Last New Years we blew a baffle in our Exped Synmat Hyperlite Duo. I don't really hold it against the mat - that thing is probably close to 10 years old with something like 500 nights on it. We thought this meant it was time for a new mat but, man, things have gotten expensive recently. At least attempting a repair started to seem like a good idea. Exped said it couldn't be fixed, and some searching online seemed to agree with that idea... but, it's just a bag filled with air, so it seems fundamentally possible. Without anything to loose I decided to cut it open and give it a go.

I'd assumed that the bond between the baffle divider and surface of the mat had probably delaminated, but when I had it open I found that the material (which is just a thin plastic sheet for weight savings) had actually ripped in half. Interesting. Rather than futzing around with limited space I decided to just cut it open the full length of the repair area, plus a bit extra, so I could use a sewing machine. I made a new baffle out of a strip of lightweight uncoated nylon from my off-cuts bin and stitched it in well past the end of the failure area with a sewing machine. Then I drew the "incision" back together stitching by hand and painted everything (both sewing machine lines and the incision) with a good coating of Seam Grip fabric glue/sealant. The first pressure test revealed that I'd missed a small spot (well, the Seam Grip flowed in such a way that it didn't seal while curing) so I did a second round of seam grip. Second time's a charm, I guess, since now it holds air. A year and a half and many, many nights later I think the scars are just as reliable as any of the many pinholes I've Seam Grip-ped over. It was easier than I'd expected. If you've blown a baffle and can sew I'd totally suggest giving it a try. More recently we blew another, different, baffle and I stitched that one up too. Easier the second time.

First repair, with a red baffle sewn in:

Second repair, this time with a purple baffle. Variety is the spice of life.

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. 

As the other families had predicted, the hike didn’t take us too long, and we arrived at the campsite mid-afternoon. I suppose a well-maintained trail does wonders. The rest of the afternoon was spent building nests, searching for lichen, running around, sipping hot chocolate, and preparing dinner. Christian and Mike even ran off to try and summit Helm (apparently the end is quite tricky, and only Christian did the last few moves). As the sun began to set, it became clear that the evening was going to be chilly—definitely a cold night ahead.

It was indeed a cold night, and we woke up to snow on the ground. The kids were pretty excited, while I felt more apprehensive. Despite bringing gloves and warm jackets, I wasn’t fully prepared for winter conditions. W quickly became upset about the cold, so we settled in for some extra morning snuggles while I prepared breakfast and had a great chat with Lena. By the time we finally got moving, it was late morning. Though the sun provided some warmth, the wind still had a sharp chill as the trail led us into the open volcanic plains toward the pass. Nova had gone ahead with Nick, and once I caught up to them, we mostly hiked in silence—heads down, one foot in front of the other. As we neared the pass, Christian radioed that W was in need of a break, so we ducked into a clump of trees to shelter from the wind for a quick lunch so they could catch up.
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After lunch, Nick and I split off from the group to head up to Panorama Ridge while Christian (who had Helm the day before) took the kids. There were certainly a lot of people on the trail, and it was a little slippery from the previous night’s snow. But the views from the top are truly unbeatable. On the way back down to the lake, we didn’t catch up with the kids, so they must’ve kept a good pace ahead of us. We had some great conversations as we descended, chatting about everything big and small—it was really enjoyable. When we arrived at the lake, everyone was gathered at a beautiful lookout. The kids played by the water; the adults desperately hoped no one would get their feet wet, while trying to stay warm from the cold wind. As soon as the sun dipped behind the mountains, we headed back to the tents to warm up. We were sure glad we packed the warm sleeping bags.

We woke up to a gorgeous morning. Lena had set up breakfast on a small peninsula, where we could soak in the warmth of the morning sun while admiring the mist slowly lifting off the lake. It was the kind of scene that belongs on Instagram, and several hikers stopped to snap photos of us as they passed by. As soon as I was ready, W, N, and I started heading down the trail, while Christian and Nick opted to hike back to Cheakamus to retrieve our car instead of joining the car shuttle. The little ones kept a surprisingly good pace to Taylor Meadows, delighting in stomping on the ice crystals rising out of the dirt along the way. A large patch of puffball mushrooms provided another highlight, with the kids joyfully puffing them into the crisp morning air.
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At Taylor Meadows, a group of hikers warned us about a bear sighting ahead on the trail. We decided to wait for the rest of the group before continuing, and after a brief pause, we all pressed on together.
The switchbacks down from Taylor Meadows started out well enough, with a game of hide-and-seek keeping spirits high, but eventually, the long descent took its toll on W. By the last stretch she was worn out. Luckily, Christian (having retrieved the car) hiked up to rejoin us just in time and gave her a lift for the final kilometre or so, sparing her tired legs.
Despite the challenges, it was a fitting end to a memorable adventure. As we reached Rubble Creek and loaded up the car, we couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

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.

The trail started off pleasantly, with some shade providing relief from the heat. However, it wasn’t long before we climbed into the subalpine, where shade became scarce, and the route turned into a series of boulder fields. The exposed terrain slowed us down, and the kids were not impressed. At one point, our youngest had a meltdown in a boulder field because she didn’t want to hold my hand while balancing on the tall boulders. The hike to the first lake took us about five hours to cover just 5 kilometers. When we finally arrived, the kids made a beeline for the water, eager to cool off and swim while we set up camp. With Jon’s help, I even managed to rig a half-decent bear hang—normally Christian’s task on these trips.
Jen asked if I had any secrets for hiking with kids, but I had to admit that sometimes, it’s just hard. This was the most complaining I’d heard from my kids in years, but I felt bad for Jen since this was her family’s first overnight hike. Hopefully, it won’t be their last.
Dinner was a highlight, eaten with a beautiful view of Tricouni. Afterward, the kids naturally gravitated toward Jon, who kept them entertained with silly stories. Their laughter carried through the camp while I cleaned up, a nice way to end a tough day.

The next morning, we took it slow, knowing the way down would likely be easier. Before starting the hike, we encouraged the kids to eat as many blueberries as they could find around camp, hoping this would curb their urge to stop at every bush along the trail. While they enthusiastically took up the challenge, it quickly became apparent that no amount of pre-hike blueberries would stop them from pausing to pick more on the way down. Still, their picking speed improved as we descended, and overall spirits were higher than the previous day. The east-side trail we chose avoided most of the boulder fields but traded them for mud. Thankfully, the mud rarely went above ankle height, making it more manageable. There was one moment of drama when we lost the trail in a muddy section. L, the oldest kid in the group, scouted ahead and accidentally disturbed a wasp nest. She sprinted uphill to escape but still suffered a handful of stings. Thankfully, no one else was stung, and after some Benadryl and a comforting hug, she was ready to continue.
The final stretch along the road was hot, but the downhill grade made it more bearable. By the time we reached the cars, everyone was looking forward to our celebratory stop in Squamish for dinner and ice cream. 

Despite the challenges, the trip was a success in its own way. Watching the kids work through their struggles and enjoy the little moments—like blueberry picking and storytime—made it worthwhile. Here’s hoping Jen’s family is up for another overnight hiking adventure in the future!

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.

The hike up to Echo Lake is challenging—steep and, at times, requiring scrambling. The trickiest sections are equipped with ropes and chains, but they were still a test, especially with the younger kids in tow. I was glad we had divided responsibilities, with our oldest hiking ahead with the parents guiding the older kids, leaving Christian and me free to focus on our two younger children. Fortunately we'd also brought a soft kid-carrying-pack on the trip. It's light, fabric-only, and stuffs down to slightly larger than a cloth shopping bag. We used to bring it "just in case" a fair amount, but hadn't brought it on any trips in years as W will just ride dad's shoulders if she needs a break. With talk of scrambling, chains, and the elevation gain Christian figured "well, if we don't bring it on this trip we should just get rid of it" and tossed it in the pack.
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Hiking with our 4-year-old, W, added its own layer of complexity. She’s fiercely independent and insisted on hiking by herself, refusing any help or even having someone spot her on the steeper sections. We tried to explain that even adults sometimes get spotted for safety, but she wasn’t having it. Her determination made the carrier absolutely invaluable, allowing us to carry her on the steepest and most exposed sections while keeping her safe and avoiding a meltdown. For some reason she was ok to just be carried in it, but didn't want to be spotted. Not that one can effectively spot while hanging onto chains yourself.
Our 7-year-old, N, tackled the trail on her own. And although N navigated it safely, I couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious at times. Thankfully, the demanding climb rewarded us with occasional views of Monmouth Creek’s spectacular waterfalls and cascades, offering much-needed motivation.

What truly made the hike unforgettable, though, were the swimming holes—easily the most amazing I’ve ever visited. These pools of crystal-clear blue water carved into granite rock came complete with natural slides. The water was cold but refreshing, perfect for a warm summer day. We stopped twice for long breaks to play in the pools.
While I relished the chance to swim, I was on my toes the whole time, keeping an eye on all three kids to make sure everyone got a turn in the water, had enough to eat, and was ready to move on when the group needed to continue. With our younger kids in the mix, I made a point of keeping us near the front of the pack after each break to avoid being left too far behind.

​After the second swimming hole, the group split—some opting to head back, while others continued to Echo Lake. Christian and I were determined to make it to the lake, and the kids were luckily on board too. W got carried the rest of the way, but N powered through the full 4.5 km and 900m of elevation gain all on her own. Despite being tired when we arrived, she insisted on swimming in the lake like everyone else, so we joined the group that had set off around the corner.

After the swim, it was time for another round of drying feet and tying shoes while the kids had a quick snack. Then we began the long descent. Luckily the down trail is a lot less steep and without any scrambling. Most of the group sped down the trail, but N and I took it slower, enjoying a calmer pace. By the time we reached the river, everyone else had already crossed back, so we waited on the bank for our canoe to return. The early return crew had picked up some pizza, which was a welcome treat after such an adventure. At 8 PM—12 hours after we first crossed the river that morning—we packed up the gear and called it a day.
To recover from the long and adventurous outing, we stayed the night in Squamish and treated ourselves to a day of climbing, relaxing, and more swimming at Murrin Park. It was the perfect way to wind down after a great adventure.

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.

Day 1: Rialto beach to Hole-in-the-wall
After a long drive, including a necessary stop to pick up bear canisters and rearrange our food and gear, we were finally ready to set off. It was mid-afternoon by the time we were on our way with one of the other families—Tim, Michelle, and their two kids, ages 11 and 5. The last family would join us later in the day.
As we walked along the coast, I was confused by the birds flying overhead. Michelle confirmed they were pelicans, a surprise to me as I didn’t realize they ventured this far north. Watching these large birds swoop down to catch fish was mesmerizing and added a touch of magic to our start. The hike began with a short 3km warm-up on an easy sandy or pebbly beach. We reached Hole in the Wall with about 30 minutes to spare before the tide got too high to safely pass. The big kids were thrilled by the natural arch and the vibrant tidal life below, and were excited to repeat the trip when Christian had to come back through to give our youngest a spotter while she scramble up the steeper side leading to the arch.
Our first campsite was located near a small trickling stream a bit further ahead. As we arrived, we saw Chris, Krystil, and their two kids, ages 6 and 9, making their way over the inland "trail" by Hole in the Wall. Soon, we were all together, setting up camp while the kids explored the sea stacks and played in the little stream. We celebrated our successful arrival and the fact that everyone had made it out.  As the sun set, we settled into our tents, ready for the adventure to continue in the morning.

Day 2: Hole-in-the-wall to Chilean memorial
With another short day ahead, we decided to enjoy a leisurely morning, planning to leave around 11am. It was our middle child's 7th birthday, and the other kids organized a small treasure hunt and made birthday cards using rocks and charcoal. Watching them come together to celebrate was heartwarming, adding a special touch to our adventure. Though the route was mostly straightforward beach walking, we encountered our first rock fields and overland trails today. Unlike the beach hikes we’ve done in BC, where much of the trail is inland, the Olympic coast is mostly beach - trails are few and mostly involve scrambling up and down crumbling obstacles. 
The day's hike ended at another beautiful beach campsite, this one with access to a toilet. Despite the  1-star review from the kids due to the smell, flies, and cleanliness of the toilet seat, it was still an improvement over no toilet at all. The evening brought some worried thoughts about the next day's plan. The timing of the tides required an early start to get around the first headland, and the distance would be more than double today’s, with around 10km ahead. After some discussion, one family decided with a heavy heart that the next day's hike would be too much for them. They planned to head back in the morning. We all felt a little sad but were glad they joined us for these first few days and made the best decision for their family. 

Day 3:Chilean memorial to Norwegian creek
It was only 6am when the alarm went off. I snuck out of the tent to get breakfast started, enjoying the quiet of the morning alongside the other moms. We relished these few moments of peace before waking up the dads and later, the kids. As soon as the kids were out of the tents, we packed up camp. Just after 8am, I said my goodbyes to Michelle and started heading toward Cape Johnson, the first headland, with our 4-year-old. After finishing packing up breakfast, the rest of the crew were also back on the trail. They all passed me about halfway around the headland, which was a challenging rocky coast with some wet and slippery sections. My little one liked holding my hand while jumping from rock to rock; her unpredictable leaps made her a bit of a loose cannon. The slippery rocks were especially challenging for her, as she had little concept of how to handle them. I anxiously thought back to our last coastal hike, where a green slippery patch threw a wrench in our plans when I fell and dislocated my shoulder. With the tides lapping at our feet, Christian came back to give me a mental break from our little jumper. We had yet another headland to round, so we continued in a similar fashion—Christian going ahead with everyone else and then coming back to help us across the tricky sections. Once we hit the nice hard-packed sandy beach, I breathed a sigh of relief and joined the others for a break. They had settled down for lunch, but a pungent ocean-like smell led them to discover a nearby otter carcass. It wasn’t the first carcass of the trip, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. They were just moving down the beach when I joined them.
The rest of the day was easy, cruising on the hard-packed sand with only small headlands to get around. A highlight for the kids was a steep overland climb with a fixed line. The four-year-old was getting pretty confident about her climbing skills and started ascending the rope by herself. This caused me a moment of panic when I couldn't follow her up the rope, didn’t feel comfortable with her going up by herself, and saw her eager to do the climb. Luckily, Christian quickly came back to assist, which even W was relieved about once she had to make it down the other side.
We reached Norwegian Creek after a 9km day around 2:30pm. There was still plenty of time to explore the beautiful expansive sand beach, play with the great building logs, use the swing, and enjoy the forested campsite. I took the afternoon to take a nap to escape a nasty headache and left the evening routine to Christian. Fortunately, I mostly recovered with just enough time to have a bit of dinner and a snack before bedtime. The guidebook promised 6km of tomorrow’s 10km to be slippery rock, which had us planning for another early start.
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Day 4: Norwegian creek to South sand
I enjoyed another quiet early morning with Krystil before repeating the previous morning's routine. After breakfast and packing up, we headed off from camp for a kilometer of hard-packed beach before encountering the feared slippery rock section that would last most of the day. We reached the rocks, but to our relief, they remained mainly dry and non-slippery. While walking through the various sizes of rocks was tiring, the terrain was generally less technical than the previous morning's headlands. W's rock walking, jumping, and climbing skills had improved significantly, making her more independent. However, she was starting to feel the strain of the trip, and whenever the walking became a bit easier, she would remember how tired she was. When the terrain allowed, Christian would give her a shoulder ride on top of the pack or put the pack down and come back to carry her.
Today we found even more carcasses and started using them as landmarks when radioing back and forth. The stretch was also littered with bones, which our kids gleefully collected like they were Pokémon cards. N insisted on carrying out a heavy, large bone that we presumed was from a whale. About halfway through the rocky section, we found a cool arch and had our first lunch break while watching some "wave TV." This section of the trail lacked the iconic sea stacks, so the waves were much bigger and closer, making the coast feel more exposed. The second half of the rocky section went smoothly as well, and we were happy to be back on the hard-packed sand of Yellow Banks. The last headland to South Sand was interesting and really beautiful, with caves, sea stacks, and interspersed sand. It had been a long day on the trail, so we were happy to roll into camp around 4:30pm. We expected the last day to be smooth sailing, so we celebrated our successful completion of the hardest section.
The campsite was located up on a plateau, so we cooked and set up camp in the forest. After dinner, we headed back to the beach to dance with the waves as the sun was setting. It was a perfect way to end the day.
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Day 5: South Sand to Ozette 
After a couple of hard days, we let the kids sleep in and didn’t hit the hard-packed sand until 11am. The beach was now busy with surfers and day hikers, reminding us that the trip would soon be over. We took a last long break at Sandpoint, absorbing the final ocean views. Just before entering the forest trail, a small deer joined us on the beach, passing by the kids surprisingly and somewhat concerningly close. The forest trail was cruisy but hot. W confidently led the pack, while N, feeling tired, lagged at the back with Christian. One of the other kids took W under their wing, talking to her, carrying her bag, and making sure she had water and snacks. This allowed me to zone out for most of the 5km trail, a welcome mental break.
Once at the trailhead, I left W with Krystil while I started the logistics of the evening—setting up camp and catching the shuttle back to our car. Meanwhile, the kids relaxed in the shade, checked out the lake, played, and enjoyed ice cream and pizza. It was a great way for them to celebrate the end of the trip before the long drive back to BC the next day. 

We made 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.

After a brief test to see if just post-holing with one foot was feasible for the hike out (it wasn't, especially not with a heavy pack, and double-especially not while also supervising out middle kids' ski out) it was time to "fix" my ski. I opted to "finish" the break by cutting through the edges/base just behind the break and re-mounting the toe piece on the tip-half of the ski. That drill bit and screwdriver I've been carrying around for years finally came in handy again! Although it allowed me to make it back to the car I realized later this was a mistake - I should have cut the base off a few inches past the break, such that I could wrap it around the "new" rear end of the ski and screw the base onto the topsheet. As it was, when I would inevitably slide backwards a bit the base could/would catch and peel away from the core, taking the valuable fibreglass layer with it and allowing the tip to bend/break even more and turn into a banana shape. Oh well, next time.
It was a rough year for my aging quiver - in addition to busting my WSP "skimo" skis I ripped the binding out of my Atomic Ultimate 78s (circa 2017), cracked the bellows on another pair of old F1s (circa early 2000s), and ripped the edges out of Line's old Hagan Red Dragons (circa 2008? and repaired them, only to rip more edge out somewhere else and repair again, like 4 times). All of this equipment is super-old, so I can't really complain. Life, as they say, is temporary. Maybe it's time for some new planks.

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 8: Dancing with the wind
The previous night's storminess lingered in the air, but the day commenced beautifully with a ride through a mostly forested section of the national park. Riding side by side, we spun tales all the way to Stenbjerg. Our daydreams of playing on the beach were thwarted by the gusts, prompting a search for a sheltered spot. Luck was on our side as we stumbled upon a playground with a sturdy fence shielding us from the relentless wind. Huddled together close to the fence, Christian and I enjoyed a moment of respite while the kids reveled in play and snacks.
​A quick stop at Vorupør beach allowed us to witness surfers in action. As we rode to Klitmøller, the wind became our ally, hitting us from the side or slightly from the back, creating a sensation of flying. We considered going all the way to Hanstholm but opted for a booked shelter, a charming refuge nestled just behind the outermost dune ridge on private property. Evening at the beach was wild and windy, with the kids captivated by seafoam until sunset.

Day 9: Shaking Shelters and Coastal Bliss
​The night had been windy, causing even our shelter to shake at points, but by morning, the wind had calmed. With an efficient start and a brief beach visit, we were ready to embark after 2.5 hours. The wind now at our backs, we soared along a straight bike path beside the kystvejen, feeling as though we were flying towards Hanstholm. Along the way, we encountered cheers from Mormor and bedste Leif, leaving them a grocery order and planning to meet at Vigsø strand.
In Hanstholm, we cycled beneath towering windmills, an awe-inspiring sight that both fascinated and slightly scared N. The path to Vigsø was a cyclist's dream—smooth hard-packed gravel, undulating coastal terrain, the sea on one side, no cars in sight, and a perfect tailwind. Arriving at Vigsø strand, we set up by a bunker and enjoyed an impressive lunch spread from Mormor. The afternoon was spent swimming, stacking rocks, and exploring bunkers. As late afternoon approached, we headed to the shelter in Madsbøl plantage, nestled deep in the woods. Dinner was provided by Mormor and bedste Leif, and aside from a minor kid-toilet issue, we had a peaceful evening together before bidding our final farewells. During the nightly tick check, both Christian and I discovered ticks, adding a twist to the day's adventures.

Day 10: Exploring Dune Plantage and a Desperate Search for Teddy
Today's journey took us through the diverse landscapes of the dune plantage, featuring wooded areas, grasslands, and heath. Our first major climb took us to the summit of Bulbjerg, a 47m tall limestone knoll, where we captured a classic summit picture. Eager to escape the increasing winds, we quickly moved to a sheltered forest for lunch.
The afternoon of biking extended longer than planned. Our initial campsite lacked amenities, and considering the forecasted wind, we sought a more sheltered spot with a toilet. Biking past 7 pm, we found a wooded shelter area with the luxury of a real flush toilet nearby. With no time to reach the store before closing, we indulged in a feast of accumulated leftovers, generously spreading condiments and devouring bread spreads.
A crisis struck before bedtime when F's beloved Teddy, inherited from her dad, went missing. Emptying all bags proved futile, prompting Christian to embark on an 80 km nighttime bike ride back to the previous campsite. Unfortunately, Teddy remained elusive.

Day 13: Taming the Wind for Amusement
The wind persisted but the storm had subdued enough for us to brave a visit to Faarup Sommerland and relocate to a cabin nearby. The bike ride was manageable without a headwind, and after dropping our belongings at the campsite office, we embraced a day of play in the amusement park.
The park, eerily empty with only a few guests at each ride, became our private playground. We hopped on roller coasters, toured the park on a train, and explored the vastness of Faarup Sommerland. Despite being too large to fully explore in one day, we maximized our time on roller coasters, participated in traffic school, and navigated obstacle courses. The absence of lines allowed us to enjoy each ride repeatedly, creating one of our best amusement park experiences.
However, age caught up with us, and continuous rides left Christian and me feeling a bit woozy by the end. The lack of time for a proper break probably didn't help. With 15 minutes before closing, we raced to try the last two roller coasters and secured a pony ride for the little one. F initially had cold feet but stayed on, thanks to the persuasive efforts of a worker as it turned out to be one of the better rides. N, the ever-calm 6-year-old, maintained her stone-faced smile on the ride picture.
As the park closed, we celebrated our successful day with ice cream before retreating to our comfortable cabin.

Day 14: Marvellous dunes on a long day
With our ferry to Norway looming just one day away, Day 14 presented a long journey ahead. The comfort of our cabin made leaving challenging. Fortunately, the weather was with us, easing the departure. Though there were many tempting stops along the way, time constraints forced us to bypass the famous Løkken, making only a brief visit to the hardware store for fuel.
The wind, still too brisk for a beach stop, led us to a playground in Nr. Lyngby for our break. I, however, couldn't resist the allure of the beach and ventured there alone to check out the coastal view. At Rubjerg Knude fyr, enticed by the mesmerizing sand dunes, we biked the trail to get as close as possible. Eyes squinted and mouths covered, we hiked to the top of the dune, the wind depositing sand in every crevice. While W wasn't impressed, the older kids reveled in the thrill of running down the dunes.
Evening approached as we rolled into Tornby, but we still prioritized an ice cream stop before reaching the shelter site in the Plantage. Nestled in a beautiful location, the site allowed the kids to run through meadows and build imaginary homes in the forest.

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.

Day 2: Viking Adventures and Family Gatherings
The morning brought a visit from Mormor and Bedste Leif, and as the weather wasn't cooperating with its rain, we took our time, hoping for an improvement. Eventually, we made our way to the Viking city nearby, where the kids reveled in making their own tin jewelry, trying out archery, and navigating little boats through the streams.
Today, my sister and her partner followed us in their car, lightening our load. Tante Lene joined us for the bike ride, and N eagerly began biking herself. We started on a small gravel road that later turned into a bike path, with the distant sand dunes of Holmsland drawing nearer. Along the way, we paused to save a few frogs from becoming road casualties, though N's enthusiasm for amphibian rescue tested our patience.
Near Nymindegab, we turned north, cycling along the stunning west coast. The path, though fun with its small ups and downs, proved more challenging than before. By the time we reached Bjerregård, I felt physically spent. The tiny harbor greeted us, and we were fortunate to have the shelters all to ourselves. Moster Lærke and Tante Kent had already started a fire and were preparing flatbread. The kids engaged in a game of camouflage with Kent, though his grasp of their rules remained questionable.
At 3am in the morning Christian arrived by bike - I was already in Denmark visiting family with the girls, but his vacation was just starting. He'd landed in Copenhagen, taken the train to Esbjerg, unboxed/assembled his bike outside the station by headlamp, then biked the 60+ km to catch up to us at the shelter. We spent some time catching up before heading to bed, tired but content.

Day 6: Saying Goodbye to Support
Moster Lærke and I woke up before everyone else and headed down for another round of playing in the waves. I also took turns playing in the water with Christian and F, so most of the morning I spent immersed in the sea. The kids stayed at the beach while I packed up and they reported having the best time.
We bid farewell to Moster Lærke and the support car, and though we would miss having them along, we were ready to continue on our own. It was well past noon when we finally set off. N took the lead on the quiet country road, and once we reached the coast again, we were treated to an incredible bike path along a big sand dune cliff leading to Boving Fyr.
We made a stop to savor the view and allowed the kids to climb the sandy cliff. The amazing bike path continued to Ferring, where we got back on the road before joining another beutiful path for the last 8 kilometers along Harboøer Tange. While the bike path was excellent, the headwind made it seem to stretch on endlessly, with no end in sight.
In Thyborøn, the kids were eager to explore the numerous bunkers dotting the landscape. Some were partially cleared of sand, allowing us to walk or crawl through them. The kids relished exploring with their headlamps, and one of the bunkers could even serve as a shelter, though we opted to set up our tent by the washroom instead for convenience.
That night Christian got to enjoy the day's route a second (and third!) time - I'd accidentally left our combination solar panel / lantern when packing up at the last shelter, which we didn't notice until it got dark; the kids were quite upset about it, so he biked back to retrieve it. The 60 bonus km trip in a heavy rain would make for the second time he rolled into camp near 3 am. For a portion he tried the alternate route on the sand spit between the Ferring Sø and the North Sea - it was apparently not recommended as sand dunes have enveloped the trail in many places. He reported seeing more frogs that night than the rest of his life combined.

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. 

The tent was set up in the little meadow in front of the cabin with the small river running right passed it. We cooked dinner in the dark on a rock outside the hut, checked out the new massive outhouse and headed off to bed. The next morning I headed off for an alpine hike. I was planning to head up towards Mt Marriott, but on my way to the upper basin I got turn around and started heading towards the ridge west of the basin. Not because I got lost, but because I somehow thought I had memorized the map and just didn't bother to look at it. Eventually I found the hiking pretty lame and decided to look at the map and realized my mistake. It wasn't catastrophic by any means, but I had waste valuable time travelling on some lame loose rock. I decided to head up to the upper lake, take a quick peak over the North ridge and then started heading back down. I decided that I had time for a dip in the lake. It did not feel like fall as the weather was hot and the air slightly smoky, but the lake brought me back to reality and it ended up being a very quick dip. On the way down I spotted a family of ptarmigans, they were well camoflaged, so I didn't see them until I was close enough to hear them. Reunited with my own family I sent Christian off for his shot at Mt. Marriott. 

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. ​

We set up camp right on the ridge a short distance from the summit. There was no water, but a snow patch provided what we needed in addition to hours of entertainment for F and H.  Sandra and E went to summit Brandywine, while Scott and I tried to find a flat spot to set up our tents. Turns out ridges are not particularly flat, but I did eventually manage to identify a heathery hole that worked out pretty well, and the views sure were gorgeous. One of the cool things about the Alcoholic traverse is that you can see most of the route (or at least the ridge you travel below) both from the beginning and the end of the trip. As opposed to our normal family trips, we had arrived in camp early and it was nice to be able to set up camp, cook dinner and enjoy the views with lots of time to spare before sun down. 

Next morning we were out of camp around 8.30am. The continuous off-trail travel turned out to be somewhat challenging for F, especially on the downhills or on the loose rocks. We would quickly fall behind, and hiking with mom is just not distracting enough to forget about how hard it is, so it was challenging at times. The terrain was amazing though with Pyroclastic and Cayley constantly on the horizon. We had a long day ahead of us, so we all tried to help F the best we could, Scott took her backpack and H tried stayed in the back with us, so they could immerse themselves into imaginative games inspired by the eerie-looking volcanic choss mountains surrounding us. They renamed Mt. Fee "Mount Sinister Doom" and worked on plans to defeat the evil mountain. 

We arrived at camp around 6pm. I quickly set up the tent and started a pot of pasta so big that I quickly started missed Christian. I am not used to the responsibility of finishing all the food; I was seriously full. Just as the light was starting to diminish the second group arrived. They had left from Brandywine that morning with 5 adults and 2 kids aged 10 and 7.  I said a quick hi, but retreated to the tent soon thereafter. While I was getting the last things ready F joined the Nelson's tent for a round of classic Stan Roger's songs. She really enjoyed it and she was not the only one, soon all the kids were gathered around listening and singing. ​I decided to check the forecast before going to bed. It now called for rain overnight as oppose to later in the day Sunday. F and I were in a hand-me-down tent, that we had tested under the hose in the garden earlier in the week. It clearly leaked. We had attempted a fix of the seems, but as I set it up earlier that evening the waterproof coating had drizzled down on the inner tent like a pre-school art piece with too much glitter. Luckily I had brought a tarp as well in anticipation of such problems, but despite of my careful tarp setup, a rectangle is just fundamentally the wrong shape for a fly, so I didn't sleep much. The wind blew the tarp around, creating a cacophony of flapping and vibrating. I considered taking it down again, but eventually it did start raining and the tapping of the rain somehow made the flapping more bearable.

Interlude: Period Shenanigans
Shortly after leaving the car on the first day I discovered that my period had started. During the pre-trip packing I had looked at my menstrual cup, but thought to myself, that it was definitely not that time a month yet, so I left it. So here I was on the first day of a four day trip and no period supplies. Luckily I hadn't used my Kula cloth yet, so I converted it to reusable pad by clipping it around my underwear. This worked quite well for the first two days, but by the second night flow had picked up and I needed something more. Sandra offered me a few abdominal dressing pads from the first aid kit. I was initially quite pleased with their performance, but on the third day I discovered why the adhesive on the back of the pad is essential - especially when hiking. The pad slowly worked its way back and up my bum where it now soaked up all the rainwater running down my back while the blood soaked my underwear and pants. Sharing this delightful fact with the group I discovered that although none of the females on the trip had any period supplies - Tim did. At Brew hut he supplied me with a small handful of small pads, that I estimate might have spent most of a decade in his first aid kit, and although the adhesive was not as it used to be, it sure was better than none.