Recall the rules:

At three each of the kids got to sleep in the tent in the back yard.

At four they get a backpacking trip.

As far as eight they continue to get to go on at least an annual trip.

Probably around 13 they'll have to go on the trip.

So Henry was finally eligible to suffer in the woods just like the big kids. We picked Sheep Lake near Chinook Pass as our destination. I'd passed by it in 2005 while doing a short section of the PCT, but it's far enough away and short enough a hike to have escaped me since. However, the modest stats made for a perfect four year old trip. My friend Rob, from way back in sixth grade, and his son, Ben, would be joining us.

It wouldn't be a backpacking trip with a couple of four year old boys without the following:

Shyness

When we met Ben and Rob at the Enumclaw ranger station Ben hardly spoke to us. Also at the ranger station we learned an important lesson: The motion sensor in the bathroom will turn off the lights if you're both short and not moving for more than a minute. Also: Kids don't like to be alone in the bathroom when the lights suddenly go out.

Refusal to eat food

Well, yeah, sure, donuts are sweet, sweet ambrosia (ask Homer) when you're at home. But when you're on the road it's ok to eat just a few bits and mostly lick the frosting off. In fact, this has a similar effect to licking certain psychoactive toads.

Wanting Mommy

When the going gets tough, the tough look for a comforting shoulder that apparently doesn't smell as bad as mine.

Trail crash

Just when you think things are going great your child will sense this and decide life needs more drama. On the upside, it wasn't broken, just really, really swollen.

Poking things with sticks

If they weren't meant for poking why would they be called "trekking pokes?" (Oh, wait. They're not.)

Happily, we checked off all the required elements of a four year old backpacking trip and found ourselves at Sheep Lake under a clear sky. It's a weird place, Sheep Lake. Hardcore PCT through-hikers would breeze past with tiny packs, leathery skin, and beat up trail runners. Unprepared grandparents would look around and mumble about how the views weren't as nice as as Tipsoo Lake. Capable hikers were setting up relaxing camps with their parents. And then there was us. Forcing our love of the outdoors on our children.

Speaking of the children, they are our future. Did you know that? Apparently, my future is full of mosquito bites and dirty faces because no matter how much DEET was applied the boy was constantly being snacked upon. It didn't matter if it was while setting up the tent or swimming or poking at the last remnants of snow. The bugs loved him. You might think of this as foreshadowing because it will come back to bite me later. (Ha! Get it? Sadly, it's not all that funny.)

Rob and I got tents set up that were an immediate hit with the boys. There's nothing cooler than a tent for playing in. Except, maybe, the great outdoors. Nah. Tents rock. We strung a lackluster line to hang the food on, but after I found fresh bear scat less than a 100 feet from camp we took it down and set up a proper hanging line. We prepared for dinner and realized it was only 2pm.

So we went "swimming." The lake is much smaller than I remembered it, but really pretty. The boys had a blast throwing the bumper for Treen (fully recovered from her bout with swimmer's tail after the Summit Lake trip) and aside from an accidental dunking it was all smiles. We returned to the tent and got changed and now it was... 3pm. So we went for a walk.

Henry learned the important lesson that bare feet in snow will get painfully cold and I practiced taking pictures with the new camera. (Yeah, it's going to be "the new camera" for a while, yet.) We retreated to the warmth of the tent to get feeling back in his toes and it was finally time for dinner. Eating out of a bag is always a hit with the girls and Henry clearly enjoyed it as well. I must admit, I'm rather fond of the Chili Mac with Beef, myself, but it's not that memorable.

After dinner we actually made a fire (100% legal and everything!), roasted marshmallows, and slapped at bugs. I had grand plans to stay up with Rob, but Henry was having a hard time getting to sleep so I retired early. The rest of the night went like this:

"I'm itchy! I want the white medicine!" ("White medicine" is code for sunscreen.) I apply "white medicine," Henry goes to sleep.

Fifteen minutes later: "I'm itchy! I want the yellow medicine!" (Aka, the anti-itch medicine.) I apply. Henry goes to sleep.

Fifteen minutes later: White medicine time.

Needless to say, I didn't get a ton of sleep. Neither did Henry.

Still, the next morning we were up with the sun and packing up. The overnight folks were gone or heading out and the dayhikers hadn't shown up yet so the lake felt mighty isolated. We took our gear to the far side of the lake and swam again. The boys and the dog had a great time in the water. Rob tried, but it was cold and he didn't last long. After a few group shots we headed out with the promise of ice cream in Greenwater.

It was a long hike out. It was pretty warm and the kids were tired. We made less than ideal time, but aside from one trail crash by Henry it was mostly incident free. Back at the car we did a few glissades into the parking lot and then changed for the drive to ice cream. Treen was content to sit in the shade and then nap on the seat next to Henry.

We did stop briefly at Tipsoo Lake for a picture, but then made good time to catch up to Rob and Ben at Wapati Woolies where they had a table on the deck for us. Henry had slept a few minutes between the hike and ice cream so he wasn't inclined to rest on the way home. So instead of going home we went straight to NanaPapa's for a slideshow of both Lilly and Henry's trips. Poor NanaPapa.

All told Henry's first trip was a success even if he had a sore pinky finger (from the trail crash) and was itchy (and justifiably so). He scored about four miles and 700 feet of gain round trip. But most importantly, he's a backpacker now.