Hiking the Rim Trail at 75 - Fall 2019

                “What’s the most you’ve ever hiked in a day, Dad?”

                “Oh… I don’t know.” Dad mused over his slightly smushed Subway sandwich. “We did some long days when you were a kid, but really nothing like this.” 

                “Seriously, when was the last time, in a single day you put one foot in front of the other for over 20 miles?”

                “Well, there was that time I jogged home from Wilmington.” My father stared out over the undulating double-lake-vista of Marlette and Tahoe shimmering in the mid-day sun. 

                “Oh yeah.” I said, “I’ve heard this story before; that was in high school, right?”

                “Yup. It was about 20 miles.”

                “So today is it, then.” I beamed. “The longest single-day hike of your life. Completed when you are about to turn 75 years old.”

                “That’s assuming I make it.”

                “Fair point.”

                My father did make it that day, 24 miles from Mt. Rose Pass to Spooner Summit, just like he made it through each of the other 8 sections to complete all 175 miles of the Tahoe Rim Trail, the full circumnavigation. Pretty darn epic for an old dude. 

                Some parts of the trail, he knocked out this season in section hikes and overnights, others he completed years ago with The Tahoe Rim Trail Association and on earlier multi-day adventures with family. All the while, he tracked his progress on a waterproof foldable map, highlighting sections completed and plotting the next adventure. 

                On some of the final hikes, Michael, my 9-year-old son came along entertaining us with his silly antics and moderating our political debates.

                “Dad, do you want a pine nut?” Michael asked.

                “Sure thing.” I said while starting to chew. “I didn’t know you brought these.”

                “I didn’t.”

                “Did Poppy?”

                “No.”

                “Where did you get them then?”

                “The ground.”

The Rim Trail experience was really good for Michael as well. He even started highlighting his own map just like his Poppy.

“Hey Michael, tell me the best part about hiking on the Rim Trail.”

“Ummm… Well, the best part was definitely when Poppy and I got lost.”

“Really, you mean when I had to back track to find you on another trail.” I laughed. “I guess that’s why they call it ‘Desolation Wilderness.’ That was your favorite?”

 “Un-hunh, but now we have a better communication thingy.”

“Communication thingy?” I asked.

“Yeah, the arrows and messages in the trail, like ‘Hey you, go this way.’

 “I guess that was kind of fun.”

“Yeah. I even got to use my compass when we were really lost.”

“Very true.”

                Having Michael along for our adventures certainly helped the miles go by, he was also a tangible reminder to my dad off how important it was for him to see this goal to its fruition.

                Old age is not an abstraction for my parents, it manifests itself in Mom’s recent hip replacement, my father’s waning eyesight, and the ailments plaguing many of their contemporaries.  Perhaps because of this, they seem to forge ahead with an exuberance bordering on childlike-abandon into projects and escapades.

                That’s awesome. I’m proud of them. And glad that I’m able to help support some of their efforts in whatever small way that I can.

When I was younger, I rebelled against so much of what my parents tried to teach me. I chose a profession in the public sector, I went far away to college, and I carved out a philosophical and political identity for myself in stark contrast to theirs.

Now that I’m a bit older, in some ways I think we’ve met in the middle. Not when it comes to politics, but certainly about the value of connecting with the natural world and getting out into that world pushing boundaries and setting idealistic goals, like hiking the whole damn Tahoe Rim Trail. Way to go, Dad!