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It was around three in the morning when I started to worry about the llamas. I was huddled in a tent 11,700 feet in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado, and as rains and gusts of wind shook the nylon walls, I thought of the two llamas standing outside with nothing left. other to shelter them than a stunted spruce tree. It had been stormy for 12 hours straight. The temperature was around 40 degrees.
When I put on my rain gear and checked it the next morning, the llamas didn’t look worse for wear. They looked a little wet and dingy, but the llamas were bred to withstand the harsh climate of the Andes. My three-year-old daughter, Jo, and her five-year-old friend, Huck, were also unfazed. In fact, the only ones bothered by the incessant rain were the adults: me and my husband, Jesse, and Huck’s parents, Dev and Marian. Conditions weren’t exactly what we had in mind for a two night trip with llamas in the Weminuche desert.
But if the storm had pushed us beyond our comfort zone as parents, well, that was part of the problem. We had hired llamas to haul our backcountry camping gear specifically because each of us is drawn to everything that happens in indescribable places where you have no choice but to face the weather head-on, remote and wild places and require you to get rid of the essentials. Before we had children, each of us had spent a lot of time in such remote places.
Even after having babies, we continued to hike and hike, carrying our babies into the mountains and through deserts and snuggling them into our sleeping bags at night. But as our kids got older, we got stuck. Between, say, two and six years old, most kids are too small to hike very far on their own and too big to carry, especially when they are lugging hiking gear. We got around that at times by taking trips on the river – using canoes and rafts to haul our stuff and ourselves into the backcountry – but otherwise we stayed by RV.
Car camping is great, of course, and it can all be an adventure when you see it through a toddler’s eyes. But part of me wanted something more. The mountains around our home in southwest Colorado beckoned to me, teasing me with peaks that seemed, for the moment, out of reach.
Then I discovered the llamas. A year earlier, a friend from Wyoming visited him and mentioned that he had led llama packing trips to the greater Yellowstone area. Llamas are easier to manage than mules or horses, which means you can lead them yourself without a guide. Their padded and split hooves cause minimal damage to trails, making their environmental impact less than that of other pack animals. They are also well adapted to weather conditions and mountainous terrain, can defend themselves against predators like wolves and bears, and are gentle enough to be around children. They can carry around 75 pounds of gear each, and some can even be ridden by children, making them a great option for families who want to get a little deeper into the wilderness than car camping or camping. day hike does allow it.
After my friend left I started looking for llamas outfitters in southwest Colorado and found Redwood llamas, based in the town of Silverton. For $ 125 per llama per day (plus an additional charge for a llamas orientation course and transportation to and from the trailhead), owner Bill Redwood will hire his llamas to haul your gear along the trail. one of the many trails nearby. I called Redwood and booked two llamas for what turned out to be one of the worst weather windows of an already very humid summer.
A few weeks later, I found myself at the start of a trail, encountering two pack llamas named Boyd and Artemus. Marian, Dev, Jesse, Huck, Jo and I learned to put on their saddles, to store our tents, sleeping bags and food in the roomy bags that hung on either side, and what to do if the animals got loose (stay calm and entice them with a palm full of grain). Then we were alone, standing at the edge of Colorado’s largest wilderness area.
The sky that morning was a dazzling blue. Even though it was August, there was a chill in the air that felt like early fall, and the trail was lined with green fodder and ripe wild strawberries which attracted llamas and children. Boyd and Artemus were surprisingly docile and easy to drive: all you had to do was walk past them with the lead rope in hand, pulling it occasionally if one was distracted by a mouthful of grass. They climbed steep rocks and crossed streams without hesitation. And they offered such novelty that whenever the kids got bored, we offered to let them lead the llamas for a short time, and they quickly regained their enthusiasm.
Between luring in the llamas, bribing the kids with candy, and sometimes carrying Jo around, we hiked the roughly seven miles to camp by mid-afternoon. We set up our tents next to a bright lake under an expanse of granite, which we hoped to bring up the next day. We staked out the llamas and gave them water in a collapsible bucket. (Wild greens are enough for their food, although we did have a plastic bag full of cereal as a special treat.)
Then, as if at the right time, the sky darkened and the thunder began to rumble. Hail bombarded us. Then rain. The temperature has plunged. Just before a cloud settled over our camp and visibility was limited to around 50 feet, Marian managed to get enough service on her phone to check the forecast. She grimly reported that the rain was not supposed to stop for the next 36 hours and would likely turn to snow.
That night, with nothing to do but sit in our tent, Jo and Jesse fell asleep early. I turned and returned, worried about whether the llamas were okay, our tent was staying dry, and whether it had been selfish to take two small children for a 14 mile hike over 10,000 feet in the sky. in the middle of a truly epic storm.
When I got up to check out the llamas the next morning, we were still wrapped in a cloud. Curtains of rain had turned our camp into a puddle of mud. Over hot chocolate and coffee, we decided that rather than sitting in our tents all day and packing our bags the next morning in the snow, it made sense to bail out early. It was disappointing, but also a relief. Surely I was rationalizing, even Boyd and Artemus would enjoy warming up and drying off. Their woolly fur was soaked.
Jo and Huck each burst into tears on the hike, pushed to their limits, I imagine, by the long days of trekking and wet conditions. But toddlers have blackouts even in good weather, and thanks to the llamas, we had plenty of snacks and warm diapers to cheer them up. As we drove the last two miles to the parking lot, the two children were singing, laughing and rushing to pick wild strawberries.
Despite the weight of my own soggy rain gear, I also felt lighter. Even though car camping would have been easier, there is something about the flashing raindrops on your eyelashes that helps you see the world a little more clearly.
With this renewed perspective, I decided that maybe it wasn’t selfish to bring our kids so deep into nature after all. I mean, OK, maybe that was a little selfish. But it’s also a gift to be able to offer your kids the experience of waking up to the drumming of the rain and the screams of a gray jay instead of the whine of a generator and the slam of a door. neighboring motorhome. We may have only had one night in the desert, but it was a night to remember. And maybe when our kids get older and try to find their way in a world that looks like I don’t know what, they’ll remember that no matter how bad things are, you can sleep in a tent under a tent. rain storm and wake up feeling washed up. .
Want to try the llama wrap yourself? Here’s how:
Where to go: Most western states have at least one llamas packing outfit; there are several options in Colorado alone. Llamas rentals are less common in other areas, although there are guided trips with llamas to nearby popular national parks, such as the Great Smoky Mountains.
What it costs: Redwood Llamas charges $ 775 for two llamas for three days and two nights. Because a lot of this goes towards orientation and transportation costs, a longer trip actually costs less money per day. We can also think of it this way: after having divided the cost between several families, it is cheaper than a weekend of skiing in a resort.
What to pack: While it’s tempting to pack more luxuriously than for a backpacking trip, keep in mind that everything should not only stay within the llamas’ weight limit, but also fit in their saddlebags. We stuck with the camping essentials (a light tent, sleeping bags and sleeping pads) and splurged on the food (real food instead of just dehydrated meals). Then we enclosed everything in waterproof storage bags to compress it enough to fit in the saddlebags.
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