Dear Dad

My Dad and I catching piranha's in the Amazon

I recently listened to a podcast "To Dad, From Daughter" by She Explores and it was in honor of dad's for Father's Day. It was an hour long show full of women of all ages calling in and leaving messages about how their dad introduced them to the outdoors. The podcast resonated with me as many of my early memories were with my dad in the outdoors. My love for nature stems from our adventures in the outdoors and is one of the major reasons we moved to Seattle, and now Duluth, to be closer to the outdoors.

Growing up, my Dad was not around every day as he woke up early and was off to take care of patients at the local hospital and then to clinic. As a physician myself, I know that the profession demands that patients come first and often family second. With the limited time we had together, he made the most of it and often took us to explore the outdoors. I am who I am today because of my Dad and his love of the outdoors. He was my soccer coach, my hiking guide, my photographer, my travel partner, my snorkeling and scuba diving buddy, my ski partner, and my number one fan. He taught me how to pitch a tent and start a fire; how to put a worm on the hook and take off a fish; how to tie my laces and kick a soccer ball; and how to find the perfect view facing west and to enjoy the sunset. He taught be how to shut up and listen; how to open my eyes and see; and how to be at peace in nature. Being outdoors is not only a place to play, but a place to find solitude, beauty and interconnectedness. I know I find home in the outdoors, thanks to Dad.

Growing up in Minnesota, we had four seasons to explore the outdoors. Every Sunday in winter, my Dad would take us to ski lessons at Afton Alps. After lessons, we'd meet up with Dad and head to the Highlands and show him the new tricks we'd learned. The chairlifts in the Highlands were slow and took what seemed like forever to an 8 year old. At the time I didn't realize how important those long chairlift rides were to bring two people together: a dad and his daughter. In the springtime, I'd bike along side him as he did his Grandma's marathon training. As summertime rolled around, Dad would carry the bag of soccer balls to the park at the end of the street so my sister and I could practice. Summers were also the time Dad would drive our family to national parks out West - Rocky Mountain, Glacier, Yellowstone, Grand Tetons, Denali, etc. Unfortunately, most trips with Dad do not go quite as planned; most vacations with Dad were what we called, "an adventure." (Here is one from a trip to Peru in 2010.)

Dad helped me hike my first mountain at the YMCA of the Rockies in Colorado. We followed a zigzag path through tall pines and cairns, stacks of rocks, marking the trail. I remember being about 6 or 7 years old and climbing the boulder at the top and feeling like I was on top of the world. I was hooked on the outdoors. The next year my Dad and I climbed Flattop Mountain. Once we emerged from the treeline, the winds nearly blew me off the mountain. I followed behind my Dad and grasped his two rear pockets so I wouldn't get blown off the mountain like my favorite Twins baseball cap. I felt exhausted, scared, and tired but he kept me going. He taught me about persistence, perseverance, and grit. Reaching the summit and being surrounded by 14,000 ft peaks still goes down as one of my top 10 accomplishments of all time.

When I was in 5th grade, my Dad volunteered as a chaperone on a school trip to the Environmental Learning Center. It was April and there was still snow on the ground. He taught the fire building survival course outside along a trail lined with white birch trees. I remember trying to be like him and take artistic pictures on my 35mm camera. At the end of the day, I ran out of film and so I opened the camera to change the roll and I tried to roll up the black film in the camera only to learn I had accidentally exposed all of it and we had no pictures of the trip. I learned that you don't need pictures if you take them in your mind.

When I was in 6th grade, my Dad took me on my first trip to the Boundary Waters. Despite being late August, it was a cold and rainy morning and my hands were nearly frozen after paddling an hour. I could tell he was frustrated with me as he had to paddled into the wind and I sat on my hands to warm them up. We portaged our canoe not once but twice and finally arrived to our destination lake. We paddled to an island hoping to find a campsite only to find 2 baby black bears and a momma black bear instead. We opted for the campsite on the opposite shore. I learned a lot from our adventures outdoors: how to pitch a tent, how to start a fire with wet firewood (tip: dry matches), how to cook over a campfire, how to roast the perfect marshmallow, how to sit in silence and listen to the loons, and how to enjoy being surrounded by nature. 

In 2002, I went off to college in a big city and left the outdoors. Mom and Dad would come visit and I would come home for holidays but our family adventures weren't quite the same. After college, I was busy with medical school, residency and fellowship. I remember one adventure with Dad when he came to travel with me when I was backpacking in Europe. We had surprised him with a plane ticket to Greece for Christmas and he cried. We arranged a rendez-vous at a subway station in downtown Athens in January (I had no phone or internet at the time). After a few hours of waiting at the station, my Dad finally arrived! We made a brief stop at the Acropolis, then we headed to go ski at Mt. Parnassos because we love the outdoors. It was another trip that didn't go quite as planned. While driving up the mountain in a rental car, the overcast skies turned to a drizzle, then rain, then snow and sleet. We should have thought twice when we saw the first car spinning its tires on the black ice or the second car as it spun around, hit the guard rail and turned back (more details here). One thing my Dad taught me was about not giving up. We kept going until we, too (not surprisingly), were also in the ditch. That's also when I learned that "When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade." We made the most of a less-than-ideal vacation and paid a small price for damage to the rental car but made memories to last a lifetime. Whenever my Dad and I get the opportunity to travel, whether in Alaska, Washington D.C., Peru, Costa Rica, Seattle, Hawaii, Vancouver, New York City, Winter Park, or Balsam Lake, we always try to include something outside.

Adventures with Dad were some of the single most sacred times - traveling, camping, biking, rafting, skiing, fishing, canoeing, cliff jumping, hiking. Those adventures outside helped me realize what I am truly capable of. They gave me confidence as a little girl to become a fiercely independent young woman and now leader in my career. They taught me that I could survive on my own and that it was O.K. to not know always what was around the bend. He taught me about setting goals but to be flexible, love nature, and live in the moment. My Dad wasn't always perfect but he was a great role model. My Dad continues to support me. He always cheers me on and reassures me. I feel so fortunate to have spent this time with my Dad in the outdoors. I try to emulate him as I take my children, Theo and Marit, outdoors - mountain biking, hiking, traveling and camping. I want to allow them to have their own relationship with the outdoors. Looking back I just wish we had even more outdoor adventures together and I hope his surgery goes well on Friday so we can get back to skiing together in 2020. It is a special connection - me, my Dad and the outdoors.

Skiing in Whistler-Blackcomb