Cradled by the Woods: Our First Adventure as Three

My husband and I recently took our two-month-old daughter camping for the first time in the peak week of October, and it was the most magical trip. We didn’t have to travel to the majesty out west. We didn’t have to fly overseas. All the splendor of this trip was found in the cozy joy of sharing our favorite thing to do with our new daughter right here in our home state of Kentucky.

I was so nervous to do it. We had been backpacking and camping countless times, just the two of us, but adding a baby into the equation felt like a certain sort of madness. How worried I was that she would cry the whole time, go on a breast-feeding strike, or freeze to death overnight! I prayed fervently to God that those things would not happen, and I’m blessed to say He delivered.

The trip started with me feeding our daughter – here I’ll call her E – in the car while my husband hiked the gear into camp. When it was finally time for me to strap her on and step foot into the woods myself, the excitement that rushed over me felt purposeful and right. The sight of her tucked against me as my companion in this beautiful natural place sent me leaping over the leaves with a giddy squeal. I laughed out loud to the trees at the realization of what was now unraveling before me. The moment we had talked about since our first camping trips was finally here. And we hadn’t failed yet. We were doing it! I was struck by the fact that as plainly as I was standing in a golden forest autumn leaves, I was standing in the middle of a memory I would hold onto forever.

At the campsite E bounced contentedly under a tarp while we set up in a light rain. I’ve always appreciated the humbling nature of camp chores. Spending a large portion of time building shelter, cooking meals, and making fires is an exercise in tenacity and trust, but also in simplicity. There is only one task to focus on – that of survival. To worry about anything else would seem silly and irrelevant in the grand perspective that is gained in the woods. A product of a smooth partnership developed over many previous trips, our tents, tarps, and bedding were pitched in no time. It was at last time to take E on her first hike in the Red River Gorge.

I love a walk in the woods any time, but in the peak week of October is a special sort of medicine. The trails looked like oil paintings. I wanted to freeze each frame of what I saw. The colors were so vibrant and varied I wanted to take them home with me to somehow preserve their beauty – so I did! I plucked many alluring leaves, each – like a snowflake – so different in its patterns of fading chlorophyll. Greens lending to reds, oranges, and purples. How happy it was to have a colorful collection in my hand to glance down upon as we traversed twists, turns, and scraggles. I patiently look forward to the day when E and I will collect leaves together and craft them into frames, garlands, or pretty patterns on paper. But for now, I will bask in her smallness.

She looked so tiny and curious bouncing along against my husband’s chest. It is so easy to marvel at her experiencing the world for the first time. How cozy she seemed zipped into his jacket, and I felt equally so. The warmth of the woods was like an insulating blanket around us, encapsulating our little family from the outside world. So blissfully at home I felt in this quiet presence. So safe I felt in this peace. Not only that, but I felt goodness. I felt forgiving. I felt like the world needed more friendly people in it, starting with me. I noticed my mind clear and my heart soften as I harmoniously took part in the blessed balance of God’s masterful creation. I concluded that as dirty as I got in the woods, I sure did feel clean.

Under a stained-glass ceiling of sunlit leaves we walked, captivated by the brilliance of rubies, emeralds, and golds shining above us.  When at last our rolling serpentine trail delivered us to the viewpoint on the ridge line, it so happened to be time to feed E. But when we pulled her from her carrier, she could barely focus for being so enamored by the vast wonder surrounding her – a steep ridge flanked on three sides by mountainous landscape below and teeming with the warm beloved hues of autumn. Though she isn’t old enough to see perfectly yet, I could tell she understood the awe inspired by this magnificent scene. It stilled her. Peacefully she stared in amazement, as in amazement I stared at her.

I clutched her tightly, painstakingly aware of our closeness to the edge. But my fear was met with elation. How full circle it felt to be sharing our favorite thing with our new daughter, and to see her enjoying it too. I fed her on the ridge in the snuggly wrap of my flannel, taking turns gazing at the view and gazing at her, but sunset was approaching, so it was time to hustle back to camp if we were to make it before dark.

A honeycrisp apple in one hand with a honey cinnamon peanut butter packet in the other was the most magical trail snack at the edges of my sleeves as we retraced our steps over scraggly roots that formed an enchanting storybook staircase before us. The treetops tunneled overhead to complete the picture with a long and grand arborous archway. So glowing and inviting it was as the setting sun shined through layers of yellow leaves that it could have been a hallway to some long sought hidden treasure, or even the entryway to Heaven itself. I stretched my flannel clad arms wide so as to involve myself in a hug with the moment. I savored the sight of every last bend and branch that guided us back to camp.

The sweet rich incense of the campfire coughing its char into the cool air sealed off our night with a mischievous wink at the day. With chili in one hand and Oktoberfest in the other we watched the flames dance into smoke and dissipate into the night sky casting clouds over a spooky moon. Nursing a baby by the fire while wrapped in a thick pile of jackets and blankets unlocked a special kind of hygge. I was simultaneously warmed from the inside and outside as she got what she needed while I got what I needed.

When it came time to retire to our tent, we bundled E up in coats and camping quilts until she resembled a giant marshmallow. She stayed toasty all night, and by morning I was feeling immensely relieved as all my worries about her freezing overnight dissipated. We were in fact too cozy to get up for a while, so we rose slowly before eventually enjoying the best sizzling breakfast of sausage, eggs, and coffee by the fire.

Breakfast in the woods is my favorite thing. Breakfast is already my favorite meal of the day, but there is something so wonderfully natural about savoring hot food that you managed to cook in the middle of the wilderness. And there is no better way to warm the soul than sipping fresh black coffee to the sound of birdsong as you study the tree line on a crisp morning.

The sun rose higher, coercing us to pack up the camp that always so quickly comes to feel like a home. Taking our time we did so, but not before eating some chocolate and stretching under the late morning sun. Tearing down always takes longer than setting up, not only because you must wrestle all your gear back into tiny stuff sacks, but also because we are never in a hurry to get back to civilization. With the car packed we decided to embark on one more quick tiny hike to kiss the trip goodbye before we hopped in for some pizza.

We always look forward to our first post-camping meal, and at the Gorge, you don’t have to leave the park to find a niche pizza place that is famous among those who frequent the area. A hot meal made for you after you’ve been surviving in the woods is a special kind of delicious. And though this popular hub for campers is always booming with business, it never feels chaotic like you might expect. Nestled still between the wooded ridges and filled with casual personalities of those who also spend lots of time outdoors, the atmosphere feels softly bountiful, calm, and down to earth. How pleasant it was to sit under the patio lights amongst other campers, feed our baby girl, and enjoy each other’s company over good food.

Though I was grateful for every moment of it, it seemed we were back on the road to home all too soon. I was mournful to return but felt equally proud at the successful turning of such a grand page in this new chapter of life. No matter how many dirty diapers we had to pack out, how many times we had to locate and readminister an evasive lost mitten, how many layers we had to take on and off with each diaper change, or how many times I inevitably woke up to check on her, this was one of my favorite camping trips yet.

How eager we are to bring E back to the woods. How we long to share with her the peace of nature’s slow pace, to carry her through the mountains, to rock her beside streams, to let her feel the earth, to sit her before the fire, to give her a pretty flower to hold, or to let a bug crawl on her little finger. How much we cherish the thought of one day hearing her own exclamations at the trees, the creatures, and views, watching her sticky face light up as she tries her first s’more, and looking down to see her tiny boot prints alongside ours in the dirt of the many trails we will traverse together.