The Moments That Matter Most

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This weekend, I took my oldest five kids up backpacking. (Wife stayed home with the 2 year old.) Unlike the King’s Peak trip last year, this one was fairly benign. We hiked about 3 miles to this lake and camped nearby in this meadow. We did climb up an 11,500 feet mountain. (Well, the two oldest did. My five year old froze at this rocky part of the ascent, and so I took him back, and the seven and nine year olds followed.) This was the first time I went with my kids on a two night backpacking trip. Food (or lack thereof) became a much bigger issue. My 13 year old boy and I had to carry an extra sleeping bag for the five and seven year olds.

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Filthy Rags

A few months after I got baptized into the LDS church, I had a good Protestant friend of mine invite me to go on this backpacking trip with him and his parents. I thought nothing of it, I hung out at their house many times over the years. My friend and his parents were always doing outdoor adventures. We start off at a meadow early, then climb up this mountain, then scramble along this ridge until we come to the trail to this lake. By the time we get there, it is late in the evening, and we set up camp.

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