Two years ago, Jerry Schubel, president and CEO of the����in Long Beach, California, told me, “If you want your kids to care about the ocean, get them to care about the things that live in the ocean.”��He invited my four children��(ages twelve, nine, four, and one at the time) to the aquarium for a day of petting sharks, feeding sea otters and manta rays, enjoying the company of��a precocious two-year-old Magellanic penguin, and shadowing��staff as they identified and logged��aquatic life sightings aboard��.��

On that cruise, we fell in love with a family of five fin whales swimming in the ocean. We could hear each whale breathe, and some of us got sprayed in the face by water from��their blowholes. Today��we still think about their well-being��and what we can do to prevent threats to��the second-largest species of whales.��

Now, with shelter-in-place orders in effect, I wondered how aquariums and ocean-conservation programs would��continue sharing these kinds of experiences remotely. Fortunately, the Aquarium of the Pacific and a number of other organizations throughout the country are offering families a variety of engaging activities online.��

Aquariums

The Aquarium of the Pacific’s�� includes��programs with its��educators, live��,�� videos, a , and a��. “The interaction between us and the audience is key,” says��David Bader, its director of education. “We are trying to use face-to-face teaching theories in a distance-learning platform. We are building connections and community among our viewers. We want people of all ages who are at home to engage with our exhibits and animals and learn about the ocean.”

The aquarium’s free�� app challenges both adults and kids to sustainably consume food, water, and energy. around the aquarium is an especially popular post.

is the public-outreach center for the Scripps Institution of Oceanography at the University of California at San Diego, one of the largest research programs for ocean and earth science. Tune in to its�� events and watch behind-the-scenes videos of things like��hatching����or a�� tank that is pumped with sea water,��which facilitates the growth of��algae.��

Each week��the�� premieres a new video in its�� YouTube series. Check out its��new��, which offers��field guides and lesson plans for kindergarten��through 12th grade. Its��most popular posts feature puppies from the Atlanta Humane Society while it’s closed to the public.

In Hawaii,����has set up��new��, like how to draw marine animals with Hawaiian nature artist Patrick Ching and webcams of the Hawaiian monk seal named Hoailona, the south shore of Waikiki, and the aquarium’s��galleries.

“Engaging and inspiring the public about the wonders of our blue planet is central to our mission,” says��Vikki N. Spruill, president and��CEO of the . To continue those efforts during the pandemic, her aquarium��is hosting��a��new series of��, daily live educational presentations��on�� at 11 A.M. EST, interviews with aquarists, and at-home projects. The��most popular video since its closure has been��the��.

Some unique opportunities have been made possible because aquariums are closed. From March 26 to April 14, the U.S. Fish and��Wildlife Service granted����in California a special exception to livestream what guests would normally not be allowed to see: resident��. Visit its�� page to find free self-paced online courses, such as�� for pre-K��to second grade��and�� for grades three through six. “Our education team helps students to think like a scientist while they learn about ocean animals and habitats��and what they can contribute to conservation,” says��Rita Bell, its vice president of education.��

Nonprofits and Government Agencies

The��, located��in Laguna Beach, California,��offers long-distance����that are��normally only available to��schools but are��now open to everyone. Using the��, participants can��take photos��of tagged seals��or sea lions in the wild��so the center can see where the animals they once took care of are and how they’re faring.��

manages 14 national marine sanctuaries as well as��the��Papahanaumokuakea and Rose Atoll Marine National Monuments, located in the North and South Pacific Oceans, respectively. Start with�� for��access to its��interactive live�� series, which includes videos like “,” early releases of its��, games, a curriculum, and expeditions.

The��, originally scheduled to run in March in San Francisco, has released its��films for free online. Movies��like ,��about a 16-year-old learning to scuba-dive,��were added for��middle school and high school students who were set��to attend the festival. “Some of these kids have never been to the ocean. Our goal is to bring the ocean to our audiences, since they can’t come to us,” says��executive director Ann Blanco. “Our desire is to keep the conversation going, so we can learn about the beauty of our ocean, the amazing animals that live in the ocean, and how we recreate with the ocean for our pleasure. The ocean brings us calm and reduces our stress, so we’re trying to help during this critical time with the power of film.”

Although virtual experiences provide similar benefits to reality, we had such a fantastic once-in-a-lifetime experience with the whales that I wasn’t sure how��virtual programs could compare. But��after a week of introducing these resources to my family, I noticed that my older kids would sometimes skip Fortnite meetups just to attend underwater livestreams. After working my way through the Aquarium of the Pacific’s lecture series��, I now serve my family only seafood from sustainable and responsible wild and farmed sources, and I��make smoothies with seaweed. And while watching the Monterey Bay Aquarium’s ��and listening to its social-media team answer��questions about stranded pups one day, my six-year-old giggled��at the sight of��Ivy, a��resident sea otter,��pouncing on the back of a pup, wrapping��her arms around the pup’s waist, and wrangling��her down to a sleeping position.��“Mom, that’s what you do with us,” my daughter��said.��My three-year-old asked��me to scratch her belly the way Ivy was��calming down her pup. Then she pointed��at the pup and said, “She looks just like me.”��

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Scouting for the best location to fly-fish is just as important as choosing the right fly or perfecting the art of presentation. After all, the stunning backdrop to that trophy-fish��photo will set the mood of your home. The character of the place,��along with any culinary delights or natural phenomena,��will offer all��the sensory details you’ll need to tell the most memorable tale. There’s still plenty of action to be had in the fall, when the crowds fade, making it a great time to hit streams too.

Here are��our picks for some far-flung catch-and-release spots worth the trip.

Nefji Waterfall, Iceland

Fish: Arctic char and brown trout

Imagine trying to stand your ground at the base of one of the most dramatic waterfalls in the highlands of Iceland, the largest undisturbed natural area in Europe. To counterbalance an overhead cast, you have to��brace yourself against the current of the River Kaldakvísl, which churns��beneath your feet like a racehorse. If you slip on the rocks, you could get swept downstream—where slower waters also afford excellent fishing—but that’s part of the excitement. Things are pretty much unpredictable here, except that��you won’t see anyone else on the river. leases fishing rights from the landowners,��ensuring that no one��hang out��here except its customers (and only four people per day are allowed). Day passes start at $615, which includes a local guide who knows all the secret spots, will bring��the gear you’ll need, and will pick you up from your hotel��in Reykjavík.

Rio Palena, Patagonia

Fish: Rainbow trout, sea-run brown trout, brook trout, king salmon, Pacific salmon

November and December—springtime in the Southern Hemisphere—are great months��to hurl streamers at trophy browns in the 149-mile Rio Palena, which runs through��Chile and Argentina,��while��January and February—summertime—are perfect for skating and twitching large dries. March brings lower levels of water and more concentrated fish, allowing you to mix dries, streamers, and nymphs.

Treat yourself to an all-inclusive angling trip at (from $1,050), a seven-suite property that opens in October��on the banks of the river.��Wade or float-fish in the freestone waters��right out��front, or sign up for a heli expedition to a remote stretch of river, as directed by your local guides, who��know where to fish the best hatches and how to maximize your time on its��banks.

Getting there isn’t easy: visitors typically fly into Santiago and then��catch a two-hour regional flight to Puerto Montt before transferring to another 35-minute flight to Chaitén��and driving three hours to the lodge. But most would argue that the feeling of having the river all to yourself is worth it.

Rock Creek, Montana

Fish: Westslope��cutthroat trout, rainbow trout, cut-bow trout, brown trout, brook trout, bull trout, Rocky Mountain whitefish, Arctic grayling

The 52-mile-long Rock Creek is a blue-ribbon trout stream east of Missoula, Montana, between the Sapphire and John Long Mountains. It has the highest fish counts in the state��within its fast currents, deep pools, and undercut banks, all easily accessible by wading.

Four miles of Rock Creek runs through��the��,��a luxury dude ranch located on 6,600 acres. While the five-star property has a no-expenses-spared vibe, you’ll find a casual crowd that comes for the Old West spirit and knowledgable guides who can show you the best places to fish and share their secrets on which fly or presentation works best. And because most of Rock Creek flows through Lolo National Forest, anglers have easy access to the stream, as well as campsites and cabins��if you want to go that route. Hiking, mountain biking, and other activities offer a��break from catching fish.

Gauley River, West Virginia

Fish: Trout, smallmouth bass, walleye, muskellunge

West Virginia is home to New River Gorge National River, Gauley River National Recreation Area, and Bluestone National Scenic River, but the Gauley has more fish than the other two because of its unique ecosystem and remoteness. The river drops 668 feet through 25 miles of rugged terrain, with steep gradients and treacherous chutes that also make it a world-class whitewater destination.

Bobby Bowers, the owner of , personally designs every trip to each customer’s specifications, with rates starting at $150. He can get you close to high-yield spots,��so��all you’ll need to do is a simple roll cast from the raft’s swivel seat. Stay in a cabin (from $65) or rent a campsite (from $15) at . Besides fishing, the outfitter��also offers rafting, stand-up paddleboarding, mountain biking, and rock climbing.

Horlachbach, Austria

Fish: Rainbow trout, brown trout, char

In an area of eastern Austria called Ötztal, a scenic valley surrounded by 10,000-foot peaks, fly-fishers enjoy deep, clear, oxygen-rich mountain streams like the Horlachbach, a tributary of the Ötztaler��Ache��River��that’s��dotted with waterfalls. Locals claim the relative lack of brush growing along these waterways makes it��ideal for fly-fishing. Stay in tepees, lodges, or double rooms at (from $46) along the high-volume waterway. The area also has��climbing, caving, canyoneering, and rafting��to fill the time when you’re not standing in the stream.

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Canyoneering��didn’t explode into the mainstream until the mid-2000s, and because women’s gear tends to follow long behind men’s, women-specific items��designed for this sport are rare. Most canyoneers adapt their caving, swimming, climbing, cliff-jumping, and river-running equipment, but they��can��run into issues of durability or weight due to the wide range of terrain and conditions. In Zion National Park, for instance, you might hike for miles in a desert��and then need a wet suit to drop into a slot.

But one of the many things I��love about canyoneering is��the challenge of packing the right gear for unpredictable moments. To find the ideal women’s kit, I spent months canyoneering in places like Hawaii and the country of Jordan. Here are the items that��came out on top.

Metolius Safe Tech Women’s Deluxe Harness ($105)

A specialized canyoneering harness with a durable butt pad is great for sliding and chimneying; however, the industry hasn’t yet produced a women-specific version. This is the next best thing. The�� is the only harness in the world that can adjust in three dimensions: around your waist, leg loop circumference, and rise length (the distance between your crotch and hip crest). Women typically have a longer rise than men.��“If the rise is too short, all the weight is taken by the leg loops and none by the waist belt, and this scenario can tip you backwards in a fall, which is quite dangerous,” says Brooke Sandahl, vice president of Metolius.��“If the rise length is too long, the weight is taken all on the waist belt, making a very uncomfortable or dangerous loading of the torso for the climber.”

When I’m wearing this harness, I often don’t bother taking it off even if I still have miles to hike before the slots. The heavy-duty, hand-stitched fabric makes it durable enough for canyoneering, but it does take��longer to dry than other harnesses. That’s a small sacrifice since this is also the only harness that rates features beyond just the tie-in points, belay loop, and haul loop. Sandahl adds, “If someone mistakenly clips into a gear loop or rear haul loop��(depending on the load), there is a good chance that the load-rated part will hold this mistake.”

Petzl Boreo Helmet ($70)

The����is not designed specifically for canyoneering or women, but I still recommend it for both��because, according to Benjamin Eaton, Petzl’s marketing manager, “What differentiates this helmet from other hard-shelled climbing helmets is that it’s completely lined with energy-absorbing foam to better protect the front, rear, and sides of the head from hard impacts. Most hard-shelled helmets only have foam located above the crown, providing energy absorption to only the top of the head.”

The shell is lightweight, scratch-resistant, and durable for squeezing through narrow spaces. Its low profile also doesn’t make my head look elongated like some dorky helmets do.

Bestard Canyon Guide Lady ($230)

With input from female testers and marketers, Bestard designed the first-ever women-specific canyoneering boots. The�� offers a lightweight, low-volume fit. Handmade in Spain, these boots were designed��for maximum resistance to wear and tear, from their Cordura uppers��to their Vibram soles.

Though the Guide Ladies took up some serious real estate in my����during the two weeks I was in Jordan, I was glad they were on my feet for every one of the��five times I tried to run Wadi Mujib, a river canyon that feeds into the Dead Sea. I hiked around the nature reserve four times because the rain had flooded parts of the canyon and made conditions too dangerous. But when I finally got in on my fifth attempt, the boots not only held up well on the approach but also adapted like a fish to the river. Water evacuated through four holes just above the sole and the Cordura. The tough Vibram outsoles gripped slippery boulders and slick ladder rungs. While everyone else stopped every few miles to empty pebbles from their shoes, the built-in gaiter at the top of my boots kept all the sand and debris out.

Astral Layla PFD ($140)

PFDs are required in some canyons, like Wadi Mujib, but if you’re not a strong swimmer, you’ll appreciate having one regardless of the rules. Sometimes��I even wear my�� to float down the river on my back. The organic kapok foam, a sustainable buoyant material that comes from the seedpod of a kapok tree, forms to my body, hugging the right places without ever squeezing too tight. The bottom line: this PFD is designed with a woman’s bust in mind.

Christie Dobson, vice president��of sales��and marketing at Astral, says that in 1994, when Philip Curry started Lotus Designs (before Astral), there were no women-specific life jackets on the market. “That made no sense to him,” Dobson says.��“The company’s head seamstress, who sewed custom prom and wedding gowns in her spare time, proposed a PFD with princess seams—a classic formalwear design that conforms to the natural curves of a woman’s body.” The design stuck.

Miraclesuit MSP Grid Lock Swim Paddle Pant ($90)

Made of a propriety Miratex fabric that has more than twice the Lycra and three times the holding power compared to other swimsuits, the�� slims my tummy and slenderizes my legs and hips. More important, the material is tough enough to withstand sliding down abrasive sandstone.

I learned its true value the day I abseiled down Fern Creek Waterfall in West Virginia. Climber and rafter Kyle Kent, founder of��, rigged a releasable abseil to a monolithic hemlock tree and lowered my husband into an overhanging chimney. Then Kent coached me over the edge while my husband photographed my first descent.��I was nervous, but I remember thinking that at least I looked great because I had these flattering pants on. The Paddle pant held up flawlessly against both rock and water, and I didn’t have to ask the group to wait for me to change before the hike back up the ladders on the Endless Wall.

Oakley Outpace ($143)

As I descended Fern Creek Waterfall, I swung into and out of the sunlight, and��my����sunglasses adjusted accordingly. The Prizm��lenses��increased contrast and reduced glare, helping me pinpoint the safest place to land in the boulder field. Even in the shade, the colors of the lichen and algae on the sandstone��remained vibrant.

The no-slip nosepads and earsocks keep��the Outpace from tangling in my hair and help the sunglasses��hold their grip when I sweat. But my favorite feature is the ventilation built into the top of each lens—they never fog up in the humidity.

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When I was growing up, my parents took me to nearly every national park in the United States. I’m continuing that tradition with my four kids (made more affordable with the ) and have learned a few things along the way. Did you know that there are and programs, Junior Ranger badges you can collect from each park, to download, and that can be earned virtually? Well, there are. And these tips will help you take advantage of all that.

Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, Alaska

“Drive at your own risk. Watch out for loose railroad spikes.” Don’t let this sign deter you from a family road trip on the 62-mile unpaved to the historic mining town of Kennecott. My kids were five and two when they eagerly carried their bags across the Kennecott River footbridge to catch a shuttle to , where they relaxed after dinner in . Outfitters like can help get your kids hiking on a glacier with crampons.

Glacier National Park, Montana

When my parents drove me across the Continental Divide on Glacier’s , I squealed in excitement as we carved through cedar forests, past sheer cliffs, glacial lakes, and alpine tundra. I never appreciated it as an engineering marvel until I photographed my toddlers learning how to walk among the wildflowers flourishing at 6,646 feet, the kind of interior backcountry park areas that are normally inaccessible to children.

This is the only place in America where you’ll find these : national park, biosphere reserve, international peace park, and world heritage site. It’s one of the last ecologically intact areas remaining in the temperate regions of the world. My kids recommend Glacier’s (guide-and-goodie-filled backpacks that parents can check out from the visitor center) and the interactive “” exhibit.

Mount Rainier National Park, Washington

At 14,410 feet above sea level, is a magnificent fourteener to summit with your budding peakbagger. It’s the tallest and most active volcano in the Cascade Range and has the largest system of glaciers outside Alaska. The include virtual guides to animals, plants, glaciers, and volcanoes.

Zion National Park, Utah

There are no age limitations for canyoneering waterfalls, Navajo sandstone cliffs, and technical slot canyons in , as long as you know what you’re doing (no guided services are allowed) and obtain a . If you don’t know what you’re doing, you can take a class with or go on their family canyoneering adventure just outside the park, where the guides have rappelled a two-year-old(!) down a canyon. For something tamer, the park has a and a nature center that’s open daily from 2 to 6 p.m. in summer.

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I am a cross mom—a woman who snowboards hard and fast, not only for fun, but also on race day, when my kids are competing in snowboard cross. Cross moms help the coaches slip the course or rush from the start to the finish line because of equipment failures or nerves. Sometimes we hike up steep slopes and stand for hours in rain or snow to photograph or ring cowbells at the athletes whipping by.

Throughout the winter, you’ll find me and my fellow moms on the snow or at the bar discussing gear: what’s women-specific; who’s designing functional, natural palettes with looser-fitting options; and whether a product is tough enough to keep up with our lifestyles. After another long season of snowboard cross, we��found a few clear winners that helped us tackle long days on snow.

Gnu��Zoid ($420)

This board makes me feel like a superhero, especially when it allows me to execute cheek-grazing carves thanks to its longer toe-side edge. “We aren’t just shrinking the men’s models and adding pretty graphics,” says Barrett Christy, a member of the first U.S. snowboarding team at the 1998 Olympics and head of women’s product design and sports marketing at Mervin Manufacturing. “Our women’s boards all have designs that take into consideration the waist width, core profiles, and torsional flex, as well as nose-to-tail flex. Depending on the model, the core profiles are sometimes engineered with softer wood strips at the toe and heel edge that respond to lighter-weight riders and allow for a softer torsional flex.”

Gnu B-Free Bindings ($210)

I never have to slow down at the top of the lift and fuss with bindings when I’m using these . I can slip my loose foot into it as I unload off a lift, reach down with one hand to strap on, then leave my fellow boarders in the dust while they’re still fussing with their bindings. Near the end of the season, thanks to the Zoid board and B-Free bindings, my kids were begging me for a head start when we raced because they said I was too fast for them.

DC Snowboards Mora Boa Boots ($280)

It can be challenging to find a comfortable boot for wider calves and feet. Fellow cross mom Ankita Christian suggests lace-up boots rather than the Boa system: “Since I’ve had three kids, my feet are wide. Instead of tightening my whole foot, I like to leave the toe box wider and lace my ankle and calf tight so I can control my board.”

Another solution: . The dual-closure system allows me to tighten the calf and ankle separately from the part around the instep and top of my foot. A neoprene expansion zone at the upper cuff accommodates different calf sizes. The liner is made with moisture-wicking EVA memory foam and high-rebound, heat-moldable EVA with thermal-regulating fleece that keeps my feet warm and so comfortable that I don’t feel the need to change into après shoes after a few runs.

The North Face Purist Jacket and Pants ($330 and $292)

My fellow cross mom Leslie Dreisbach and I have the same problem: “It’s hard to find pants that fit five-foot-two chicks who don’t wear an extra small to match our height,” she says. I’ve tried snow pants in every brand, and only The North Face’s “short” inseam fits me. That’s why I fell in love with the company’s and , brand new for 2017 and updated for 2018. They were designed by a woman who used to make motorcycle jackets, so she has an eye for how something fits while in motion. The 2018 version features reinforced ripstop material that’s stretchier and offers more durability and range of motion. It also has elastic thumb-loop cuffs, an improved jacket-to-pant integration, and a hood that’s big enough to flip up easily over a helmet.

Roxy x Biotherm Collection (From $20)

The embeds microscopic capsules in the fabric of neck warmers, jacket collars, gloves, and mitts that wear down from the friction of your skin against the fabric. Inside each capsule is Biotherm’s hydrating formula of nourishing shea butter and apricot oil, anti-inflammatory Marine-Christe extract, and moisturizing antioxidant vitamin E that feels great on my skin and has a light fruity scent. There’s a catch: To keep the hydrating formula intact, don’t wash the fabric more than 15 times at anything warmer than 40 degrees.

G-Form Pro-X Compression Women’s Shirt��and Shorts ($78��and $72)

According to G-Form, the molecules in the company’s foam bind together only upon impact to absorb and dissipate energy. They repel each other in their relaxed state, which means the pads are so comfortable and flexible that I often forget I have them on. The Reactive Protective Technology offers the lightest protection on the market and the highest amount of impact absorption, flexibility, and comfort for men, women, and youth (as tested by my husband, kids in races, and me). The elbow and knee pads aren’t gender-specific, but the G-Form Pro-X Compression ��and are cut specifically for women. I especially enjoyed the breathable compression material, which doesn’t slide around, is machine washable, and makes me look extra slim.

Anon Omega Helmet (From $152)

The ear pads and liner in Anon’s are made with a long-hair fleece fabric that’s warmer and softer than the company’s men’s helmets. It has an easy chinstrap buckle system that works with gloves on and 15 vents that easily open and shut with one hand. Upgrade to the model with MIPS, which provides advanced protection against angled impacts.

Outdoor Research Lucent Heated Gloves ($359)

The steep price of is worth it for one reason: Of all the gloves I tested this season, none stayed as dry for as long as these. They kept my hands toasty via a battery-powered heating system that lasts eight hours on low, five hours on medium, and 2.5 hours on high. The tightening straps can also cinch down around my kids’ wrists (even my one-year-old’s tiny wrists). The large handles at the ends of the gloves allow me to quickly pull them off when I need to dig into my pocket for my phone.

The North Face Etip Gloves ($45)

Though I swear by OR’s heated gloves for long days, my everyday go-tos all winter were . The full-palm conductivity allowed me to text or snap photos without exposing my hands to snow. The silicone gripper palm helped me prevent dropping my phone—no cracked screens here.

Oakley Harmony Fade Collection (From $150)

These bright orange and red goggles were a common sight at the Olympics. Oakley offers three options in the collection: the , the , and the . They all feature the company’s exclusive , which keep my vision clear through all kinds of conditions. Oakley engineers worked with athletes like Chloe Kim and Lindsay Vonn to understand what’s important for them to see, boosting good light (like blue and orange colors to enhance detail and contours in snow environments) and blocking bad light so the eye doesn’t have to adjust nearly as much. Bonus: Oakley also offers Asian and youth fits in this line.

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Mist consumed the last of the daylight and swallowed up the steep sides of the narrow that cuts through Alaska’s . It obscured even my husband, Thomas, whose boots occasionally sent down bits of ice and scree onto my head.

We hadn’t spoken to each other for miles. We arrived at Sheep Camp late the night before, missing a critical ranger talk that warned hikers to be on the trail by 6 a.m. in order to cross the pass before noon and cover��four miles through avalanche country to Happy Camp. Not knowing this, we took our time eating breakfast and breaking camp, then left leisurely around noon. After all, we needed to cover just 7.5 miles. What we didn’t account for was the fact that there was a 2,500 vertical feet climb to the summit��followed by snowfield crossings on the Canadian side, which��typically took folks 12 hours to complete. At the moment, we were tackling the final approach to the summit, a 45-degree vertical rock scramble. But the tension had already begun yesterday, when my husband hurt his back from using an ill-fitting pack not long after setting out on the Chilkoot Trail. Between curse words, he grumbled, “So this is how you wanted to celebrate our ten-year anniversary?”

I said nothing then, just as I said nothing now, though I was in desperate need of a water break. In my head, I repeated a mantra: —the hardships that plagued��30,000 Klondike Gold Rush stampeders along this trail in 1897 and 1898.

The Chilkoot Trail stretches 33 miles from Dyea, Alaska, to Lake Bennett, British Columbia. Hikers follow in the footsteps of Tlingit Indians who used this trail for trade and Gold Rush stampeders who carried a year’s worth of supplies over the pass on their backs, up to 80 pounds��at a time. Some lost their lives.��Many left evidence of their passage in the form of boot soles, canvas boats, and tin cans that can still be seen along��the trail.

Over seven years of living in Alaska, I’d heard single friends and couples without kids talk about their adventures on the Chilkoot. Though the route now takes three to five days to complete compared to the three months it took the stampeders, unpredictable weather conditions and rangers discourage novice hikers from attempting it. I had set my sights on this trip as a perfect metaphorical journey for our ten-year anniversary. I wanted to reaffirm our solidarity: Our life journey together might be fraught with struggle, but wouldn’t we, like stampeder Walter Curtin, who did not make a cent during the gold rush and witnessed men going mad on this trail, also “turn the clock back” and do it over again if we could? I wanted to get perspective that at least we would never live through anything as awful. I wanted to return briefly to those precious days before kids, when we had time to wade into glacier-fed rivers and cast a line.

But mostly I hoped that we would find what , a mining engineer who was one of the first to begin the stampede, wrote to his mother on August 9, 1897: “Last night while looking up at the stars rolled snugly up in my sleeping bag I saw the grand Northern lights shooting up from a semicircle above the mountain and looking exactly like huge search lights shifting and cutting into space. It made me feel that now we were nearer the presence of our Maker than I had ever been before and I felt how small and trivial our small troubles and pleasures had been.”

When Thomas proposed to me beneath heavy snowfall in Denali National Park, I thought we had found where we belonged. We bought a log cabin nestled along the Eagle River to raise our two children, now nine��and 12��years old.

Then, the year before the hike, Thomas announced he was done with Alaska. After his father’s sudden death, he wanted to return to the East Coast. I fully understood and supported that reasoning, but at the same time I worried that Alaska had changed our characters. I had allowed the wild parts of myself to take root and wanted to subsist off the land, but after years raising a family in the harsh elements, he’d become more appreciative of city life. Could we stay married if we didn't agree on where we wanted to live?

In the end, Thomas made me choose: Alaska or my marriage. I chose him. Today, we live in a big city on the East Coast. I needed this return trip, but nobody understood why we were going to such lengths for our anniversary. We nearly had to cancel our trip because relatives were unwilling to watch our kids. I was told I had my priorities wrong, that I should spend more time being a role model for my children. Because Thomas resented me for being tempted to choose Alaska and I resented him for giving me an ultimatum, we didn’t train together or coordinate our gear. Now we were paying for it.

As I got closer to the pass, I collapsed, not so much from the physical pain��but the emotional. In that moment of confusion, Thomas materialized out of the mist. He grabbed the pack I was carrying and disappeared before I could tell him he was right: I was not having fun��either. I got up to follow him and realized that Thomas, despite injuring his back and nursing several water blisters on his swollen feet, had been hiking one pack up at a time: a men’s��North Face pack from my backpacking days in Europe, the same one that injured him yesterday because it didn’t fit, and a Granite Gear award-winning pack that he’d spoiled me with on my birthday. Suddenly, I heard from ahead of us: “Are you okay?” Two hikers appeared from the distance.

“Yeah,” Thomas hollered. “Are we close to the summit?”

“Yes,” the woman answered.

“Where are you heading?” I asked, happy that we weren’t the only fools who had underestimated the difficulty of this 33-mile hike.

The man chuckled. “We’re wardens out looking for you.” After every hiker that day reported that they never spotted us on the trail, the wardens became concerned.

We had all the right gear. Most of the hikers we’d seen so far on the trail were about ten or 20 years older than us, and we were experienced long-distance backpackers. This was so embarrassing. Still, we let the wardens lead us to the summit’s emergency shelter. The male warden hiked in front of us, and the female warden took up the rear. We arrived at the shelter in less than 15 minutes. The wardens offered us two thermoses of hot water and insisted that we stay in the shelter that night. Before I could protest, I read the sign on the shelter: “Rest briefly, then move on. Leave backpacks outside.” Next to that, a warning that we would soon have to pass through the Stone Crib avalanche path—“the most hazardous area during the hiking season.”

We shed our wet jackets and packs on the warm benches, thanked the wardens as they left to return to their station on the summit, and shut the door on the flurry of wind, rain, and mist outside. It would be the only night during this four-day trek that we stayed dry.

Thomas pampered me that night with the best cup of hot cocoa I’ve ever tasted, my favorite , a massage, duct tape on my blisters, a flask of rum, and Backpacker’s Pantry dark chocolate cheesecake. He joked about how I liked to make his life difficult, that it was my evil plan to cripple him—my ultimate revenge for making me leave Alaska. We laughed and laughed the way we’d forgotten to. We realized that when all the resentments, responsibilities, and stress of raising a family together are stripped away, there is still a solid foundation of love.

In the morning, as much as I wanted to bury my face in his chest and hide from the world, I couldn’t wait to see the view from the summit. I crept out of my sleeping bag and slipped outside just as the sun rose, looking down at a lake so still that it mirrored the sky above. I think I felt what Pearce had described.

In the same letter, Pearce wrote that the Chilkoot Trail “will make a man of me, and should I get through this trip I shall be able to undertake anything in the world.”

Over the next two days and 16.5 miles, the wilderness sorted out our affairs. We shared meals with couples who had figured out how to live with their differences. One woman explained that she completed these long-distance hikes with her sibling rather than her husband. We met one man at the end of the trail who confessed that he had started with his wife but then faked an injury so she would have to finish on her own. He hoped a bottle of champagne at the finish line would help her forgive him. And Thomas and I talked about how we’ve become polarized over the years. He preferred to retire on a beach, the bustle of a city, somewhere warm. I wanted Alaska, the cold, remote places. We tried to brainstorm compromises.

At the Bennett train station, where all the hikers celebrated surviving the trip with beef stew, someone pointed at us and said, “Oh my god, you guys are ‘The Couple in Trouble.’” Apparently, we’d become well-known among everyone on the trail on that ill-fated day, when the wardens had asked any hiker who crossed the Chilkoot Pass whether they had seen a “couple in trouble.”

Yes, we were. And maybe that was OK. When Thomas woke that morning in the emergency shelter and joined me on the edge of a cliff overlooking Crater Lake, I asked for his forgiveness.

“What do I need to forgive you for?” he asked.

I had not expected that reply. “Um, I thought you’ve been mad at me for not wanting to leave Alaska.” It was the first time in our marriage that we hadn’t agreed on a big-ticket item.

Thomas shrugged. “You’re here, right?”

Yes, I’m right here.

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