So we tell you a lot about the hikes that are awesome and Maggie summits and there's music in the air and everyone goes home happy and proud and eating gummy worms. Then there's the other sort of hike. The kind that begins 5 miles outside of Durango with a little voice from the backseat: "Daddy, Mommy forgot to buckle me in." And sure enough, we have to pull the car over for Bill to jump out and actually put her in her carseat since Mom was too distracted or tired or something to do it when we actually left the house. Then we get to our destination and we start down the trail but turn around to go to the outhouse. Then turn around again to get the hats and mittens out of the car. Then go 5 minutes before a little voice complains about being chilly-willy and wanting water and needing a snack. So we pick out a good rock for a pick-me-up and try again but it's no different so the little one goes up on Daddy's shoulders so we can hoof it back to the lake for a real picnic and rock throwing. Except it's a sandy beach with no rocks to skip and Maggie pees just standing and looking at the water, so off come the tights and the socks and the shoes with the hats and the mittens and the picnic involves neighbor-picked apples with worms or dropped apples in the sand and Eliza is shivering because she went into the lake after an apple bit and we decide it's beautiful here in the fall and the sand feels nice on bare toes and that a couple of candy corns in the car with a movie sound like a good idea.
And, by the way, the mountain biking was indeed awesome. Maggie handled the dirt like a pro. In a year or so, we can join her up with the local bike club and she can do this sort of thing with twenty other little kiddos and a couple enthusiastic bike leader dudes. Have we mentioned that Durango is awesome for a kid like Maggie?
35
36
37
38
