Tolavana Hot Springs

Our trip to Tolavana Hot Springs did not start out as fantastic as it ended.  We were packed and ready to go, and our oldest son started vomiting--five times--for several hours.  My husband's homework was not complete.  It had been a long and stressful week.  I had slept in and had also forgotten my warm mitten at a friend's house the day before.  But, we could not stay home.  This was our trip of the year, the trip we had booked long ago, and something I had wanted to do for a very long time.  And coincidently, it was also Easter weekend.  Just as we pulled out of the garage, our son mentioned that he had puked into a bowl in the back of the car.  I took a breath, went into the house to wash it, and then came back outside.  We continued on, an hour and a half behind schedule.

We made it to the Tolavana Trail parking lot and everyone took off on the 11.2 mile trail to the cabin, except me and the baby.  Not knowing the trail, we decided to wait until the others had experienced it first.  Imagine baby and me, 100 miles in the middle of nowhere looking at sunny snow-covered hillsides.  It was quiet, calm, and beautiful.  Now, imagine the rest of the gang:  a boy who only had four saltines and a bit of water all day, weak from the flu holding up a heavy helmet and riding in front of his grandpa, a tiny three year old boy at nap time, prone to falling asleep on the trail riding in front of his dad, and grandma, the most nervous of all, on her new snow-machine that she is afraid to drive because it reacts more quickly than she likes.  At this point, as I waited in the van for two and a half hours, I watched the crew who had rented the cabin the night before return to the parking lot.  I was very anxious to know how things were going.  Even though I realized I had forgotten my snowpants, it was warm.  I thought back about how I had told them to take their time, and I was optimistic.

Before I knew it, my husband had returned, a changed man.  Grandpa had lost his trailer, grandma had crashed into him, two separate events, and the trail was sketchy in places, but the cabin was nice and everyone had arrived safely.  My husband brought the baby and me to join the others on a somewhat thrilling trail ride.  From this point forward, the trip continued to surpass our expectations.

Part of me fantasizes about raising our family in a small cabin.  There is only one or two rooms to sweep.  That same small footprint forces us to play games together and forces us to seek freedom outdoors.  At home, there is television, video games, and way too many toys.  There are also several rooms in which to seek solitude.  Often, the kids do not stay outside as long as I would like because there are too many things to draw them inside.  I guess I am not the only one who feels this way because there is a book a friend gave me for my birthday called "Last Child in the Woods:  Saving our Children from Nature Deficit Disorder."  The book describes that in our kids' generation, versus ours or our parents', the conveniences and comforts of technology have pulled the children away from the natural world that nourishes their souls.

I am often frustrated with other adults, often who have or have had small children of their own.  No matter where we go, people are offering our children food (which usually doesn't resemble real food), candy, and toys.  They do not seem to realize that a well nourished, properly developed child is completely happy just being.  Why can't a child, for example, sit and listen to church service, eat dinner, or ride on an airplane without being offered things?  Children do not need to feed their bodies with garbage between meals, and they do not need to play toys when there is snow or mud and sticks, for example.  How can a child use their imagination, reflect, and learn about the world if they are constantly engaged in distractions from it and from themselves and their own thought?  My friend recently explained to me that we (as in our generation and our parents' generation) want our kids to have all of the things that we could not have when we were kids.  Whatever the reason, it is a bit over the top.  Children are simple.  And my observation as a mom is that they are happier when they have less.

I will never forget how happy the boys were to be in the hotsprings, to be snow machining in the mountains, or to just walk in and out of the cabin as they like to help their dad bring in the wood, the spring water, or to explore.  If you ask me, serenity in nature surpasses all other feelings except for love.  Now, the snow is thawing and it will be messy for a while.  We are fully back into our our reality at home for a while.  I hope that our summer is filled with outdoor camping and cabin adventures as revitalizing as this one.