Flagstaff 2026
Day one
Attempting to start any trip at any given hour with any number of variables is a good way to curb any unrealistic expectations. So long as you temper your tolerance for ambiguity and roll with the flow.
Despite leaving town an hour and a half late, enthusiasm was in high supply. This adventure wasn't about rigorous itineraries. It was supposed to be a scaffold for three young men to craft their own experience.
A couple of stops on the way for fishing gear and food (they never stop eating) and we found road after road, smaller and twister and rougher as we went, arriving at Round Barn in the Bigelow Wilderness. Here was our launch point and the weather was seemingly perfect.
Audun, Bennet and Lars were literally overcome by excitement with the freedom. Fishing immediately commenced while I check out the boat launch and learned how windy it could actually get here.
Being on the eastern end of the lake at this point, I discovered the Bigelow Range and Blanchard Mountain apparently form a spectacular wind tunnel. The boys miraculously were able to load their canoe and break through the surf. I was ready for a capsize at any point. All three paddling and communicating and laughing and we made it...
About a quarter mile down the shore and beached it. Expectations curbed.
Day two
These kids know each other. They have established history and a pretty good idea of who they are as individuals, but, perhaps, less of an idea of who they are as a group.
An outdoor adventure has many qualities suited for the distillation of interaction, rendering a more basic sense of fulfillment. The rapore already developed by the three boys accelerated their abilities to work together as a team on boating and camp tasks. Not to say it was easy, but challenges were casually handled with a minimum of argument and fuss. And expletives.
Breakfast today was quick and the travel plan was hatched prior to 9 am. Also worth noting, I was not the first person awake. That award goes to Bennet. He loves to fish (and do just about anything). While I am handing out awards, Lars gets one for thoughtfulness. Not only is he generally tidy and prepared... He managed to put the boys' tent away by himself and wrapped it up in the trash bag, complete with three rubber bands, exactly how he found it.
And not to leave Audun out of the ceremony, but he is the glue holding this coalition together and his heart is big. This probably won't make it into the edit, but he put his arms around me and Bennet while route planning this morning.
We left Quarter Mile campground this morning and paddled northwest across the lake in mild winds with full sun. Little Bigelow and The Horns to the south, Blanchard to the north. I gave the boys a thirty minute head start as I packed and watched them navigate towards our final destination of the day, Hurricane Island.
View of Little Bigelow and The Horns en route to Hurricane Island
Day three
Last night ended surprisingly late as midnay napping, precipitated by sun exposure and a long fishing outing, restored a good amount of energy. Spam wore out it's welcome after it was added to quesadillas, though these were actually somewhat enjoyed. Next trip I'll have to prepare a more palatable variety of meat options.
I learned that, like his cousin, Audun has an uncanny talent for imitating bird calls... the loon activity was legendarily operatic last night, as pockets of birds would call to each other from across the lake and work themselves (and Audun) up into a call frenzy. The lake was still and the wind was dead, so the mountains and water acted like an amphitheater.
For a couple of reasons, today ended up being our last day. Camp breakdown and boat packing was military quick and everybody worked swiftly. We decided to set a leisurely course back past Quarter Mile Beach and stopped a long the way for... Fishing.
Craft, cooperation, and character are alive in these boys. I witnessed three young men doing exactly what they're meant to do. Each have skills and methods and they all found a way to mesh them together. By the end of the trip, Lars had observed practically everything I was doing and followed suit: from tent packing to stove lighting and cooking through cleaning the dishes with bio soap and sand, I never actually had to instruct him to do anything (except not burn the Spam). Bennet is a doer. His homemade fish bait net is practically perfect. How'd he learn to do this? My guess is that building and shaping and seeing the world around him are in his blood.
And finally, Audun. An organizer, planner, leader. I was delightfully enchanted by his ability to stir comraderie and stitch the narratives into plans.
What a group.
Leaving Hurricane Island
