Our trip to Garibaldi park began somewhat impulsively, with the campsite booked many months in advance without much thought. We had set our sights on a three-day adventure from Cheakamus to Helm campsite on day (8 km with an 800m elevation gain); Helm to Garibaldi Lake on day 2 (9 km with 200m of elevation); and down the Gaibaldi switch-backs on day 3 (a mostly downhill 9 km trek). At first glance, the plan seemed ambitious for our not-quite-five-year-old, but we figured we'd have a better sense of what was realistic after our summer hiking experiences.
Summer hiking had gone well for the most part, with a few hiccups along the way. One of our more memorable trips was to Tricouni Meadows, where our average pace slowed to a crawl—just 1 km/h both up and down. This definitely left me feeling a bit apprehensive. As a result, I found myself a bit frazzled going into this trip, doubting if we could pull off the kilometers, and feeling the pressure to start early to make sure we had enough time. Of course, my early start enthusiasm wasn’t exactly shared by everyone else. Despite my best efforts to rally the troops, the mood was less than receptive, and I only manage to push the suggested start time about 30 min earlier. 

Labour Day weekend is traditionally a time for adventure, with either Christian or me taking our oldest, F, on a long hiking trip with friends. This year was no different, and I planned to stay home with our two youngest. But when Jen floated the idea of a short overnight hiking trip—and even offered seats in her car—it felt like an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. The kids are old enough to tackle trails on their own now, and I figured I could manage carrying all our gear. After some back-and-forth, Jen and I decided on Tricouni Meadows, accessed from the Squamish River side. The road conditions seemed manageable, and the trail, at under 5 km, felt just right for little legs.

The drive to the trailhead started off smooth. Jen and Jon’s Rivian handled the steep, rocky sections of the logging road like a champ, powering through even the intimidating water bar with ease. However, as the alder grew tighter and the road narrowed, the pristine condition of the still-new vehicle gave us pause. Not quite ready to add “racing stripes” to its finish, they made the call to park and hike the last kilometer and a bit of road. This decision was met with little enthusiasm from the kids, as the midday sun was already making itself felt. The uphill trudge was hot and uncomfortable, and morale dipped quickly.

It was the BC Day long weekend, and we were looking for a local adventure that didn’t require an overnight stay or a long drive. Our friend Lena had spoken highly of Echo Lake—a destination she described as perfect for a summer day hike. It seemed to check all the boxes: close to home, a challenge, and lots of potential for swimming. We put out a call for interest in our outdoor family WhatsApp group, and as the weekend approached, the RSVPs began rolling in. By the morning of the trip, we pulled into the parking lot with five other families—a total of 12 adults and 12 kids, ranging from 4 to 12 years old. It was shaping up to be quite the crew!


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The first challenge of the day was crossing the Squamish River, as the trailhead lies on the far side. With two canoes and two paddleboards, we devised a ferry system. Lena took a couple of the big kids across on her paddleboard, while Christian and I loaded most of the younger kids into our giant canoe. Once the kids were safely across, the canoes returned to ferry the adults, all while I trying to convince the kids to put their shoes back on and get ready for the trail.

Introduction
The idea for this trip was born months ago, sparked by three moms dreaming of an adventurous summer getaway together. As with any grand plan involving multiple families, there was a level of uncertainty about whether it would all come together. Yet, as time passed, the pieces began to fall into place: we secured the necessary permits, and booked the shuttle. Days before departure panicked messages flew back and forth about food, gear, and ferry bookings. Despite my apprehension, especially considering our youngest, who will be 5 in the fall and had only hiked up to 5km in one go the previous summer, it was starting to seem like it might actually work out. The trip was somewhat ambitious for us, with some days planned to cover as much as 10km. We hoped the little one would mostly hike by herself, but we knew we might have to carry her at times. There was only one way to find out if she could handle it.

Towards the end of last season, with the snow transitioning to a firm spring snowpack, I decided to use my lightweight skimo skis on an overnight family ski trip to Manning Park. I'm not quite sure why I thought this was a good idea... maybe I thought that we'd start out carrying them and my pack was heavy enough as it was. My pack certainly was heavy, as it always is when carrying the overnight gear for a family of 5.
The family did great skinning up the road - F and N were under their own power skiing along with our friend's kids, and W was being towed on downhill gear. Skinning up the road one of my skis started feeling funny, like it had less "spring" to it. At lunch time I took a look at it, but it seemed fine. I thought I was imagining things and switched my skis to see if the sensation followed the foot or the ski. By the time we rolled into camp it was pretty obvious that there was a problem - the ski had a clear bend in it right in front of the bindings. Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised: I'd skied them a fair bit in the 9 seasons I'd owned them - including originally mounting them for NNN-BC cross-country bindings which I skied them with for a few seasons before later putting tele-tech bindings on them. Stomping out a tent platform didn't help.
When our friend Scott and his oldest kid proposed a few laps above camp maybe I shouldn't have come along, but it didn't look too bad when I started. It was fully done-for by the time I got back down, though, with the core of the ski fully separated and the halved just dangling together by the base.

Day 7: Chasing Ferries and a stiff head wind
It was a bit of a hectic start to the day as we were trying to time our leaving time to catch the ferry before noon. We had gotten into the habit of getting some pretty late starts, so this was a bit of a challenge. It was further challenged when google lead us astray along a very bumpy dike trail, causing us to miss the ferry. The little kids bike the trail back, while F and I headed in to town to get tickets for the ferry. Christian almost missed the ferry again as it turned out it leaves, not at the scheduled time, but as soon as it is full. 
On the other side, we faced the formidable Agger Tange, a 10 km stretch of flat land dividing the North Sea and The Limfjord. A stiff headwind made the journey tough, and to make matters worse, we had to fix another flat tire in the chariot. Considering the relentless wind, we debated taking the road instead of the coastal trails. However, a stop for groceries in Agger led us back to the trails, which proved to be a splendid decision. The area was breathtaking, with trees offering some protection from the winds. I couldn't help but notice the buzzing flies around me, a testament to the fact that I really needed a shower.
Our shelter for the night was in the small town of Svankjaer. It exhibited a quaint charm, complete with a serene pond, abundant plum and apple trees, and powered shelters. Despite the convenience, we opted to set up our tent to protect W from the nighttime mosquito onslaught. Throughout the evening, the kids lavished attention on the stone ducks by the pond, giving them the royal treatment with washes, food, and affectionate petting. It was a heartwarming end to a day.

Day 1: The Adventure Begins
As I set out from my dad's summer house with my three daughters, the weight of the trip and all the gear we had to carry left me feeling doubtful about our chances of making it to our first stop 28km ahead. I'd be riding our tandem along with F, towing N and W in the chariot. A test ride had given me some confidence, but as we hit the road, it was clear that it was going to be a tiring day. Just when I was getting into the rhythm, a clunking sound emanated from the back. I tried to peer back, but nothing seemed obviously wrong. Still, I knew I needed to pull over.
The culprit revealed itself: a flat tire on the chariot. Just as I was pondering my next move, a car pulled up behind me, and to my surprise, it was my dad, who had left shortly after me. He thankfully helped me change the tube since the necessary equipment was with Christian. After the repair, we said our goodbyes again, and I continued on to Stauning Enge, a beautiful area teeming with birdlife and mercifully flat terrain, which was a blessing as I doubted my ability to make it up any hills with the heavy load.
One of the highlights of the day was using the pull ferries, with the kids eagerly pulling us across themselves. We stopped for lunch by a lovely playground with covered picnic tables, and I couldn't help but notice how Denmark seemed to have playgrounds aplenty, making it easy to find a great lunch spot.
Further along our route, we crossed a stream exiting into the fjord, necessitating another stop. The kids got busy with daming and river diversions. The trail to Bork was beautiful, with its hard-packed surface following the fjord the whole way. In Bork, we met up with Lene and celebrated our first day's success with ice cream, all while spotting crabs and little fish in the harbour. We pedalled the final kilometres to the Viking harbour, where moster Lærke and Tante Kent were already preparing a sumptuous dinner of risotto with creamy mushrooms and bacon—a true luxury.
As the kids played with the other adults, I took a moment to relax and enjoy the sunset. It had been a long and eventful day, but as I put the girls to bed, I felt a sense of gratitude for a successful start to our adventure.

For the longest time I wanted to go see the larches over Thanksgiving weekend, but with thick smoke still covering much of Northern Washington and Southern BC this year did not seem to be the year. Our friends Ignacio and Pascale and their two kids were planning to head to the Wendy Thompson Hut Sunday night, so we decided to join and I "settled" for some regular, gorgeous fall colours in Marriott Basin. We hiked in Saturday afternoon and as always we had a bit of a late start. F was hiking fast and didn't want to wait for her younger siblings, so we ended up sending Christian and F ahead to set up camp. N was keeping a steady pace, but was as always distracted by the many blueberry bushes - eventhough I thought they were passed their prime. On the way up I was reminiscing about the last time we where there. It was 3.5 years ago with skis, W in my belly and N in my backpack. It sure seemed like an easy hike compared to back then. A couple of hundred meters below the hut, Christian came back down to give N a little boost. 

It was hot as we started hiking the last part of the road towards Brandywine Meadows; and the kids dipped their hats in every stream we crossed. The kids were already fully engaged in a pretend game; gathering water to fill magical tanks to help save the world from evil laser robots. This was F (8) and I's first trip out without the rest of the family, but Scott was the mastermind behind the trip. The Alcoholic Traverse is a 30-something kilometer alpine traverse from Brandywine to Brew. We would not have tried to undertake it without Scott, Sandra, and their two kids, E (10) and H (7).

We quickly made it to the end of the valley, had a quick snack and filled up on water, and started up the big hill towards the ridge of Brandywine. This is were I first realized how heavy my pack actually was. I am used to carrying a pretty heavy pack, when going with the whole family, and although this pack was not quite as heavy, I felt it much more as we were moving substantially faster than our regular family speed. The uphill was also a bit of a shock to F's system, but Scott kept her going with a pole stealing game - at least until the last section before the col. Here we had our first crises of the trip. The rocks were loose and a bit challenging, we were falling behind fast, and all of a sudden things seemed unmanageable to F. She started spiraling, but we managed to regain composure relatively fast and met everyone at the col for a little break. The rest of the ridge went pretty well, although F did need to listen to a story for the last little bit to get out of her head and just hike without too many thoughts of what was to come. ​

By Christian

We're a 2-cargo-bike family (and now, also a tandem). We love them all. This quick post is about our electrified in-town kid-hauler (our Haul-a-Day remains fully "manual", like all our other bikes). Last year we put on a nice aftermarket motor system using parts from Grin, on our Madsen (aka "Boxy") and noticed (just before the start of the school year) that we put over 4,500km on it during its first year! Combined with the ~1000km Line spends bike-commuting and ~5800km I spend bike-commuting (used to be  ~9000km, but my work recently moved closer) this put us solidly into the "more km by bike than by car" category this year (not even including all the trips to the beach and bike-touring vacations). We anticipate more km this year, as the kid-drop-off-run is longer. Although we always biked a lot this upgrade let it entirely replace using an automobile (or the bus) for in-town trips in our family. The kids are protected from the elements, depending on traffic it's usually faster, you never have to worry about parking, and if you're super-tired you can always just use a bit more juice. Oh yeah, and of course it doesn't burn gas or even much electricity - the thing uses less power than we spend on cooking.