10 Family Adventures for Those Last Two Weeks of Summer

We’ve spent a lot of time in Northwest Arkansas - years! - only to JUST discover the beautiful Tanyard Creek Trail in Bella Vista.

We’re in that late summer vacation window. The hot, lazy days that drag on but we know are so short-lived. School's coming, boredom exists but the time feels short, and a big trip isn't really on the table anymore. This is exactly the window where "adventure is up to the person participating" is important to see. It’s that final hurrah of time when you want to squeeze the last drops of fun that can fit - the ice cream, swimming, memories, and outings - before earlier mornings, tighter schedules, and different responsibilities settle back in.

We put together some ideas for some local-focused fun. None of these require more than a couple hours from home or much of a budget, and every one of them is a real adventure if you or the kids have never done them before.

1. Find a local "first" hike. Not the trail you always do, but a new (even short) one, within about 30-60 minutes of home. New terrain, even nearby, resets a kid's sense of exploration. Bonus points if it has water accessibility along the way for a cool break along the way.

2. Build a backyard or local-park campout. Tent, headlamps, one "camp meal" cooked outside, and if you can swing it, actually sleeping out there. This is a genuinely great trial run before a real camping trip, the preamble to some cooler fall camping trips, and low-stakes with amenities easily reachable.

3. Do a sunrise or sunset outing. Pick a local high point, lake, or open field and go watch the sky do its thing. Kids remember these more than you'd expect, and it costs nothing but a slightly rough wake-up. See if some friends would like to join!

4. Water day, however you can get it. A local river, lake, splash pad, or even a sprinkler-and-water-balloon backyard setup. Late summer heat makes this an easy win. Parents, let this include you.

5. Geocaching or a scavenger hunt hike. Turn a regular trail into a hunt with a free geocaching app, or make your own list of things to find - a certain leaf shape, a bug, a specific color in nature. Purpose changes how kids experience the same trail. We also have the 30-page Keyword Adventure Trail Guide that includes a pre-made scavenger hunt list (among other lightweight games) and other fun intro-to-adventure education for the whole family.

This is our Keyword Adventure Trail Guide ebook! 30 Pages of fun information and facts about adventure activities, terminology, games, knots, and more.

6. Visit a local nature center or small museum you've been meaning to get to. These are chronically underrated by families who live nearby and "can go anytime" which usually means it’s always put off (for us locally, it’s the Missouri Institute of Natural Science with real dinosaur skeletons!). Two weeks left of summer is the perfect deadline that gets it on the calendar.

7. Bike a new-to-you trail or greenway. Even a familiar town looks different from a bike, and a new stretch of trail is an easy half-day adventure. Check out the AllTrails or TrailForks apps if you need trail finders and resources in one place.

8. Plant something and make it a project. Not glamorous, but genuinely great for connecting kids to the idea that nature is something you tend, not just visit. A late-summer planting, a small garden bed, even a pot on the porch. By now, some of our spring-sewn plants have run their course and it frees up space for something new.

9. Do a "no phones" outdoor evening. Fire pit, flashlight tag, stargazing, whatever fits your space. The magic here is less about the activity and more about the uninterrupted attention.

10. Let your kid plan the last adventure of summer themselves. Hand them a map, a short list of nearby options, or just the question "what do you want our last summer adventure to be?" Kids engage differently with a plan they had a hand in building, and it's a nice way to close out the season on their terms. We know we always craved for time on rivers as kids!

Why the "last two weeks" window matters:

There's something about a deadline that makes people actually do the things they meant to do all summer, or maybe reflect on how fast the time passed. No regrets if you didn’t get to the things you had in mind at the beginning of the summer: that’s just life. We treat these last two weeks less like an obligation to cram in fun and more like a chance to slow down and spend good time together… the exact opposite instinct of a packed vacation. Some of our best family memories have come from a random Tuesday afternoon thirty minutes from home. Plus, appreciating that adventures that are close to home gives us the ability and experience to return to them throughout the year.

Happy summer, everyone, and we wish you a great return to the school year and routine!

Self-Care In Small Spaces (Part 2)

Even with the gift of closeness, sometimes you need some solo time to recharge.

Get ready for a dive into the sensory side of self-care in small spaces!

Building on Part 1, we couldn’t resist talking about how each of our senses contributes to our stress or our well-being. Researchers have noted that the multi-sensory quality of nature matters precisely because monotony of stimulation can itself be a source of stress — in other words, our senses need nature in our lives. Let’s go.

Sight.

Have you heard the saying “a sight for sore eyes”? It’s all about what relaxes your eyes. Most of us don’t think of our eyes needing rest unless we’ve been in front of a computer too long. But our faces, scalps, jaws, and necks hold a lot of tension, and all those tiny muscles push and tug on each other as one webbed unit. Try this: close your eyes, let your jaw relax enough to leave a little space between your teeth, let your tongue rest low instead of pressing against the roof of your mouth, and — here’s the part you’ve been waiting for — let the muscles behind your eyes relax. Even just becoming aware of those muscles makes an instant difference. Beyond closing your eyes for a while, you can ease into the day with dim light that brightens gradually, and dim the lights for the last hour or two before bed. Candlelight, anyone?

Hearing.

Until I had a child with sensory sensitivities, I didn’t realize I have some of my own. For example, there’s a comfort for me in having the laundry running in the background — a warm, homey feeling. But there’s also a subtle tension that builds in my whole body throughout the day until the moment the dryer switches off and the house falls silent. My entire body relaxes and I usually sigh with some subconscious relief. I don’t know what it is about that mechanical hum, but I feel a release when it stops. Now think of all the sounds around us each day, subtle and not: air conditioners, computers, cars, music, television, voices, pets. This is where silence and time in nature come into play again — and if you play your cards well, going outside can soothe several senses at once. It’s a great case for forest bathing, which Time Magazine featured well.

Smell.

You don’t think about smells in everyday life until you’re hit by one extreme end of the good-smell-vs.-bad-smell spectrum. Wet dog and spring flowers both make us aware of smells, obviously with very different reactions. The idea here is that the smells around us — particularly in boats or RVs — can start to hint that life’s been going on a while and it’s time to do laundry, wash the dogs, or deep-clean. Maybe you can’t do it all in one night and need to give your schnoz a break. Certain essential oils can help if you have them; a couple of our favorites are lavender and bergamot. Baking bread or cookies, brewing coffee, even burning sage can freshen a space. And opening the windows to the smell of rain, river, ocean, or just plain nature instantly lifts the scents and changes the whole tone.

Taste.

You’ve heard the phrase “leave a different taste in your mouth.” That’s just it: sometimes we get desensitized and homogenized in our sense of taste, falling into a rut with the food we buy and eat. So start simple, with water — a palate cleanser and instant hydrator that tastes subtly different from every place it comes from. I can tell you the tap water in Phoenix tastes drastically different from water straight off a glacier in Montana. More than any specific taste, though, it’s about slowing down to study and savor the flavor and texture of easy-to-find things: an orange, chocolate, cheeses, coffee. Remember the scene in “Into the Wild” where he tells an apple how amazing it is? That’s zen-level food appreciation.

Touch.

Check in with your body. Do your clothes feel tight or itchy? Have you been “touched out” for the day, parents and caregivers? Switch what you can: change clothes, declare a space bubble for a while, get comfortable in soft, satiny, or fuzzy materials — or just go bare, for Pete’s sake. (Skinny-dipping, admittedly, is more than the thrill of being naked outdoors; it’s a completely different sensory sensation.) When my dad passed away, there was a lot of pressure on my sister and me to wrap up his estate and funeral planning, on top of the grief and loss we were processing. I found myself craving a cold-water plunge — it was as though I’d gone so numb and shut off to feeling anything else that frigid water was what my body needed to reset and feel semi-normal again. When I found that perfect cold body of water, I did exactly that, and it gave me the kind of touch sensation I needed at the time. An instant shock, yes, but the zap of sensation snapped me awake again on every level.

Self-care might seem like a buzzword these days, a partner to the mindfulness movement.

Whatever you call it, taking time to care for yourself in a comprehensive, whole-being way can make a big difference in your daily pleasure and your enjoyment of travel. Plus, when you fill your own pitcher, you have more to give the people traveling alongside you — and everyone benefits. Enjoy your adventures!

Self-Care in Small Spaces (Part 1)

Living with other people in smaller accomodations can be an adjustment.

Living with family, friends, or travel companions of any sort is a dream many are striving toward.

And while full- or part-time travel together in small spaces is full of incredible high points, it has inevitable challenges too. One of those is how a person manages personal, peace-reaching self-care while on the move. It’s not always possible to get away for a day, so here are some ways to tend your patience, peace, and serenity for the long haul. Let’s start outward and move inward.

The environment around us.

Consider the place that surrounds you — everything you see and touch every day. If you live with other people, some of it is yours and some is likely someone else’s. Do you feel relaxed and peaceful in your living and working spaces? If not, try this quick exercise: sit down where you normally do, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. With your eyes shut, picture the space around you and what fills it. First, notice what you really love and what makes you feel good there — objects, people, feelings. Then ask which objects don’t feel like they belong or don’t make you feel good. Get up, gather those objects, and move them outside for the rest of this exercise. Sit back down in the same spot, close your eyes again, and notice how it feels now. Are there feelings in the space that make you feel less than good, and is there a way to change that? Music, a lit candle, a conversation, open windows, or a quick tidy might help. Maybe those objects outside just belong in different places, put away completely, or let go for good. This is a quick way to refresh the environments you spend the most time in — and it can make a huge difference in how you feel, how your relationships connect, how productive or creative you are, and especially how you rest.

Social sprucing-up.

Is there someone you look forward to seeing because you always walk away energized? Or a setting full of people and interactions that inspires you? Take a break — away from the people you live with — to connect with that person. Self-care in the social realm is just this: pick up the phone, buy the ticket, go to the class. Whatever it is for you, taking time to connect with another person is sometimes even more refreshing than a day of meditation. They’re different, and both quite potent. It starts with reserving the time and taking the first step.

Getting physical.

In small spaces like an RV, boat, or tiny home (or, let’s face it, during quarantine, any space can start to feel small), getting exercise can be a challenge unless you go outside. But that’s good! Time in nature has been found to benefit our well-being on every level. A Yale ecopsychology review noted that the body of research on nature’s health effects is approaching a thousand studies, all pointing the same direction: time in nature isn’t just nice to have — it’s essentially a have-to-have for physical health and cognitive functioning. If you have a regular workout, take it outside for fresh air and sunshine. If you don’t, a walk around the neighborhood or a local trail is perfect. When you’re not up for active movement, take a towel or blanket outside for some slow, easy stretching — you’ll be amazed at the difference. Weather doesn’t always cooperate, so if that’s a factor, getting movement in might take creativity: wall off a small corner of your space and declare it a temporary 10-minute fortress, or, if the family is your only option, throw a dance party for a few songs followed by a quick stretch.

Letting the monkey mind out of its cage.

Your mental and emotional health can be complex. Think of all the moments in a day or week that linger in your mind and affect how you feel, not to mention longer-term stress and future what-ifs that swirl. Journal all of it. Write it down so it can sit somewhere besides your brain — you’ll be amazed how good it feels to set that weight on the paper, and it might not feel nearly as burdensome the next day. Reading something, especially fiction or light non-fiction that pulls your mind away from what you’re in the middle of, can be the breath of fresh air your mind needs. And finally, music: turn up some favorite songs, jam out, and dance your way out of your funk. (By the way, “dance” is a very loose term — wiggling, flinging, head-throwing, arm-flailing, fast-footed jumping all count. Move to those tunes until you feel better.)

Lifting your spirit.

I once heard someone say, “prayer is speaking to the Higher Power; meditation is listening.” Have you sat somewhere silently and listened lately? Sacred silence, or meditation, is considered by many to be part of their spiritual hygiene — essential and necessary every day. For those of us who struggle either to commit to meditating or to find a quiet time and place, we have to find alternatives. Again, nature and music are great places to start. Staying up late or waking earlier than the rest of the family can work, though it’s not always sustainable. One quick method I’ve learned is the single-sound meditation: sit somewhere comfortable, close your eyes, take five to ten deep breaths to slow down, and in the hum of life around you, single out one consistent sound and focus only on that — the refrigerator, a wind chime, whatever. When your mind wanders or thoughts appear, come back to that single sound. The point isn’t to catapult into a guru’s empty-mindedness for all of life’s answers; it’s simply to guide a busy mind to focus on one thing for a few minutes and give your soul some relief from all the multitasking.

We hope your travels take you on many new adventures with people you love being around. Taking time to care for yourself will extend your travels, expand your happiness, and feed the longevity of your journey. Do you have any self-care tips to add? What are your challenges around sharing small quarters with other people?

Part 2 of this list — five more “roads” — continues from here.

Common Threads: The Strings that Make Life Valuable

Do you ever dive into the past on a cold winter night and think about where you’ve been and where you’re headed? Lately, I’ve been considering something I call the “common threads.”

Regardless of what has happened or changed over the last, say, 20 years, what are the common threads in my life and character, my interests and dreams, that still hold true — or hold even more strongly? It’s inevitable that interests come and go, but what has stayed steady? Nature, the outdoors, the feeling of exploration, a deep desire for travel and spiritual adventure, the joy of sharing that enthusiasm with others, being part of a community in some way.

As a kid, I wanted to “save the planet.” As an adult with a little more time under my belt, I realize I want to revive humanity — because the planet will survive just fine. There’s a connection with the natural world that aligns us so perfectly with both our physical being on the Earth and our spiritual search while we’re fortunate to be here. Nature shows us vulnerability and strength, hard truths and gentle hints, balance and benevolence. But we have to choose to see it that way — to treat it that way, to embrace the hardships we face as opportunities to grow, and to open our fixed perspectives to obscure possibilities.

Because you never know. One person carrying 40 plastic bottles back from a backpacking trip on the Olympic Coast in Washington might catch the attention of three more people who begin to do the same. And little by little, bottle by bottle, a beach gets healthier, humans widen their perspective, and it lasts… and spreads.

I remember getting back from that trip and telling someone, “all I discovered while I was on that journey was that I just want to pick up trash on the beaches.” It felt so silly to say at the time — like it had no value over a lifetime to declare something so simple, something that wouldn’t advance my career, education, or skills.

It turns out that, almost 14 years later, it was a personal value I’d discovered instead — something that has stayed with me ever since. And who am I kidding? Reflecting on that journey around the country, there was so much more that impacted me for a lifetime than I could see at the time. The experiences had to stew for a while.

Have you discovered any of your common threads to this point in life?

A First Hike on Good Terms: A Quick Guide for Sensory-Sensitive Beginners

Quick answer: For a sensory-sensitive beginner’s first hike, solve friction and temperature ahead of time with seamless socks and light layers, talk through what to expect before you leave, keep the route short, flat, and close to the car, and treat an early turnaround as a win so they’ll want to go again.

Traveling light is subjective!

Your First Hike, On Your Terms: A Guide for Overwhelm-Prone Beginners

Our first hikes with The Dude started with him either in a baby sling or a kid carrier backpack (like the Osprey or Deuter versions that we reviewed). Starting at a really young age made hiking feel like a natural part of our family’s activity and the carrier backpacks were a cushy way for him to ride through the world in comfort and with snacks.

That said, we also know that many people start hiking later than we did and that brings up a different way of easing in to a new activity. Frankly, even with a now-teenager, we sometimes have to coax the willingness to come along out of him!

Hiking is the gentlest doorway into the outdoors, which is exactly why it’s the best place to start when new experiences feel like a lot. There’s no engine, flexible timing, and no equipment we have to trust with our lives - just us and a trail. But “gentle” isn’t the same as effortless, and a first hike can still go haywire when the sensory load sneaks up on us. Here’s how to make that first hike an enjoyable activity that allows beginners to want to join in again.

This is part of our inclusive first-timer series, and each guide is built on the same five questions: what will this feel like, is the gear comfortable, how do we handle the unknowns, what’s the smallest first outing, and how will we know when to pause? Here’s how those play out on the trail.

What a Hike Actually Feels Like

The trail delivers a steady drip of sensory input rather than any one big cascade. Uneven ground underfoot that keeps changing. Weather we don’t control (sun, wind, temperature). Bugs. The weight and shift of a pack across the shoulders or sitting on hips. Long stretches of very similar input, which can be soothing for some of us and monotonous (bordering on agitating) for others.

The two that catch families off guard are temperature and friction. Many sensory-sensitive kids have a hard time reading their own body temperature. They won’t say “I’m too hot” - they’ll simply melt down once they’re already cooked. And nothing ends a hike faster than a sock seam across the toes or a pack strap sawing at a shoulder.

Get the Gear Comfortable First

Friction and temperature should be solved as best as possible before ever leaving the house.

Seamless socks are the single highest-leverage item in the bag. Toe seams are a top trigger, and moisture-wicking seamless pairs prevent both meltdowns and blisters in one go.

Layers that come off fast matter just as much. Not one thick layer, but several thin ones we can shed the instant someone starts to overheat. This is a regulation tool every bit as much as a warmth one.

A pack that actually fits needs padded, wide straps, and a hip belt can take a lot of the weight off the shoulders and back. It should be worn and adjusted at home first, fully loaded. For younger kids, unless they really want to carry their own smaller backpack, let them be packless.

And if brightness or glare is a sensory factor, test the hat and sunglasses ahead of time for brim and band comfort. (Our sensory-friendly clothing guide has specific brands for all of this.)

Handle the Unknowns Out Loud

Talk through the hike and what to expect before we’re standing at the trailhead. Roughly how long will the hike be (length/time)? Is it a loop or an out-and-back? Do we have break spots in mind already and what is the destination we’re aiming for? For a kid, previewing photos of the trail or even the parking lot removes a whole category of surprise. Name the what-ifs - what if I get tired, what if I don’t like it - and give each one a plan. Predictability is the calming ingredient here.

Design the Smallest Possible First Hike

We’re aiming for a win, not a view. The perfect first hike is short and flat, on a well-maintained, gentle loop or an out-and-back we can cut off anywhere. Skip the payoff vista on day one - a summit someone got dragged to in tears isn’t a win. Choose something nearby and familiar over a destination we’ve built up in our heads, and keep it close to the car with no committing terrain and no point of no return.

Ten happy minutes that end with “that was fun, let’s go home” will beat an hour of misery every single time. We’re building an association, and we want it to be a good one. We used to go on regular “teeny tiny flower walks” on our local greenways trails in the spring and early summer: looking at all the different kinds of flowers that popped up as the weather warmed and seeing how they slowly changed with every hike through the season.

Read the Signs, and Keep the Exit Shame-Free

Learn the early tells of overload. For a lot of kids, that’s well before the full meltdown, when they get quieter, more rigid, or more irritable. A tense body or stumbling, clumsier-than-usual movements are a sign of needing a break, or simply to finish. Treat turning around early as a success rather than a failure. “We can head back any time, no big deal” has to be genuinely true, or the whole trust structure collapses. When we needed to lift the feeling on the return trip (or even get into the action as we started the hike), we would play “touch the tree,” where we would take a moment to touch the trees we liked next to the trail, just to ground the physical feeling of barks under our hands. An adventure that ends on a good note is one we’ll willingly repeat, and repetition is the entire goal.

Hiking asks less of a nervous system than almost anything else outdoors, which is what makes it such a good proving ground. Sort the socks and the layers, keep that first one short and close to the car, narrate what’s coming, and let “we can stop” mean exactly what it says. Do that, and a first hike quietly becomes a second one - and the kid who “doesn’t do hiking” becomes a kid who does.

Everybody on the Trail: A Guide to Adaptive Outdoor Gear by Activity

A bike trailer is a great way to get your kid out there with you.

We believe spending time in nature and the outdoors is important for human well-being. And we also believe that nature and the outdoors, in some capacity, should be accessible to everyone, regardless of ability, disability, or for any other reason. 

Around here we talk a lot about inclusive access, and usually that means the sensory side of things - the tags, the textures, the overwhelm. But access has another whole dimension: the equipment that gets people with mobility differences onto the trail, into the boat, and up the wall in the first place, not to mention the way trails are constructed with adaptive equipment in mind.

Hiking and Getting Down the Trail

The headliner here is the all-terrain wheelchair, and a great example is the GRIT Freedom Chair. It’s a manual chair designed by MIT engineers that uses a lever-drive system (think mountain bike parts) to make pushing across dirt, grass, sand, gravel, and snow dramatically more efficient than a standard chair. It breaks down to fit in a car trunk, and it comes in sizes for all ages and bodies - there’s a youth version and a GRIT Junior billed as the first all-terrain kids’ wheelchair, so nobody gets left behind at the trailhead. For riders who want maximum ruggedness, the Spartan trim was originally built for obstacle-course racing.

The technology and engineering of all-terrain wheelchairs has come a long way and new makers and innovations continue to move ahead, making activities and places more accessible than ever. 

One tip applies across every category below: many national and state parks, plus adaptive programs, now loan or rent all-terrain chairs right at popular trailheads. Always worth a call before buying.

Paddling and Getting on the Water

Watersports are some of the most adaptable activities out there, because so much of it can be adjusted piece by piece.

Start with the boat. Sit-on-top kayaks and wider-hulled boats are the usual recommendation, since the open deck makes transfers far easier for wheelchair users and the width adds real stability. A commonly recommended crossover boat is the Wilderness Systems Pungo, though plenty of models work well. But if whitewater kayaking is a dream, do know that there are paddlers out there who do amazing things in creek and playboats, too. 

From there we layer on adaptations as needed. Outriggers - pontoon floats mounted to the sides - add major stability and make getting in and out much steadier. (They reduce tipping risk but don’t eliminate it, so caution still applies.) Adaptive seating replaces the stock seat with adjustable trunk and lateral supports. For simple pressure relief, gel and bead seats like the Jackson Sweet Cheeks or the Hobie Comfort Seat conform to the body and remove pressure points.

Adaptive paddles open things up for limited grip, strength, or one-arm paddling. Angle Oar’s Versa paddle mounts to the boat and pivots, taking the load off shoulders and wrists, and Dillenschneider Designs makes a well-regarded one-arm freedom paddle. A simple wrist-cuff-and-disc setup lets someone who can’t grip a shaft still paddle with real control. And transfer aids - benches, kayak “chariots” with wheels, and in some programs a Hoyer-style lift - make the move from wheelchair to boat safe and smooth.

Cycling and Getting Rolling

Bikes include a much wider, encompassing spectrum than what many of us have in mind. The main families look like this.

Handcycles are powered by the arms, for riders with limited leg mobility. They come recumbent (laid back, low center of gravity, easiest to transfer onto), upright, and in rugged off-road versions for trails.

Recumbent trikes use a reclined seat that supports the back and joints. Two front wheels and one rear (a “tadpole”) tends to be the most stable and is often recommended for riders with balance or visual differences, while one front wheel and two rear makes a “delta.”

Tandems are built for two, so a sighted or stronger captain steers up front while a stoker pedals behind. Side-by-side duets put riders shoulder to shoulder for easier communication, and wheelchair tandems let a chair dock right onto the frame, with no transfer required at all.

Therapeutic trikes for kids and adults come with adjustable supportive seating, foot straps, and steering limiters. They’re a common fit for balance differences, and for many autistic riders who simply feel steadier on three wheels.

E-assist can be added to any of the above, to flatten hills and stretch range when arm strength or stamina is the limiting factor.

When our son was younger, we also had bike trailers, such as the WeeHoo Bike trailer, that we towed everywhere. It took some practice, but once we had the hang of it, we all loved it!

Prices swing widely - a basic adaptive trike might run a few hundred dollars while a specialized handcycle or wheelchair tandem climbs into the thousands - which makes the lending and grant programs below especially worth knowing about.

Sailing and Feeling the Wind

Sailing is a very inclusive and adaptive sport that allows a person to be as relaxed or as active as they want to be. Few things rival the feeling of catching the wind and letting the water carry you, and adaptive sailing makes that feeling reachable for people with a wide range of physical abilities. The gear that opens this door starts with the boat itself. Purpose-built adaptive keelboats and dinghies—like the Hansa (Access) series, the Martin 16, and the SKUD—are weighted to be nearly impossible to capsize, so a sailor can focus on trimming the sail and steering rather than balancing. 

Many pair with seating systems that add trunk support, swivel seats that make transfers easier, and dockside hoists or transfer boards that get you from chair to cockpit smoothly. For sailors with limited hand or arm function, servo-assisted and "sip-and-puff" control systems let you steer and adjust the sails using breath or a joystick, turning the whole boat into something you can pilot with the movement available to you.

If you're new to it, the easiest first step is finding a local adaptive or community sailing program (US Sailing keeps a directory), where trained volunteers and specialized boats are already waiting to get you out on the water.

Climbing and Getting Up the Wall

Climbing is more accessible than it looks, partly because gyms have exploded in number and partly because of one organization. Paradox Sports is a national nonprofit that runs adaptive rock and ice trips and, through its Adaptive Climbing Initiative (built with The North Face), has trained staff at gyms across the country to run inclusive programs. They also literally wrote the book: the first Adaptive Climbing Manual, pooling techniques from dozens of accomplished adaptive climbers.

The practical upshot is that if we’re new, we usually don’t need to buy anything at all. Head to a gym with an adaptive program, where trained instructors provide the harness, rope, and technique. Amputees often climb using an everyday prosthesis, a specialized climbing limb, or simply a protective sleeve over a residual limb. The systems exist to get an enormous range of bodies safely on and up that wall.

How to Actually Get the Gear Without Buying It All

This is the part that changes everything, because adaptive equipment is expensive and highly individual. Before spending:

Try before buying through an adaptive program. Local chapters, gyms, and recreation departments keep fleets of chairs, bikes, and boats specifically so people can test-ride and get a proper fitting.

Look for gear-lending libraries and trailhead rentals. Parks, nonprofits, and some outfitters loan all-terrain chairs and adaptive kayaks by the day.

Chase the grants. Foundations that fund adaptive equipment exist precisely because the sticker prices are so steep. Veterans can sometimes fund an all-terrain chair or handcycle through the VA, and several nonprofits will help with the paperwork.

And get a consultation for complex needs. For significant or complex disabilities, a fitting assessment (many paddle and cycle makers offer them) saves both money and frustration compared to guessing.

The Organizations Worth Bookmarking

A few names come up again and again, and they make wonderful starting points. Move United is the national umbrella, formed in 2020 from Disabled Sports USA and Adaptive Sports USA, with a huge network of local chapters, an equipment resource page, and sport-by-sport guides. Paradox Sports runs adaptive climbing programs, trips, and gym trainings nationwide. The Challenged Athletes Foundation offers grants, equipment resources, and clinics across many sports. Twin Cities Adaptive Cycling is a Minneapolis nonprofit running an adaptive bike share with a forty-bike fleet and fittings. And Heroes on the Water and Wasatch Adaptive Sports focus on paddling and multi-sport programs respectively. Also, don’t forget the Wounded Warriors Project.

The equipment to get almost any one of us outside already exists. The harder part is usually knowing it’s out there and finding the program that will let people try it. Even more so, you can be a part of someone’s supportive experience to adventure outside. Learn from the organizations mentioned, go with them, be a teammate to the person who’s embracing adaptive outdoor experiences - you’ll both learn from the adventure and have fun, too.

Leave No Trace Principles for Your Family

Leave No Trace for your enjoyment and for future generations.

I'm a Leave No Trace Trainer, and this ethic shows up in nearly everything we write here, usually in passing, or just as a given. Maybe we mention “packing it out,” staying on trail, or camping on intended, established sites. I've never actually given a formal overview, so here it is: the seven principles as I would tell them to a family new to this!

1. Plan Ahead and Prepare

This is the strategy and logistics that help us build a solid foundation to avoid or prevent most of the other problems. Know the regulations and special concerns for the location you’re visiting, check weather, pack appropriately, and travel in small groups when possible. A well-prepared trip creates less impact almost automatically, because prepared people make fewer panicked, high-impact decisions.

2. Travel and Camp on Durable Surfaces

Stick to established trails and designated campsites. Walking around a mud puddle instead of through it seems considerate, but it widens the trail over time and damages surrounding vegetation. In truly pristine backcountry areas (bushwhacking), spread out to avoid creating new social trails. In popular areas, concentrate use on already-established paths. The rule flips depending on how developed the area already is, which surprises people the first time they hear it. Remember: your boots were made to be muddy and they’ll recover if that’s the trail condition that day.

3. Dispose of Waste Properly

Pack it in, pack it out… including things like fruit peels, which are not native compostables everywhere and take much longer to break down than people assume. Seriously. That orange peel will be there for months. For human waste in the backcountry, that means either using a cathole dug 6-8 inches deep and at least 200 feet from water, trails, and campsites, or packing it out entirely where required (yes, this is a real requirement in some heavily used areas, and it's not as bad as it sounds with the right kit). Plan to pack out toilet paper regardless: a Ziploc bag in a non-see-through dry-bag, sealed up and clipped on the outside of a backpack is the way to go. Throw away the Ziploc when you get back to civilization.

4. Leave What You Find

Rocks, plants, artifacts, antlers: it can be hard, but leave them where they are. This one carries extra weight in places like Bears Ears, Mesa Verde, and Grand Staircase-Escalante, where "what you find" can include genuinely irreplaceable cultural artifacts and rock art that belong to the ongoing story of Indigenous nations, not to whoever picks them up first. And because of the Migratory Bird Act, you’re better off leaving those feathers alone, too - it’s a federal offense if the feather comes from a bird that’s protected.

5. Minimize Campfire Impact

Use existing fire rings rather than building new ones, keep fires small, burn only small sticks that can be broken by hand, and make sure a fire is completely, coldly out before leaving it (drown it). Check fire restriction and burn bans everywhere you go. In many increasingly fire-prone regions, a camp stove is simply the better choice over an open fire, and it's worth checking current fire restrictions before assuming a campfire is even an option. Anymore, so many places across the US are experiencing drought conditions, we forego any fire if we’re not in an established campground and, even then, we’re going to use something like a Solo Stove.

6. Respect Wildlife

Observe from a distance, never feed wild animals, store food securely, and control pets at all times. Feeding wildlife, even accidentally through careless food storage, changes animal behavior in ways that often end badly for the animal, not just the person. This is the principle we lean on most in our injured wildlife guide: distance and restraint protect animals better than direct interaction almost every time.

7. Be Considerate of Other Visitors

Yield appropriately on trail, keep noise levels reasonable, and let nature's sounds be the soundtrack rather than a speaker. This one seems minor compared to the others, but it's a huge part of why shared public land actually stays enjoyable and welcoming for everyone using it.

Why this matters more than a rulebook

None of these principles are really about rules for their own sake. They're about a mindset: that the outdoors isn't a resource to consume, it's a shared space to move through gently, whether you're there once or every weekend. Teaching kids these seven principles early (even in simplified form, even just in a backyard) builds the instinct before it ever needs to be a rule they're told to follow.

If you only remember one thing from this whole list: leave a place as good as or better than you found it, and you'll naturally be doing most of this right already.

Alternative Schooling: The What and Why

New places can inspire new learning!

We know a lot of people are grappling with decisions about what the school year will look like, and whichever direction you’re leaning, it can feel like a really tough choice. We want to share some of the nontraditional, alternative types of schooling we’ve come across while educating our son over the last few years — options you may have started hearing about as you look into alternatives.

A little background on our situation: Eric has autism and attended our public school district’s wonderful early-education preschool program. We saw great strides with him there educationally, therapeutically, and socially. It wasn’t always easy, but the people on his team were one-of-a-kind and talented.

When he aged out of that program, it was time to make a choice. In some ways, a traditional public-school kindergarten would have been just fine for him, if challenging — he’d have been part of the special-education program while attending a typical classroom, but would have needed a para or teacher’s assistant for much of his day. Eric is an astute, distinctly unique kid who’s highly aware of the people around him and the words, curiosities, and feelings directed his way — and he’s quite sensitive to it. At times that’s made socializing with kids his age hard. (Would you want to go to a birthday party, day camp, or park if you felt like everyone was staring and asking aloud why you do things differently?)

We also felt he was somewhere between preschool and kindergarten, both socially and educationally, so we chose to homeschool him for a couple of years. Now, it seems, we’re homeschooling well beyond that original timeframe.

At the same time (because life rarely hands you one good-sized challenge at a time), we were at a point in our adult lives and business where a change was becoming both needed and wanted. After a lot of late-night conversations and daytime shuffling, we took the plunge into a nontraditional lifestyle that involves Eric’s education, too.

So here’s a “quick guide” to some of the alternative-education styles we’ve personally run across and experimented with, in hopes it shortens your own research while you juggle the bigger parts of managing life right now.

A variety of schooling types

Homeschooling. We all know this one: kids educated at home, usually by a parent. When we were kids there was quite a stigma around it, but times have truly changed. The resources, curriculums, online offerings, and even out-of-the-home classes for homeschoolers at museums, zoos, and science centers are better than ever. If one parent has the gumption to be both parent and teacher while the other’s income can support the family, it might just work. It also depends on how your child does being home more, self-motivating, and learning from Mom or Dad (a big one). Switching hats between parent and teacher — both for you and for how your child sees and interacts with you — is one of the biggest challenges, but it can work, and some kids thrive in it. There are also plenty of extracurricular sports, social opportunities, homeschool group get-togethers, and co-op options (where different parents teach several kids a course in their area of expertise).

Work with what you have on-hand - sometimes less is more.

We’ll lump hybrid learning (a mix of homeschool and classroom time) and fully online schooling in here too, since a lot of the learning happens at home. Both are woven into traditional school in some way — through setting, time, or curriculum. Special-needs kids can find therapies at private practices or still access them through the public schools. This, and how you report your child’s educational records, depends on your state, so make sure you fully understand what your state requires if you choose to homeschool. A great place to start is with blogs devoted to the art of homeschooling; many also review a variety of curriculums if you’ve decided to homeschool but don’t know where to begin.

Unschooling. You might hear this and think it means going completely hands-off and letting your kid go feral. Nope! Unschooling is actually pretty cool: it lets the student’s interests and curiosities drive the learning. You still cover all the subjects — it just might look different than working problems in a book or following a formal curriculum each day. We do a structured form of unschooling with Eric because, frankly, he learns differently. For a kid who needs motion or activity, we integrate that into the subject. When he got really interested in bees, for example, we learned about bees’ lives (science), turned it into a counting game (math), worked on spelling and reading bee words (English and handwriting), created an imaginative beehive (art), and went out to find bees in the yard (field trip!). He knows a lot about bees and elevators right now because he’s fascinated by them — and he’s still learning a lot, while we’re not losing our minds trying to fit him into a curriculum built for a differently-shaped mind. We still use those great learning books; we just integrate them into activities rather than the other way around.

This won’t work for every kid, truly. Some really need defined structure, and this can be a little too loose. We have to create structure within it, too — kind of like making a box to contain all the scribbles. Before social distancing, our days revolved around field trips, turning everyday errands into chances to learn. Obviously, that changed a lot.

Roadschooling. Imagine homeschooling smashed together with traveling around the United States while you drive and camp in an RV. That’s roadschooling — taking the education with you. It’s a lifestyle in itself, so it requires some big choices and changes. You need a “home state” where you declare your kids are homeschooling and follow its requirements, and supporting your family and making a living are big considerations. Some people follow seasonal work; some have jobs that require travel, so their families move with them (think traveling nurses or railway workers); and many can work from anywhere (graphic designers, writers, media managers, and various tech jobs are common). The lifestyle can be full-time or part-time (we’re part-time throughout the year).

There are serious considerations: do you keep your house, rent it out, or sell it? How do your kids handle this kind of change (age matters a lot)? How is your family at making friends with strangers — believe it or not, there are lots of roadschooling families roaming the country. What’s your travel style, and how adaptable are you (road warrior vs. sit-and-stay)? It’s also a more minimalist lifestyle, since you don’t want to haul everything you own with you. That said, it’s incredible to visit historical sites while your kids learn about them, see the wild animals they just read about, or learn about the people of our country by meeting them.

Worldschooling. Last but not least, worldschooling is like the magical unicorn of education for the adventure-minded family. It takes energy, tenacity, adaptability, and planning ahead around finances, your home and belongings, education, and current events. Honestly, many worldschoolers have had to stay put in foreign countries at times, and some chose to return to the U.S. until things settled because staying in limbo didn’t feel secure — understandably. Worldschooling might happen by airplane, train, sailboat, camper van, or camel; it all depends on where you go. Think of it as roadschooling on the biggest scale we have: global. Some do it full-time, some part-time (that’s us), or for only a set amount of time. It definitely requires a minimalist lifestyle and a lot of adaptability as a visitor to foreign cultures. The idea is that “the world is a classroom.”

You can imagine the pros and cons: high highs and low lows. Making friends can be challenging, but the ones that stick tend to last a lifetime and are wonderfully diverse. Planning ahead and being prepared for a myriad of complications with kids in tow is imperative — money, insurance, homesickness, and more. Before jumping in, really weigh whether you want to worldschool or simply take a good long vacation or sabbatical.

Whichever path calls to you, we hope this shortens your research a little. Every family and every kid is different — the best choice is the one that fits yours.

(Podcast) Season 3, Episode 7 - Adult Weekend Adventures (The Kids Will Be Ok)

Season 3, Episode 7. Okay parents — this one's for you. We're talking about getting outside without the kiddos. Solo trips, couples getaways, weekends with friends — all of it. Cristen and I dive into why it's so important to carve out that adult time in the outdoors, even when it feels impossible to step away. Turns out, absence really does make the heart grow fonder — you come back recharged, more patient, and honestly a better partner and parent for it. We share some of our own experiences sneaking away for a night or two, and we talk about how to make it happen without the guilt. We also mention Eddie Bauer's gear rental program — a great option if you want to try something new (kayaking, backpacking, whatever) without dropping a fortune on gear you're not sure about yet.

(Podcast) Family Adventure Nutrition with Emily Carlson (Magnetic North)

Season 3 Episode 4.

In this episode, we talk with Emily Carlson of Magnetic North (magneticnorth.us) about family nutrition across a variety of outdoor activities and ages of participants! Magnetic North focuses on durability training — continuing to do the things you love for as long as you want to do them.

Covered in this episode: the best foods to pack for outdoor adventures; whether packaged foods are necessary; choosing foods that power you best for the activity you’re doing; including kids in food packing; grab-and-go vs. full-on cooking; carbohydrates, proteins, and fats and what they do for us; short trips vs. long trips; how elevation affects the way your body burns fuel (and water); the other necessities of sleep and hydration; how to avoid spikes and crashes; how elevation changes the macros your body burns; things you can do to help your body prepare in the weeks leading up to a longer trip; supplements and shakes; why taking your time with meals matters; how stress affects digestion; fads and fasting; and a super-special secret s’mores technique!

We loved creating this episode — there are so many wonderful nibbles about nutrition and fueling yourself and your family for any adventure. If you’d like to learn more about Magnetic North, their new Durability School, or one-on-one coaching with Emily (she’s awesome, and so is her cohort Brittany), find them at magneticnorth.us and on Instagram @magneticnorth___. Thanks for listening and sharing our podcast!

(Podcast) Key West’s Wacky History: Tales of the Conch Republic and Sailing into the Sunset

Season 2, Episode 11.

From a modern-day naval battle to setting sail on our final voyage of the season — and figuring out what to do when hurricane season comes — we couldn’t help but enjoy every minute of this adventure.

Have you heard of the Conch Republic? There’s a great story there. On April 23, 1982, after a series of denials and rejections in the courts, the city of Key West took matters into its own hands. A Border Patrol checkpoint had been set up on the main route into the Keys, leading to long backups and hours of waiting while everything in your vehicle was searched. The city reasoned that if they were going to be treated like a separate country, they would just happily become one. And so the Conch Republic was born.

Spying a target of opportunity in the USCG Cutter Diligence, the wooden schooner Western Union, under the command of Captain John Kraus, attacked with water balloons, conch fritters, and stale Cuban bread. The Coast Guard responded with fire hoses, Prime Minister (Mayor) Wardlow surrendered — and then demanded foreign aid, which has not been paid to this day. A quiet victory was won, though: the checkpoint came down and the traffic jam was gone.

Our Key West story isn’t quite over, but it’s time to head back north and prepare for hurricane season (June 1 – October 31). That means sailing north overnight to our home port of Punta Gorda, in Charlotte Harbor, on Florida’s west coast.

This would be only our second blue-water overnight passage, and we felt much better prepared — even though we’d been hanging in the straps at the work yard just a week before. A full safety inspection, including the mast and rigging, a little provisioning, and all we needed was perfect weather.

When passage planning, we rely on a few different forecasts — Predict Wind, Weather Underground — and double-check against the National Weather Service. Lucky for us, the weather was spectacular: winds out of the SSE at 12 knots and a gentle following sea. We made great time on what was by far our most comfortable passage to date. This is why people sail — smooth seas, a good breeze, and the open-water experience. It was perfect: sailing into the sunset and arriving the next afternoon, happy and confident in our skills and in our beloved Moon Dragon.

Hurricane season — and preparing Moon Dragon to be on the hard (stored on land, strapped down on stands in a hurricane-approved marina) — was our next challenge, and I’m so grateful I had the help of my brother and father to get her all set up. We cleaned her out of food (donating everything they’d accept), stripped the sails, cleared the decks of gear and lines, and rigged a sunshade across the entire deck. We did a lot of work in a very short time!

Cristen took on the challenge of driving north with Eric and the dogs (who were super gassy) and all of our stuff, while Eric had a couple of yearly doctor checkups back in Missouri that we really didn’t want to miss. Needless to say, she’s amazing and really stepped up. (Matt is the author of this blog and her biggest fan.) I was able to join them back in Missouri a couple of weeks later… but that’s another story.

Now that we’re back in Missouri, we’re all set to take on new challenges — and, as always, we keep in mind that when facing the unknown, the keyword is ADVENTURE!