- I’ve wanted to hike a Colorado 14er for almost two decades.
- This year, my daughter and I crossed that off my bucket list.
- I faced a hard parenting decision during our hike and I’m still not sure I handled it correctly.
When our family moved to Colorado 18 years ago, I made it my goal to hike a 14er one day.
Colorado has more than 50 mountains that soar 14,000 feet or more above sea level. Your options for hiking them range from strenuous day hikes on well-marked trails to technical routes where some people use ropes and climbing gear.
Between trying to find a hiking buddy and managing my little kids, my dream hike went on the back burner for many years.
But that changed when my 13-year-old and I hiked Mt. Bierstadt this past summer. I found a fellow mom who had hiked several 14ers and felt confident hiking this one with us. We had hiking and outdoor experiences, and we spent the summer doing practice hikes to prepare for our goal.
Bierstadt is widely known as a beginner 14er, and the trail is uncomplicated. I wouldn’t call any 14er easy, but this one is on the shorter end, with less elevation gain to get to the top.
Although it was difficult, this climb was one of the most important experiences of 2024 for me.
We started out strong, but the constant uphill was a struggle
Despite our 3:30 a.m. wake-up time, my daughter and I started out strong. We began while it was still dark, hiking by the light of our headlamps as the sun came up. The first few hours were interesting, with stream crossings and amazing views. Our snack stop around 7:30 a.m. came with a sweeping vista of the Rocky Mountains.
And then we hit the hard middle slog. It was a long stretch of slow, steady uphill, and it felt like it would never end. My daughter got discouraged — really, really discouraged.
Eventually, my poor girl gave up. She sat down and cried. She was physically exhausted, and I think the altitude sickness got to her as well. She refused to go any further.
We had some water and a snack, and I tried to get her going again. Nope. I tried encouraging her. I told her how proud I was of her for doing this. Passing hikers told her she could do it. She refused to budge.
I wasn’t prepared to face a parenting challenge
At this point, I wasn’t sure what to do. When do you push your kids forward to accomplish a goal, and when do you let them fail and try again? Both are important. Sometimes, you have to work harder than you ever thought you would. You have to dig deep and fight to the finish. You need grit. And you need to haul yourself up that mountain — whether it’s a real one or a metaphorical one.
But sometimes, you need to fail. History is full of people who failed over and over again until they did something astonishing. As a parent, it’s my job to provide a safe place where my kids can land after a failure. They need someone to tell them that it’s OK and to talk with them about what they learned. They need someone to inspire them to try again.
This was the hardest part of the hike. I was ready with plenty of water, snacks, sunscreen, and a first-aid kit. We had prepared well for our hike. But the responsibility of deciding whether to keep going or turn around weighed heavy. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, but I also wanted us to succeed. I’m still not sure how to decide that.
In this case, after making sure she was physically OK and well-hydrated, my daughter and I kept going. Our friends were ahead of us on the trail. I suggested we keep going as slowly as we wanted until we either made it to the summit or met them heading back down. One plodding step at a time, we kept going up the mountain.
Eventually, we made it to the top.
The climb marked an important milestone for the year
I was so proud of her. I wasn’t just proud she summited. I was proud because she hit a point where she wanted to go back, and she pushed through. She fought, wanting to quit, and kept going.
Would I be just as proud if she’d hit her limit, listened to her body, and turned around? I’d like to think so. I hope my ego wasn’t so set on getting to the top that I’d ignore her. But deep down … I’m scared to admit that I don’t know.
Sometimes, I’d like this parenting job to come with some definite answers. I feel like I’m winging it. I have no idea if I’m doing it right. But I am confident that I did the right thing in supporting her in her time of need, and that’s all I need to do as a parent.
I’m glad my daughter learned something about her own strength. She tried something new and uncomfortable. Whether she succeeded on this hike or not, I hope it made her more open to stretching her limits and trying unfamiliar things.
I can’t wait to see what she does in 2025.
