Adventuring Through America’s National Parks
We intently listened to Tom explain the tradition he had with his son. Visiting all of the major league baseball fields in the US seemed like quite the feat.
We had never heard of parents doing something like this before, but it seemed like such a wonderful idea. Over the years they were able to have a shared interest and goal, despite the inevitable storms of childhood and adolescence, they each would return to this common ground.
Desiring the same unshakable foundation with our children, we put our heads together. Especially since they were adopted, we thought it would be important for them to feel prioritized, rooted, and loved. Having two girls and two boys, we wanted to think of something we could all do together.
Paul and I had always enjoyed the great outdoors through our dating and years of marriage — we had such grand adventures.
As far as we were concerned, America’s National Parks were our country’s greatest treasure, and could think of no greater inheritance for our children. We loved what they had to offer. Preserved by those before us, Paul and I understood the delicate balance of being both consumers and stewards, and we hoped to be able to share this with them.
The Plan
We made a plan and mapped it out. Our adventure would span over the next six years and consist of loops all over the continental US. The goal was to finish the summer before Lydia headed off to college. Visiting parks in a drive-line would maximize our park visits and minimize our time on the road.
All year, Paul would make camping reservations for the places we intended to visit. We researched activities and picked our favorite things to do. Mapping out how long it would take us to get there and how many night stays we would need to accomplish our goals, we carefully laid out a plan.
When it came time to adventure, we packed the trailer, and the kids in the car before we hit the road. Games, books, journals, academics, and electronics helped us bide our time together. It always seemed to pass quickly, and any tragedy became another part of the master plan.
Dealing With the Unexpected
Unfortunately, we finally met our match in the summer of 2020. As COVID-19 ravished the world we wondered if this would trump all other mishaps and bring our tradition to a grinding halt.
Reservations had been made and carefully laid out. This year we would travel inland, up north and into Canada (passports in hand), on our way to the Alaskan frontier. We had our jackets, all-weather boots and bells. As we reviewed safety protocol for the wildlife we’d possibly encounter, our kids were not sure they would be up to the challenge. “I don’t want to see a Grizzly Bear!” It was going to be a summer to remember.
As we entered March and the world started to buckle down, we wondered if it would even be possible. “Are you guys still planning to travel?” Our family was concerned for our safety. When the borders closed we prayed it wouldn’t be for long. Determined to finish strong, our summer plans were still at the forefront of our minds.
I am not sure I will be able to convey the disappointment we felt when we realized it was a no-go. One month out, the quarantine time required to cross into Canada was too much. We had to face reality. All the time spent making reservations, gathering supplies, all for not. It felt surreal. Surely this can’t be happening.
But there is no fighting a pandemic. We had to resign ourselves to the fact that we held no power to fix it. We just had to accept it.
What Now?
The kids’ minds raced as they tried to sort out all of the details. “So when are we going to go?” It was difficult for us to watch them as they suffered one more loss. Next summer. “Does that mean we won’t be going to Disney World?” We would have to push that off until the following summer. “But I’ll be in college by then! There’s no way I could afford that.” Lydia had been told the repercussions of becoming an adult. “We’ll cover the cost.”
No matter how much we tried to reassure our children that it would all be okay, we desperately felt the loss of the situation. Each day Paul told me where we would be if it all hadn’t fallen through. It was part of him processing his own grief. Email alerts littered my phone often with ghost reminders of camping reservations we had to cancel.
Today marks Paul’s first day back to work, and only five more days before the rest of us start school. I am not ready. Six more months of this awful pandemic — I try not to think too far ahead. It is in memory of all that should have been, and all that we’ve lost, that I post today.
In hope of tomorrow and a time when, once again, all will be right with our world. The space where life perseveres, plans play out, and traditions safely continue. My eyes are set on the finish line, wherever it may lay.
2014
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