to camp before sharing their favorite spots and moments with kids who were there for the first time

late night giggles in rooms packed with girls

hammocks strung between bunks, between tree trunks and from rafters

7th grade drama making me so happy that I never have to go back to middle school, and at the same time reminding me to pray more diligently for students who are facing a battle every day

gorgeous, sun-drenched drive home on curvy roads and through dreamy autumn forests

a pot of soup welcoming my family and me at home

Our camp Mama, Rhonda Bentley, who spent her 50th birthday with 100 middle school students.  Her big heart for seeing this ministry done is mirrored in so many other sweet souls.  She pulls them all together with her clipboard and spreadsheets, but the serving, cooking, playing, singing, washing, belaying, teaching, leading, praying, driving and working that happens in one of these crazy weekends is the body of Christ in action.  I love getting to see it in action!

I brought a few leaves home with me and when I opened my Bible yesterday morning and saw them I said a prayer of thanks for all these blessings and more prayers of hope for the threads that kids will trace back to this experience as they count their own blessings years from now.

instagram creds: @hannahowens12, @nhill13, @lillyroxursox, @charlieallen24, @michellelfoster, @alisonchino

The post Grateful for Camp appeared first on Alison Chino.