A memory for Throwback Thursday

Finally a smile on her face once she got me to

 do it her way.

Well, for lack of anything creative and substantial, elements that have been elusive these days, here's one for Throwback Thursday.

For what reason I have no idea, but today driving around doing errands I got to thinking about the first time I took my daughter into the Bush.

It was Easter weekend, probably in 1978. We had been invited to visit some friends who lived off the highway a hundred and twenty-five miles or so north of Anchorage. We could drive to fairly close but then it was a hike of four or five miles to their cabin. I packed snowshoes and took a sled thinking I could haul my 3-year-old in the sled along with our gear and a box of goodies for our friends.

The day proved bright and sunny, the kind of perfect one you find in late spring in Alaska. The snow on the trail had set up so hard you could walk it like a sidewalk and we headed in. But almost immediately ran into trouble. My daughter absolutely did not want to ride in the sled. She complained, she cried, she was just miserable and I was at a loss for what to do. I let her walk for a while but even as slow as we could go she couldn't keep up, and of, course, as a youngster that age is prone to do, she found dozens of interesting things along the trail to explore rather than keep the pace.

We proceeded slowly. She walked sometimes, then rode in the sled for a while crying all the while. I suppose anyone who has ever dealt with a petulant child who will not be mollified can understand the frustration. When we had gone about halfway, we ran into my friend and his daughter who had started out the trail to meet us. I have often wondered what their first impression of my daughter and her tears was, not to mention what a terrible parent they might have thought I was.

About 10 years later on her first trip to the East Pole I remembered 

the lesson.

But as we stopped and chatted for a minute she resolved the issue. She finally was able to communicate to her child-deaf father what she wanted to do. She wanted to stand up. I looked over our outfit and then slid the box of stuff to the middle of the sled. Then I strung a bungee cord across the top of the box from one side of the sled to the other.

With that she could stand in the back of the sled and hold onto the bungee cord, in the relative position of sled dog drivers, whom she had seen in action previously.

After that she only had two words for me: "Go faster!" Ha! We arrived at our friends' cabin in a short time with one happier camper ready for her adventure.