Several years ago, I was pedaling a cargo bike uphill with my three- and five-year-old sons, who were savagely heckling me. “Go faster!” they cried. “Speed it up, slowpoke,” they laughed. Something in me snapped. I pulled over to the side of the road, made both boys get off the bike, and established a rule: they could only be radically encouraging and say things like “Go, Mommy, go! You’re so strong!” They had to practice ten times before I allowed them back on the bike.

This was not simply ego stroking. I love my boys, obviously, but the world does not need more men who think being rude or obnoxious is acceptable. In my dream world, a boy “just being a boy” means acting with kindness, compassion, humor, and empathy. I want my boys to be brave but not jerks. No one likes a smug know-it-all.

Through a mix of hands-on experience, books and articles, conversations with my (brave) husband, and interviewing experts in child development, I’ve come up with several tips for raising brave boys. (It’s probably important to note that my kids are now seven and nine—I’ll report back in ten years, after puberty hits, and let you know how much of this still holds true.)

Establish Responsibilities

I expect my boys to help clean the house, do their laundry, load their dishes in the dishwasher, and share with one another. I hope I would have those same expectations even if I had a daughter, but , I’d be more likely to pile domestic obligations on her than on them. The gender gap, it turns out, starts at home, where parents give girls more work than boys. This must change. And the only way it will is if parents delegate equal domestic responsibility to boys and girls.

Foster Kindness

Since my kids were young, I’ve encouraged them to name their feelings, especially when they’re unsettled and vulnerable. When one of them says he feels “fragile,” we talk about it, and the family makes a concerted effort to treat him with extra kindness. I’ve never told my kids to “man up,” and I have no plans to. If they cry, I hug them. As they’ve gotten older, they treat one another and their friends similarly.

Encourage Emotional Strength

This is a big one for outdoor education. Paul Dreyer, the CEO of  and a longtime NOLS instructor told me, “Emotional strength is being strong for others, supporting them. This can be cheering on a friend struggling to finish a climb on belay, or stepping back and letting a kid go in front of them instead of taking the first turn.” This teaches kids that their involvement extends beyond the hands-on part of the activity. In other words, the world doesn’t revolve exclusively around them.

Develop Physical Strength

The modern world doesn’t care if your kids sit in front of a screen for hours every day. You should. Joy and confidence can come from being physically strong. That’s why I take my kids hiking, skiing, and mountain biking, even if they start out whining. And while you’re helping them get strong, expose kids to different options, says Dreyer. “That way they get a chance to experience both strength and weaknesses across multiple sports,” he says.

Model Humility

I do not want to see more dudes holding court about how awesome they are, even if those dudes are my sweet spawn and are only seven and nine. When the boys get too braggy, I point it out so they know how they sound. I strive to send the message that love of the sport is better than shouting how great they are from the rooftops.

Talk About Fear

A lot of boys get the message that being vulnerable is tantamount to being weak. This pressure can lead to depression and anxiety, said Dreyer: “Teaching boys to think about fear and vulnerability as opportunities for growth—instead of evidence of weakness—will go a long way toward a more equitable world where everyone feels more satisfied and confident in who they are.”

Recently, my nine-year-old came home from the soccer car pool in tears, because one of the other boys made mean comments to him on the drive. He wanted to quit the car pool, possibly even the sport. After several conversations, his distress seemed rooted not just in the other kid’s immaturity but feeling inadequate on the team and worrying that his teammates agree with his bully. Not everyone can be a star player, I told him. And not everyone is kind. We named the problem, practiced how he could respond, and he played (and carpooled) on without trouble. This was a minor incident, but my hope is that small things like this will add up, develop trust, and help my boys build confidence and growÌęŸ±ČÔto more empathetic, mature human beings.

Read our story on raising brave girls here.

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Two days after the mid-March moved through my hometown of Boulder, Colorado, the clouds lifted, the sun glared in the sky, and all of the kids at my sons’ elementary school wore shorts. The heat melted the snow and transformed the school grounds into a massive mud hole. With no after-school activities, I let my boys loose—along with about a dozen friends—and within minutes, they were unrecognizable.

Mud clumped in their hair and filled their shoes. Their clothes turned an ugly brown. They used the earth to paint lines and dots on their foreheads and cheeks.

I loved it. Another mom wrung her hands before leaning into me conspiratorially and saying she had a basketball in her car.

“And?” I asked.

“We could distract them from the mud.”

As if anything could distract a kid from rolling around in cool muddy mud. Put simply: Kids love to get dirty. They splash in puddles and roll around in dry dirt, or they shuffle their feet so they look like a walking, talking version of Pigpen from “Peanuts.” In my nine years as a parent I have learned that, given the chance, kids will get dirty—if their parents let them.

I almost always let them.

There are few things kids can control in their own lives. From the minute they’re born (and even before that), they’re monitored and regulated and socialized. It happens before you even know it: pediatricians charting an infant’s weight and length within hours of their birth and then continuing to do so throughout childhood. Preschool teachers holding conferences with parents where they discuss, in all seriousness, a four-year-old’s aptitude when it comes to painting or sharing. Team sports, music lessons, drama classes, and more starting in kindergarten and ratcheting up in intensity all the way through high school. Rules and homework and discipline.

I’m glad for these social mores—I don’t want to raise kids who are assholes. But I also want to encourage independence and help my kids experience that ineffable feeling of an untroubled mind and body acting in unison.

It’s not always easy. Dirt helps.

When a kid gets dirty out in the world, it’s almost entirely on their terms. They become the boss of their body. Their imagination goes into overdrive, and they experience the independence and thrill of flaunting social expectations that say they ought not get filthy.

Playing in the dirt is also good for kids’ . Ours is a mostly sanitized society and has become much more so since the industrial revolution. With the majority of citizens living in cities and suburbs, as opposed to farms, kids are less exposed to microbes and other healthy bacteria. that lack of such exposure can contribute to the onset of chronic inflammatory disorders and allergies. In the dirt (with the obvious exception of dirt that is known to be polluted), kids excavate microbes and other bacteria that bolster their systems.

Save for the possibility of ruining some clothes (but you didn’t send them off in their most precious duds, did you?) or getting cold when the mud dries and the sun goes behind the clouds, there’s very little risk to letting kids get dirty. The rewards, by contrast, are high.

At the end of my boys’ muddy day in March, they were covered head to toe. They had an exuberance to them, and they bellowed in glee as we walked home. That night they showered, cleaned the bathtub, and then showered again. They ate heartily at dinner and cheerfully helped tidy up afterward. Both boys went to bed early and fell asleep without fuss. Whether there’s a smudge or an entire layer of muck on that joyful youngin’, my only bit of advice is to roll with it. Better to have a happy kid and dirty towels than a clean, sanitized one whining that there’s nothing to do.

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Ever since my first son was born, in 2010, hiking has proven to be a rich and forgiving family activity. Though I prefer to trail run and mountain bike when I’m away from my nine- and seven-year-old, neither are (currently) conducive to quality family time. By contrast, everyone can hike. We started with small jaunts once the boys could walk, which has given way to longer outings. All told, we’ve spent countless hours on the trail, and I’ve become a default expert on how to encourage my kids to hike.

And encouragement is necessary. Even though my boys are mostly thrilled when we’re actually out walking, more often than not, the mention of a hike elicits groans, whining, and protests. Here’s what works for me to get the kids on the trail and make it as enjoyable as possible once we’re out.

Don’t Call It Hiking

First, don’t call it “hiking.” That sounds too much like “work” or “broccoli.” Not that those things are bad. It’s just that they imply some sort of austerity. So, don’t call it anything at all. Just tell your kids to get their shoes on and to follow you. I learned this tip from my husband, Jeff, a few summers ago. While I was steeped in NATO-level negotiations with a recalcitrant three-year-old, he just handed over the shoes and started walking. To my amazement, the boys followed, and within minutes, were giggling and having fun.

Choose an Interesting Trail

Walking a flat dirt road is boring. Walking a narrow winding trail is intriguing. It’s even better if your trail has a lot of trees or boulders along the way that a kid can climb on. Water is awesome. Hiking near rivers or lakes or alongside an ocean gives kids a target at which to throw rocks. They can gather sticks and pretend to fish (or actually bring rods and fish for real), dip their toes, fill their sun hats with water to cool off their hot heads, and splash around. Let the natural environment interest the kids. Look for animal tracks and bones, and point out interesting plants and birds.

Slow Down

You might care about getting to Point B, which may be a summit or a view point that’s exactly 2.3 miles from Point A. Most kids don’t care, so try to let go of your power walking and enjoy the trail instead. And while you’re slowing down, chill out. On the trail, I set aside my massive aversion to violent play and let the boys pretend that sticks are guns and swords. (They still aren’t allowed to hit or shoot at a human!) The lumps and shadows off the trail are menaces to be vanquished. Sometimes I help the kids in their battles, but usually I just let them run ahead to “shoot” things and applaud them when they deliver us from danger.

Set Goals

Most kids like having achieved a summit, especially as they age. Here in Colorado, my boys are angling to bag a fourteener this summer. I’m using this desire as leverage: everything we do that’s remotely exercise-related is in service of our fourteener goal. So far, it’s motivating the boys to ride bikes, run, and walk more than usual.

Give Them Responsibilities

When your kids get a little older, entrust them with pocketknives of their own. Be clear about the rules, and teach them how to use the knife. Once they earn your trust, let them whittle wood, cut the salami, or simply carry the knife on a lanyard around their neck on camping trips. When it’s time to start a fire, ask them to gather kindling. If you have a dog, bring the dog and let your kid hold its leash for a while. Anything you can do to help a kid feel responsible and trustworthy while hiking (and otherwise) is positive for their development and their stoke level.

Don’t Skimp on the Snacks

I try to find the right balance between healthy and tasty fuel. Fresh fruit is a good natural incentive. Clementines pack well, as do apples. But there’s always some chocolate and candy in my pack. We call these “Scooby Snacks,” and they’re doled out on a limited basis. We eat fueling carbs like fruit, trail mix, or granola bars first, then some protein if I can convince the kids they want beef jerky or hard-boiled eggs, and then candy as a reward. Take as many water stops as the kids want, and then a few more. A dehydrated or hungry kid is a grumpy kid.

Invite Friends

Peer pressure goes a long way, so bring friends. Smile at other people on the trail. If you’re lucky, they’ll smile at your kids and give them high-fives. Once, during a family vacation to Scotland, my young sons hiked 3,000 vertical feet up Goatfell Peak on Arran Island with the encouragement of enthusiastic passing Scots who cheered them with “Way to go, ye wee lads!”

Take Their Worries Seriously

We’ve all seen a kid acting like their foot fell off when they don’t even have small cut, but bring a first-aid kit and indulge their concerns about blisters and pains anyway. Sometimes there’s nothing to doctor, but the placebo effect of a Band-Aid cannot be overstated. And sometimes there is an actual blister. For those, keep moleskin and a spare pair of kid socks in your pack.

Repeat as Often as Possible

A hike in the woods is a balm to the soul. You know that, but it isn’t the kind of thing you can explain to a kid. You just have to do it over and over until they understand it intrinsically, without even knowing they’ve absorbed the lesson. Do that, and your kids will have hiking to return to their entire lives. If you’re lucky, as they get older and more competent and adventurous, they’ll bring you along.

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The most pivotal experience of my adolescence was spending three days alone on an island off the coast of Maine with a tarp, a bag of trail mix, a sleeping bag, an apple, a sleeping pad, and plenty of water. My solo, at age 15, was part of a 21-day sea-kayaking and sailing course. I journaled, contemplated boredom, did many jumping jacks, and emerged with a sense of accomplishment and self-reliance that paved my way for a lifetime of outdoor adventure.

So naturally, I want to give my sons, who are nine and seven, similar opportunities to spend time alone outside, solve problems, and experience the world in its massiveness. But it’s one thing to be an Outward Bound student; it’s something else to be the responsible parent deciding how much independence to grant kids outside and when. I reached out to Truckee, California, resident , a raft guide turned doctor and the mother of four, for advice. She abides by four basic steps: teach, plan, supervise, and let go.

Teach

Before letting them run wild, teach your kids basic safety rules, like what to avoid (open water or busy streets), how to assess their own skills, and what to do if they get into trouble. This is a lifelong process that is best begun in toddlerhood, says Anderson. “I used to send my kids on ‘expedition missions’ as toddlers and preschoolers,” she says. “We’d be out on a trail, and I would send them off into the woods on an objective.”

The mission could be gathering pine cones or rocks or counting birds. The point is to give the kids a task that they can do outside of your immediate purview. As your kids get older, teach them how to navigate so you can trust that they’ll be able to ride their bike or walk to a designated spot. Show your child what you’re doing and why. On the ski hill, let them pick the slopes. If you’re camping, let them set up the tent. Hiking? Let them pick the route.

Plan

Come up with an oh-shit plan just for the adults. Assess the potential danger of any given scenario, and identify how you would get out of it. (Broken arm at the crag? Map directions to the nearest doctor. Have a kid with food allergies? Stash the EpiPen in your pack.) Don’t tell the kids the plan, says Anderson—this one is a backup. “The kids should feel as if they’re totally on their own in the wild, and you should have a general sense of where they are and what’s going on,” she says. “They run wild and free, and I’ve identified potential problem spots and made a calculated risk as to what I’m comfortable with and what I’m not comfortable with.”

Another important part of the plan is communicating with your kids, says Anderson. “Explain, ‘Here is the situation, and I want you to make good choices. This and that should be on your radar. Here’s what you need to do.’ And then get confirmation that they understand,” she says.

Supervise

Parents will have varying degrees of risk acceptance. Anderson believes it’s fine for your kids to experience natural consequences—so long as they don’t endure serious injury. If the kids are bouldering, for example, they might get themselves into a sticky situation high up on a rock and need a rescue. That’s an acceptable risk. Sure, they might get scared, and there might be tears, but they’ll learn a lot about their limits and how to take care of themselves. They will also know they can trust you to help them out when they need it.

“You have to be in a place where you can let your kids encounter problems and work through them,” Anderson says. “The situation has to be safe enough so you can monitor without interfering unless you need to for their safety.”

This problem-solving builds confidence and skills. It’s a positive-feedback loop: kids build upon knowledge and demonstrate their responsibility, and their parents become more and more comfortable granting them independence in the outdoors.

Let Go

“Kids are a lot tougher than we think they are,” Anderson says. Trust they have learned the lessons you’re imparting, and remember that their skill building is an iterative process. It can be harrowing to watch your offspring ski down a slope solo for the first time, with plans to meet for lunch, but instead of giving in to anxiety, reframe the situation in your mind. You are giving your kid the opportunity to be independent and deal with what comes their way, even if that means getting lost and tracking down a ski patroller to help them return to their familiar meeting spot.

“If you don’t let them make choices by themselves, kids don’t get the chance to learn and to depend on themselves,” Anderson says. “The outdoors is a great classroom, and getting the chance to experience it on their own will make kids stronger—emotionally and physically.”

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Choosing a favorite among the 34 backcountry cabins managed by the of Colorado is kind of like asking a parent to pick their favorite child. Each hut in the system is named in honor a famed World War II unit that specializedÌęŸ±ČÔ mountain and arctic warfare, was built by the nonprofit organization for public use, and offers something unique. Some are big and easily accessible. Others are tiny and remote. But no matter which you choose, you’ll be rewarded with stunning views of mountain peaks or pristine forests. I’ve been going on hut trips in the Centennial State since 2000 and have a few recommendations.

The Sisters Cabin

Location: Arapahoe National Forest
·Ą±ô±đ±čČčłÙŸ±ŽÇČÔ:Ìę11,445 feet
Closest Town: Breckenridge
°äŽÇČőłÙ:Ìę$50 per person per night

°Âłó±đČÔÌęłÙłó±đ  started taking reservations in January, it became the first new hut to open on public land in Colorado in more than two decades. The 2,200-square-foot space sleeps up to 14 and has indoor composting toilets, a wood-fired sauna, epic ski terrain nearby, and unrivaled views of the Tenmile Range and Blue River Valley. But what really makes this place stand out is its style: the cabin features enormous picture windows and a modern, functional layout. Plus, the indoor composting toilets mean you can relieve yourself at midnight without having to brave the elements.

Fowler Hilliard

Location: White River National Forest
Elevation: 11,500 feet
Closest Town: Minturn
°äŽÇČőłÙ:Ìę$33 per person per night

One of the few huts with both summer and winter access, this beautiful stone and wood structure looks more like a chalet on its ridgeline perch than a rustic backcountry hut. With timberline views of some of Colorado’s highest peaks in the Elk Range and phenomenal skiing in the bowl right out the front door, it’s the rare hut where you can click in and make turns without any extra effort, meaning it’s , whether you want to be skinning laps or reading inside by the fire.

Shrine Mountain Inn

Location: White River National Forest
·Ą±ô±đ±čČčłÙŸ±ŽÇČÔ:Ìę11,209 feet
Closest Town: Vail
°äŽÇČőłÙ:Ìę$45 per person per night, plus $6 Vail Pass parking fee

Boasting the most creature comforts,  has running hot and cold water, flushing toilets, a shower and tub, and electricity. Located less than three miles from I-70, it also features one of the least rigorous approaches of all the huts. Comprised of three separate accomodations—Jay’s, Chuck’s, and Walter’s—the easy access and abundance of space make it a great first-time or family trip.

Benedict Huts: Fritz and Fabi’s

Location: White River National Forest
·Ą±ô±đ±čČčłÙŸ±ŽÇČÔ:Ìę10,970 feet
Closest Town: Aspen
Cost: $33 per person per night

Of all the reasons to recommend —their beautiful location, modern architectural style, cozy living rooms, amazing skiing—it’s the view of the Elk Mountains from the outhouse that shines brightest. But since you’re going to do more than sit on the crapper, understand this: these shelters are peaceful, set in an aspen grove, and have a sentimental legacy, having been named after Fritz and Fabi Benedict, Aspenites who helped start .

Friends Hut

Location: Gunnison National Forest
·Ą±ô±đ±čČčłÙŸ±ŽÇČÔ:Ìę11,370 feet
Closest Towns: Crested Butte and Aspen
°äŽÇČőłÙ:Ìę$22.50 per person per night

Nestled in the forest about a thousand feet below Pearl Pass, the dividing line between Aspen and Crested Butte in the Elk Mountains, this  is well worth the slog it takes to get there. After skinning almost 11 miles uphill from the Crested Butte side or braving the seven-mile approach over exposed avalanche terrain from Aspen, you won’t want to leave the intimate, eight-person abode, and not just because you’ll be tired from the approach. Friends Hut is the adult backcountry equivalent of a child’s treehouse—it’s welcoming, accessible only to those willing to work for it, and offers a refuge from the bigger, crazier world.

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As a parent who regularly exposes her offspring to wind, rain, snow, and sun, I’ve done my best to clothe them appropriately, despite my oldest son’s preference for wearing sport shorts and a T-shirt—even in a blizzard. But I had yet to find gear that kept my kids protected from getting too cold, wet, or sweaty until we tried Reima. I had long admired , a Finland-based company that makes kid-specific outerwear and clothes. I thought of it as the more rugged version of other cool European kid brands like Boden or Jacadi Paris, complete with bright, bold colors that call to mind images of Finnish storefronts in a fishing village painted red, blue, yellow, and green. So when I heard Reima was making headway into American markets, I reached out to see if it wanted some Colorado kid testers, and my boys spent the early-winter months skiing and playing outside in Reima wear.

About the Testers

Me, Rachel Walker, Age 43: I want my kids’ clothes durable, high-performing, and recognizable. I’m less concerned about fashion and more concerned with being able to pick them out of a crowd or a crowded ski slope.

Henry, Age 8: Built like an ox, Henry looks more like a 12-year-old ski racer than a geeky third-grader. He runs hot (when we ski, he lets me warm my hands on his bare stomach) and couldn’t care less about how things look. He can be sloppy, so the fewer bells and whistles (in his opinion), the better.

Silas, Age 6: A spitfire redhead who rarely stands still, Silas is a lean, muscular kid who is both particular and precise. Once he decides against something, there’s little changing his mind.

Northern Fleece Jacket ($75)

Forget everything I said about functionality. I fell in love with this for its looks.

Henry’s Take: It’s nice on windier days, but when I’m forced to wear this sweater on sunny days, it gets way too hot. I do love the pockets, because they’re big enough for a ball, my bike lock, and a few PokĂ©mon cards.

Silas’s Take: The best thing about this sweater is the zipper. It zips up and down easily. Also, it’s not scratchy, and the hood is big enough to fit over my bike helmet. (Mom’s note: no, it’s not.)

Brisk Reimatec Jacket ($170)

Hunting-jacket orange immediately appealed to me, as did the of this piece. I thought the kids would love the removable fleece liner and appreciate the combo for warm, early-season ski days. Plus, the hood is expansive and fits over both their ski and bike helmets.

Henry’s Take: This jacket is going to get me in trouble. Every time I take it apart I’m afraid I’m going to lose one of the pieces. Still, it’s great for sunny to light, breezy days.

Silas’s Take: Reima should have something stronger to snap the liner to the outer shell. It’s really frustrating that I can’t take it apart and put it back together easily. This wasn’t my favorite jacket, but it’s a good jacket to have when your mom is going to make you wear one.

Regor Reimatech Winter Jacket ($180)

The mother of all ski jackets, has been keeping the boys warm ever since our downhill season started around Thanksgiving. The seams are sealed and the waterproofing works. It’s warm, comes in colorful, eye-popping patterns, and offers a relaxed fit.

Henry’s Take: I love the wind guard on the collar, because I zip it up for chairlift rides and it helps keep me warm when the wind blows. On the downhills, sometimes I unzip the jacket all the way so I don’t get hot. I wish the pockets were bigger so I could actually fit snacks and a walkie-talkie in them.

Silas’s Take: It has a powder skirt that’s amazing, because when I fall on runs, it blocks snow going down my pants. I wish all my jackets had a powder skirt.

Takeoff Reimatech Winter Pants ($110)

Did I mention Henry is big for his age? While a lot of active eight-year-old boys are whippet thin, he’s not, and that’s made finding athletic bottoms occasionally challenging. are insulated just enough to keep him neutral to warm but not so much that he overheats. They are loose in the waist and legs but not too baggy. And the suspenders are easy to manage.

Henry’s Take: These are much more comfortable than other ski pants I’ve had, and the lining feels nice and soft. The suspenders slip too much and then fall off my shoulders, and that’s not the best. If I could, I’d fix that. Otherwise, no complaints!

Silas’s Take: My mom said these pants would be too big for me.

Trick Jeans ($75)

Everything I said about finding ski pants to fit Henry’s solid, muscular frame also applies to jeans. check every box. Plus, they’re supersoft, and they look great. Better yet, so far nothing he’s done can rip them, not even sliding around on the soccer field, falling off his bike, crawling across the blacktop on his knees (his choice, not mine), or scrambling on big rocks.

Henry’s Take: These are really nice and flexible. And the inside is so soft, like as soft as the ear on my new stuffed dog.

Silas’s Take: I don’t like jeans. I won’t wear them. I don’t care if Mom thinks they make me look cute.

Lhotse Thermal Underwear ($85)

This is the product that sent me to the measuring tape, frantically trying to figure out if I could fit into kid’s sizing. Alas I can’t, which means these artful, durable, (50/50) are out of my reach. That’s a shame, because the Lhotse elevates long johns to pajama-level cute, wool-level warm, and don’t-need-to-wash-them-for-days odorless.

Henry’s Take: They’re so soft. They don’t scratch me at all. And they feel wild because of the mountains and trees on them. I stay warm but don’t get too hot in them.

Silas’s Take: They don’t stink or itch, and the design always makes me want to go skiing. I have about seven pairs of long underwear, but I only really wear these.

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In mid-October, the American Academy of Pediatricians (APP) released its first ever for caretakers of transgender children and teenagers. The guide calls for adults to adopt a gender-affirming, nonjudgmental approach that helps trans kids feel safe in a society that often marginalizes or stigmatizes those seen as different. Even though transgender kids will face many challenges in life, the policy states, like all children, they can grow into happy and healthy adults when supported and loved throughout their development. Roughly one week later, the Trump administration announced it was considering as a biological, immutable condition determined by genitalia at birth, a move that could eliminate the term transgender and, trans rights activists say, lead to discrimination based on sex. This isn’t the first effort by the administration to undermine transgender rights. In early 2017, the Trump administration rescinded Education Department guidelines recommending that students be allowed to use facilities and pronouns consistent with their gender identity.

For trans adults, this is infuriating and, for some, a call to activism. For trans youth, this open hostility and attack on their rights could have dire impacts on their mental health and development into adulthood.

But not if Perry Cohen can help it. Cohen, founder of the , a nonprofit outdoor-education organization founded in 2014 for transgender kids that’s staffed almost entirely by transgender counselors, is creating a space where trans children can develop an indefatigable sense of themselves, a confidence that they are strong and they matter. “I don’t know a single trans or nonbinary child or adult who doesn’t feel the [political] attack directly,” says Cohen, who is also transgender. “Now we can be fired, or not hired, for being trans. We know that our government is trying to invalidate our identities.”

Cohen’s Venture Out Project and other organizations like  for trans and gender-variant youth are relying on traditional outdoor education and summer camp models to deliver an invigorating, affirming experience to trans kids. Both Cohen and Nick Teich, CEO and founder of Camp Aranu’tiq, had formative outdoor experiences in childhood that endowed them with confidence and, ultimately, contributed to each embracing his individual identity. Cohen and Teich each have transitioned to the gender they identify with. Driven by a desire to help others, they have become leaders in the outdoor education and summer camp spaces.

“It’s really important for adults who care for transgender kids to give hope and positivity in the climate we are in right now,” says Teich. “What we’re seeing now is an administration that says ‘We don’t believe you,’ ‘Get real,’ and ‘This is not who you are.’ ”

“Transgender kids are consumed with thoughts about who is going to ask them about their identity or judge them,” adds Teich. “We provide a place that is all about free play and the outdoors, where they don’t have to worry about the next person who is going to ask if they are a boy or a girl.”

Founded in 2009, Camp Aranu’tiq is a typical lake-based New England summer camp that offers activities like canoeing, archery, and rock climbing. Kids have bunkmates in rustic cabins. Campers and counselors are called by their preferred names and pronouns, they eat at communal tables, and they have no access to screens or devices.

The Venture Out Project facilitates backpacking and wilderness trips in New England and the Pacific Northwest for trans youth ages 13 to 19. The organization also coordinates day-hike meetups and a multi-day camping weekend for kids and allies, including family members and caregivers. Participants discover a supportive, physically challenging environment, and for many kids, it’s the first time in their lives that they’re with a trans community in real life. (Many transgender youth find support and friends online, says Cohen.) The combination of excelling at something hard in the outdoors, like summiting a peak or camping in a tent for the first time, with the empathetic students and staff creates an uplifting dynamic that typically manifests in increased confidence and self-acceptance, Cohen says. Although the program doesn’t explicitly explore what it means to be transgender (both Teich and Cohen emphasized that their programs are not about counseling), participants inevitably share their experiences and find comradery, advice, and the opportunity to help others like them.

“It’s really powerful to have instructors who have lived through these experiences and understand what it’s like to be misgendered,” says Cohen. “Many trans youth and adults have never been around trans folks for any extended period of time. They may have a strong online community, but to actually be in the presence of people like them is different.”

In these programs, children are not separated—into sleeping groups, cabins, or otherwise—by gender. They all receive the same messaging from the adults in charge. For example, at the Venture Out Project, all backpackers learn what to do if you “squat when you pee, or if you happen to bleed during a trip,” says Cohen. “It’s simple: if you experience this bodily function, here’s what to do.”

The programs create community and strength, something transgender youth need to endure the challenges they face. According to the AAP policy statement, transgender youth face obstacles “in nearly every social context, from lack of understanding to outright rejection, isolation, discrimination, and victimization.” One survey of nearly 28,000 transgender respondents found that among those who were out or perceived to be transgender between kindergarten and eighth grade, 54 percent were verbally harassed, 24 percent were physically assaulted, 13 percent were sexually assaulted, and 17 percent left school because of maltreatment. Education and advocacy from the medical community on the importance of safe schools for youth who identify as transgender can have a significant and positive effect.

“Every day, trans and nonbinary people wake up to have our very existence up for debate,” says Cohen. “Even kids can’t escape it. Venture Out is in no way an escape. We are an incubator. With all that is going on and the constant assault of news and information, everyone needs a place to share stories, talk about issues, and build strength to go back into the fight.”

Both Aranu’tiq and the Venture Out Project offer scholarships to make camp accessible to a diverse population of kids. And more queer- and trans-specific camps are opening every year; check out a working list of them .

The experience of attending camp or a wilderness expedition could prove transformative, say both Teich and Cohen. Results of a 2017 survey of Camp Aranu’tiq’s participants show that 92 percent felt more confident after attending Aranu’tiq, and 97 percent felt that they were part of a community afterward.

That echoes the feedback Cohen has gotten at the Venture Out Project. This summer he received a letter from a participant that said, “For the first time, I love myself not in spite of being trans, but because I’m trans.”

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Walk around the base of any downhill-mountain-bike park, and the people pedaling look like extras from the movie Batman: full-face helmets, body armor, and bikes that could withstand a typhoon. They throw themselves off steep drops and bomb down narrow trails. The totality of downhill mountain biking—the uniform, the speed, the daring—entranced my two sons, eight-year-old Henry and six-year-old Silas, this summer. We spend a lot of time in Colorado’s Winter Park, and the resort’s is always abuzz with downhillers. Over and over the kids begged to try it. Our regular old bike rides, the kind where you have to pedal uphill instead of taking a chairlift, the kind where you wear shorts and a shirt instead of a back protector and full-face helmet, were now apparently too tame for Henry and Silas.

I thought otherwise. It wasn’t the potential physical danger that gave me pause. I simply questioned the wisdom of exposing young kids to extreme sports. I couldn’t see the smartsÌęŸ±ČÔ taking a formative childhood pastime like bike riding and making it into a gear-intensive, expensive, adult(ish) thing.

There was also the issue of discovery. I still remember taking my first mountain-bike trip, to Fruita, Colorado, in 1998, when I was 23 and experiencing the profound independence and freedom that comes with exploring a new place on a fast bike with young, wild friends and nary an adult in sight. Why would I rob my kids of that formative experience by slotting them into a sport too early? But most of all, I just couldn’t shake the cynical suspicion that extreme sports for kids—there’s youth kitesurfing, rock climbing, freeride skiing, spearfishing, and Spartan Races, to name a few—were developed entirely to manipulate Gen-X and Millennial parents’ , so we’d crack open our wallets and pay for lessons and gear. Lessons? When I learned how to ride a bike, there were no lessons—unless you count face-planting on the asphalt, my banana-seat Schwinn overturned beside me, as a sort of clinic.

Meanwhile, the boys relentlessly repeated their argument: downhill mountain biking looked fun, and they wanted to try it.

I reached out to , journalist and author of , who spawned the term “nature-deficit disorder.” Specifically, he believes that kids should spend a lot more unstructured time in nature so that they develop into curious, capable humans. Surely he would think downhill mountain biking, or any extreme sport for that matter, didn’t count as quality nature time for kids, since there’s a lot of structure and stuff involved. To my surprise, Louv said he was “fine with the Millennial or Gen-X approach to extreme outdoor sports, with a few words of caution.” Specifically, Louv said that the best nature experiences for young children are those that are personal, tactile, and slow, like getting muddy, climbing a tree, or watching fish jumping for flies at a lake. Although extreme sports aren’t slow, he said, they can be personal and extremely stimulating. “Young people are more likely to be attracted to riskier outdoor adventures,” he said. They can still commune with nature, even if they’re going fast and are wearing body armor. In fact, the risk inherent in extreme sports might make some kids “more aware of their surroundings,” Louv said.

That increased awareness could well spread to other aspects of their lives, like school and home. This is a good thing, according to Angela Hanscom, a New Hampshire-based pediatric occupational therapist and founder of , a nature-based kids camp. “One of the most significant impacts of nature-deficit disorder is a decrease in attention span,” she said. This inattention has been linked to a lack of movement. Kids who are sedentary and staring at screens are not stimulating their balance or organizing their senses, she said. “Those kids tend to have trouble controlling emotions, are more easily frustrated, and struggle with hyperactivity,” Hanscom added.

Time spent playing in nature helps young kids develop their neurological systems, and they inherently seek out the stimulation they need. For instance, when kids spin until they're dizzy and fall down, that helps them organize their senses and develop their balance and brains.

Time in nature also helps kids navigate fear, and extreme sports might provide even more opportunities for that than, say, a nature walk. “When kids are able to try things that scare them, and realize they can overcome the challenges, that’s very important for their development,” Hanscom said.

Go ahead and take a downhill-mountain-bike lesson, she and Louv both advised. Just don’t make that—or any other specific sport—your kids’ sole outdoor activity. Louv and Hanscom also agreed on another point: there is no reason to have kids specializeÌęŸ±ČÔ any sport too early. Avoiding specialization safeguards against overuse injuries, and it also teaches kids the importance of being open to new experiences. As for my reluctance toÌęŸ±ČÔtroduce the kids to something I didn’t do until my twenties for fear that I’d be robbing them of the thrill of discovery? Nonsense, said Hanscom.

“It’s OK to give your child amazing experiences at an early age, and it’s formative for the brain,” she said. “Besides, you don’t know what’s going to be meaningful to them later on, and they might discover something completely different when they’re 16.” Translation: Mom, you’re not as influential as you think you are, and you’re definitely overthinking this.

At least that was my conclusion one gorgeous summer morning as I brought up the rear on my family’s group at . Our fanny-pack-toting instructor explained the importance of soft elbows and balanced feet on the pedals, and the boys descended a relatively rowdy trail that was steeper and looser than anything I’d taken them on before. Suited up, we looked like a mini motorcycle gang. All told we rode five miles and dropped almost 3,000 vertical feet. Silas loved it and charged the entire day. Henry was more visibly nervous and walked his bike down the sections that scared him. I was nearly knocked over by the unexpected joy I felt at sharing this shred with my boys.

As our family descended the mountain, I thought of something Louv told me. Scientists who study human perception no longer assume we have only five senses: taste, touch, smell, sight, and hearing. The number now ranges from a conservative ten to as many as 30. Yet most of us—kids and adults alike—exist in a predominantly digital environment that asks us to spend enormous energy blocking out many of these senses so we can focus narrowly on the screen in front of our eyes.

“That’s the very definition of being less alive,” he said. “And what parent wants their child to be less alive?”

About a month later, we were camping with a group of friends outside Aspen, Colorado, when the boys and their friends decided to build a steep downhill trail. Never mind that it was only ten feet long and dead-ended into a massive log. That trail was “totally rad” and occupied the kids’ attention for almost two days straight. They worked with their hands and worked together. And then they all hopped on their bikes to give it a go.

As I watched them bounce into the forest and squeal in delight, their vibrancy was palpable. The blood coursed through their veins and their little brains exploded with possibility as all of their interests intertwined—getting dirty, having fun on bikes, playing with rocks, being with friends. Every sense was stimulated, and then some, and as the kids flocked to the trail like icebound penguins to the sea, we all felt completely, alertly, happily alive. It was extremeÌęŸ±ČÔ the best possible way.

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Giulia Delladio is remarkably calm. It’s a Wednesday evening in May 2018 in Trento, Italy. In an hour, more than 3,000 people will converge outside the MUSE Museum of Science to celebrate the 90th anniversary of La Sportiva, the Italian outdoor footwear and apparel company. Right now, there are about 350 VIPs hobnobbing at a cocktail party, among them Reinhold Messner, mountaineers Tamara Lunger and Simone Moro, ultrarunning phenom Anton Krupicka, and climber Adam Ondra. Giulia, the woman poised to take the helm of , looks relaxed and radiant in a silk dress and black heels, a glass of sparkling water in her hand.

At 33, Giulia is six months pregnant and in line to take over as president and CEO of La Sportiva when her father, Lorenzo Delladio, retires. Though she has grown up in this company, literally living in an apartment above the original factory and “playing” at writing invoices when she was just four years old, her rise represents a massive achievement. She is the rare female to climb to the top in a male-dominated industry and she’s based in Italy, a country with a traditionally patriarchal culture.

Yet Giulia Delladio sees her ascent less as a feminist triumph and more of continuum put in motion 90 years ago by her great grandfather, a cobbler who wanted to make better boots for traveling the massive mountain passes and peaks that dominate Val di Fiemme, a verdant valley at the foot of the Dolomites.

“My mother taught me to write and read at age four because I was relentless in asking to learn,” says Gulia. “It’s been the same with working for La Sportiva. I’ve always wanted to do it, and my grandfather told me I inherited the family entrepreneurial spirit.”

There’s a saying in the family, Lavorare di piĂș!, that roughly translates into “Work harder!” It’s made sense to her for as long as she can remember. As a child, Gulia was allowed to shadow her grandfather and father in the factory and company offices as long as she made herself useful. She didn’t like kindergarten because all her classmates wanted to play; only after the teacher gave her the job of taking attendance did school become tolerable.

“Narciso [the founder of La Sportiva] wanted to be outstanding among the other shoe repairmen at the time,” says Gulia. “He changed shoes so people could enjoy the mountains—even though no one had time to enjoy the mountains then. He had a vision and could see change coming that no one else saw. I share his mindset.”

After graduating from high school at the top of her class, she attended university in Modena, where she studied economics and international marketing. Her father made her pay her own way, so summers were spent earning money as a nanny and by working at the La Sportiva company store. In her twenties, she spent two summers at La Sportiva North American headquarters in Boulder, Colorado, and nearly five years in Squamish, British Columbia, working with the climbing apparel and accessories brand, Blurr, for which La Sportiva was the European distributor.

When Giulia joined La Sportiva at its Italian headquarters about seven years ago, she quickly moved up from planning events and sales meetings to her current job as Strategic Marketing Manager. In this role, she manages everything, from guiding all product line plans—footwear, apparel, ski boots, and accessories—for future seasons to ensuring collaboration and communication between sales and marketing, and research and development.

“I consider being a woman an opportunity,” says Giulia. “I try to bring to the company alternative interpretations or different ideas. This doesn’t mean that my feelings and my opinions are more important or more useful than those of my male colleagues, but simply that mine are a different way of looking at things.”

Her impact is evident in all of the company’s products, which today sport eye-popping colors with a European flair. They weren’t always so lively. La Sportiva’s brand colors are yellow and black, and that color palette dominated before Giulia began to exercise her influence—on both women’s and men’s lines.

“As she has become more integrated in the product development, Giulia has worked closely with the designers to use more color in all of the categories to bring a much more vibrant and youthful feel to the products,” says Jonathan Lantz, president of La Sportiva North America.

But she’s not just focused on how products look. Giulia understands the technical aspects as well as the product developers do (she climbs, runs, bikes, and skis), has her own relationships with the company’s sponsored athletes who provide critical feedback during the product development phase, and is a diligent student of the outdoor market, comfortable analyzing trends and anticipating what people will want next season.

“The team knows I need the design to be perfect, even if that means moving a logo just a few centimeters,” says Giulia. “I weigh in on everything, from the color to really technical issues, and they listen to me.”

Women make up roughly half of outdoor participation in the U.S., and La Sportiva expects that sector will grow. The company spends significant time and money to develop women-specific styles and technical wear, says Giulia, and it sponsors women in every sport it’s involved in: skimo, climbing, running, and mountaineering.

That said, alpinism—past and present—still skews male. At the 90th anniversary party, there were more men than women, a reminder of alpinism’s male-dominated roots, particularly in Italy and the rest of Europe, where most alpinists acquired their skills in the military. Sexist jabs have long been a reality for many women who work and recreate in the sports in which La Sportiva trades.

Yet change is evident. More women are logging first ascents and earning the respect of their peers for athletic achievements and unimpeachable skills. Tamara Lunger, a La Sportiva-sponsored Italian ski mountaineer, earned a standing ovation at the 90th anniversary party when she recounted how she retreated from the summit of Nanga Parbat 70 meters from the top because she felt that pushing on would mean death. La Sportiva climbers Margo Hayes and Babsi Zangerl are widely recognized as some of the most accomplished climbers in climbing today. Hayes is the first woman to send a 5.15a when she crushed La Rambla in Siurana, Spain, in February 2017. And Zangerl sent her first 5.14dÌęŸ±ČÔ late May 2018, when she conquered Speed IntĂ©grale in Voralpsee, Switzerland.

Blatant misogyny is becoming intolerable in ways unthinkable even a year ago; in May this year, La Sportiva dropped climber Joe Kinder after he acknowledged using social media to bully female climbers. “Despite supporting Joe for many years and our admiration for his talent as a climber, his choices and actions on social media do not meet the standard of behavior we set for our ambassadors,” said La Sportiva in a statement.

And Gulia strives to embody those standards, which include excellence, fairness, and commitment to doing the job at hand. The daughter of Lorenzo, granddaughter of Francesco, great granddaughter of Narcisco, and the soon-to-be mother of the fifth generation, she is as much a product of La Sportiva’s innovation as she is a driver of it. When asked what she envisions for the future, Giulia recounted something her father said the night of the anniversary party: “Without dreams, an idea cannot grow.”

Her job now, she says, is to keep dreaming big.

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