I Did Ecstasy With My 14-Year-Old Son on a Camping Trip

A story about navigating by joy

Photo by Rick Lewis

“Nooooo!”

I heard the wail of my son’s protest behind me.

I was about to make a wrong turn off of the trail, but I didn’t realize it until my kid cried out with disappointment.

We were on the second half of our camping trip—cycling the Olympic Discovery Trail on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington state.

We’d covered about 30 miles a day through pastures of wildflowers, old-growth forest, coastal trails, and the quiet back streets of quaint towns. My son had four saddle bags with our clothes and some tools. I was towing a trailer with our camping gear and my legs were feeling every hill.

But on the morning of day three as we began the journey home we stumbled upon the ecstasy of effort.

Cities. Modern housing. Electronic devices. They’re wired to make us feel like everything is all downhill. And yet we pay a dear price to have a perpetual wind of convenience at our backs. We forget how to labor in harmony with the elements.

It had taken a few days, but finally our minds and bodies stopped treating the landscape like an adversary to be conquered. We’d fallen in sync with the rhythm of its changing terrain, elevation, temperature, and air currents. And suddenly we realized that most of the forest and coastline we were due to cover on day three were behind us.

It was the first time my son had experienced runner’s high, in this case, cyclist’s ecstasy—where the body finds peace at an ambitious pace and the spirit grows calm in a flurry of motion. Our conversation had followed suit—easy, natural, curious, and joyful. We’d burned through the ennui of couch-creature existence by drinking air, scenery, and sunlight. Now we were sharing insights, trading curiosity, talking about physical and intellectual potential, discussing the mindset of elite athletes and what it takes to unlock our full human potential.

“I wonder what the average lifespan of a sumo wrestler is?” my son mused.

We glided past a meadow filled with baby Christmas trees and summer dandelions, endless rows of green and yellow as far as the eye could see. No billboards, no headlines, no trending gossip or news. We were basking in the wide open expanse of high-quality boredom which was giving rise to delightful questions and I realized we weren’t in the ordinary world anymore. We’d jumped into an alternate universe, one that defied usual limits and offered a greater range of possibilities.

It was then that I playfully suggested we should skip our last overnight and just keep riding all the way home.

But when we reached the end point of the day’s planned route the force of my usual thinking started veering toward the trail exit and the campground reservation that was waiting for us.

That’s when my kid cried out in disappointment.

I’d introduced the possibility of an exciting challenge, suggesting we might transform two full days of effort into a single wave of harmonious motion, and complete a daunting task fueled by nothing but joy. But now I was back-pedaling, giving authority to my inner bureaucrat who was determined to stick to a practical plan.

It happened in the span of a few seconds—my near-exit, the wail of protest, and then realizing in a flash that we were on the Discovery Trail for gosh sakes, and that a rigid commitment to retrace our previous path was completely contrary to the evolution of our journey.

The moment I glided past that exit I could feel it was the right thing to do. And my son was clearly aligned with this course. But that was before either of us knew that this new route would allow us to by-pass miles of this . . .

Photo by ms uppy on Unsplash

. . . in favor of this.

Photo by Rick Lewis

As it turned out, our decision allowed us to experience a coastal section of the Discovery Trail which turned out to be the most spectacular segment of our trip.

We did, in fact, make it all the way home that day.

Truth be told, I’m still recovering a few days later, but my kid is ready to do ecstasy with me again once I’m ready for further discovery.

So I’m resting up, because it’s more than any parent could ask for.

Saturday Is Story Sharing Day

Saturday, August 10th, 9 am PST

Open to all subscribers.

Here’s this week’s prompt.

Tell a story about a time you followed your joy instead of your plan and what happened as a result.

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