My first camping trip with Henry was a complete success. I planned conservatively and booked a single night at a campground around 60 miles away. If the weather turned poor or something else went sideways, we could chuck everything in the Ranger and be home in a little over an hour.





Thankfully, nothing of the sort happened. As I began digging the gear out of the garage, Henry paced inside the house wearing his hat, windbreaker, and boots. We were still an hour away from being ready to leave, but Henry was ready at that moment. It was very exciting to know he was that pumped about the trip, though it did put the pressure on Dad to make sure I delivered.


We settled into Granite Creek later that afternoon. Henry eagerly helped pitch the 2-man tent, wiggled around inside it, and then headed down to the creek with his excavator and dump truck. I snapped pictures of him and read a book as he dug in the gravel, drove cars in and out of the water, stomped around in his XTRA-TUF boots, and happily got dirtier and dirtier. The blaring sun fooled us into forgetting that 7pm was upon us and we still hadn’t eaten dinner.



With hot dogs in our stomachs we then loaded up the bike trailer and pedalled down the trail towards Hope. Henry dozed off on our ride, but soon perked up when we pulled into camp and his ears caught wind of the word “s’mores.”


The midnight sun was a bit of a challenge for tent sleeping, but Henry did fall asleep somewhat near his normal time. The problem was in waking up at 6:30 thanks to the blazing sunlight. After a few pancakes we found ourselves cleaning up camp and bound for the Girdwood’s playground.


All around it was a victory. We’ve already booked 2 nights in August at another campground, which Henry is very pumped about. Now we need to get a larger tent and get Mommy and Piper out there next summer.




The greatest moment -- the water pump. Over and over again, the water pump.