My dad’s life is defined by hard work—an intense blue-collar job that demands physical strength and patience at all hours, often from midnight to 3pm on weekdays. He is the epitome of reliability, often taken for granted by those who depend on him. He calls himself a regular guy. (If only he knew.)
With only seven days of vacation each year, my dad chooses to spend every single one of them backpacking. This tradition began long before I was born. He hiked the Pacific Crest Trail in sections over 32 years as he only had the seven-day window each time. I started joining him 21 years ago, when I was only 6 and he often carried me on his shoulders. More recently my older brother has come along too.
Paper maps
When I was younger, I always knew our trip was soon when my dad spread his favorite backpacking books and paper maps across our 12-foot dining room table. He’s always done this, from the time I could read “OREGON ROAD MAP” to now, trying to help decide where we go based on the descriptions written. Despite the technology available for finding trails and navigating trips, he prefers to note the perfect routes with paper and pencil.
Rather than downloading maps and descriptions of the trail onto his phone, he prints them out and brings them in a plastic baggie to protect them from rain.
He reads the guidebooks aloud whenever we are waiting for our dinner to re-hydrate. He likes to read the description of the next day’s trail: its difficulty, the terrain, or the plants we’re likely to encounter.
Our trips are filled with nonstop laughter, deep conversations and telling each other which Mountain House meal we’re gonna have for dinner that night. On our last seven-day trip to the Wallowa Mountains in eastern Oregon, we dove into the mysteries of the universe and its vastness.
Silence of the outdoors
My father thrives in the silence of the outdoors. He cherishes it, truly, whether he’s quietly observing the world around him or listening to the earth shift beneath our boots as we trek up a switchback.
On the last night of the Wallowa trip, I caught him standing alone, gazing up in silent contemplation and awe. He was soaking in the beauty of the Wallowas one last time before we had to trek to the car the next morning. It made my heart ache. In the countless times he has observed vast deserts, craters, forests, mountains of sheet rock and wildflowers, he never can get enough. He is always just as grateful as he was when he had started backpacking.
Last fall, as we wrapped up our trip, I noticed something that I wasn’t expecting. My dad’s beard, once sandy blonde, has now turned gray and white. This subtle change made my heart hurt. It’s easy to forget that our parents are navigating life, just like we are. Growing up, we often see them as superhero figures. Yet they too are experiencing, learning and discovering alongside us. Just as I find joy in exploring new things with my friends, they’re still discovering things, but sharing those experiences with us, their children.
Seeing his white beard now is a stark reminder of how quickly time passes. As my dad has gotten older, I have realized how precious the time I have with him is. Each summer spent backpacking with my dad is a precious gift, one that I treasure deeply.
Earlier this week, I got a text from him. No emojis, no context—just: “August 11-17, 2025!”
No explanation was needed. I saved the dates in my busy calendar and started counting down the days until our next switchback together.
Gear Up Like Greg
Name: Greg Wayt
REI Co-op Member since: 1999
Home store: Eugene, Oregon
My dad is a creature of habit, rarely deviating from his routine unless REI introduces a new ultralight tent or anti-gravity water filtration system. Here are three pieces of gear he always brings with him.
Therm-a-Rest (3/4 length) sleeping pad. He has had this since his first backpacking trip in 1996. My brother and I both have newer ones, but no matter what he LOVES his Therm-a-Rest.
White waffle REI Co-op lightweight long sleeve. He also purchased this for his first trip ever and has never once gone on a trip without it. It is grayish now, but he has never replaced it.
REI Co-op insulated mug. I find it amusing that this mug is now classified as “vintage” (sold secondhand).