Well, the trip to Yosemite with Sam happened well over a year ago now, and I'm finally getting this story posted. Sam is 5 years old now! (Time flies). We haven't attempted anything so adventurous since then (well, at least not with the Chariot; driving across the country with three kids was quite an adventure though...).
We still have the Chariot and use it quite a bit, though I don't think I've used the hiking kit since the first time in Yosemite. The Chariot is just too wide for most hiking trails, and when the trails are wider it's usually easy enough to just push the thing in jog-stroller mode. So, that experiment is over for now, until the next time I'm desperate enough to try something similarly crazy. Even without the hiking kit, I really do think that the Chariot is probably the nicest, most comfortable "outdoor kid transportation vehicle" I've seen. We have the bike trailer kit too and I intend to use that more when the weather warms up.
I've added links to each of the posts below, in order, for your convenience.
I slept only fitfully that night, paranoid that Sam was going to wake up at 2:00 am and start yelling. Finally I slept for a couple of solid hours, only to be awakened at around 6:00 am by two groups of coyotes, calling loudly to one another very close to our campsite. It was a beautiful sound, and I could tell from the chatter "next door" that it had woken up the Russians, too, but somehow Sam managed to sleep right through it. I was thankful that Sam wasn't going to wake up too early, and I thought I might even get him to sleep until the rest of our neighbors woke up. No such luck. After the coyotes stopped their howling, the Russians were wide awake and began having what I could only imagine was a joke-telling contest, talking and laughing for the next 20 minutes. They weren't all that loud, but because it was so quiet in camp and we were so close to their tent, the noise was enough to wake Sam up. "Uuuhh!" "Uuuhh!" With that, I knew that our day had started, so I quickly got dressed, grabbed Sam and put him in the car. I grabbed the bag of morning stuff from the bear box, jumped in the car, and off we drove, to where I wasn't quite sure. All I knew was that I was probably saving two dozen people from a seriously jarring wake-up call.
We drove along highway 120 and found a turnout with a nice view. We went through our morning routine here: Sam's medicine, diaper, Pediasure, and clean clothes. Here's a photo of us just as the sun came up over the ridge:
I figured we'd find someplace to get out and walk around a bit with Sam in the Chariot, but after our sunrise breakfast in the car we mostly just drove around and checked out some different side-roads and trailheads. It was still really cold, and I just wasn't up for a hike yet after not getting much sleep and not having had any coffee. So around 8:30 am we headed back to the campground, and now it was decision time. The first decision was obviously what to do today, given the results of the Chariot's trial run the day before, and the rough night we had had. The second question was what are we going to do tonight? Sam seemed to be having a good time hanging out with me and being outside, but I don't think either of us were having a great time camping at night. Sam had to be bundled from head to toe to stay warm enough, and I didn't have time or energy to enjoy the nights (e.g. no campfire) after having to make sure Sam was taken care of all day. I really wasn't looking forward to another night of trying to keep Sam quiet in the campground either. So I decided we were packing up. I wasn't sure yet where we'd end up that night, but I was done with camping, for this trip anyway.
I also decided not to try any more serious hikes with the Chariot on this trip. I was pretty well spent from the physical and mental trials of the last couple of days, and I figured we'd have more fun on our last day in Yosemite if we stuck to easier goals. So after packing up all the camping gear and somehow managing to get everything back in the car, we headed off for Yosemite Valley.
Ah, the Valley: Land of paved trails, swimming in the river, beer and pizza, and ice cream at Degnan's. Not to mention it's 4000 feet lower in elevation than our campsite, and therefore much warmer. Even post-Labor Day the Valley was packed with people, and parking was scarce. We eventually found a handicap parking spot near Happy Isles (yay Sam!), stuffed our food into a bear box, packed Sam into the Chariot (in jog-stroller mode this time), and headed out for a walk along a paved, mostly flat trail to Mirror Meadow. Here's some video of the Chariot in action:
It was a beautiful day in the Valley, and Sam and I were both happy to be out on a leisurely walk. Sam wasn't too impressed with Mirror Meadow though:
And it turns out with Sam's handicap parking placard, we could have driven there!
But then that would have kind of missed the point, eh? :)
The walk back to Happy Isles was peaceful, with Sam voicing his pleasure ("aaaaaaahhhh....") the whole way. I briefly considered trying to take the Chariot up the Nevada Falls trail, but luckily I thought better of it. Sam and I had lemonade at the snack bar instead:
That afternoon, we did some more walking around near Yosemite Lodge, and had a lazy time watching the ducks and people float by. Eventually I remembered that we were going to need a place to sleep that night, so I checked at the Lodge to see if they had any rooms available, but they were booked solid. Rather than try to find someplace to stay outside the Valley, I decided that it was time to go home. We left at around 5:00 pm and made it home just before midnight. Amazingly enough, Sam fell asleep in the car at about 10:30, finally allowing me to change the radio station to something other than kids' music!
Sam was an early riser, with no respect for the fact that it was freaking cold outside, the sun wouldn't come over the trees for another couple of hours, and I only got a few hours of fitful sleep. Except for Sam's yelling, the campground was otherwise silent, which made it clear that none of our fellow campers were crazy enough to be up yet. With the boy getting more and more obnoxious adamant about wanting to get up and eat, I came up with a plan: I jumped out of the tent, grabbed all of Sam's morning supplies (medicine, medicine droppers, Pediasure, cup, bib, diaper) out of the bear box and threw them in the car, went back to the tent and grabbed Sam and then we jumped in the car, at which point I started up the engine, turned the heater on full blast, and pumped some Raffi over the sound system. Sam sat on my lap and had his medicine and breakfast. Eventually we thawed.
Around 8:30 or so it was warm enough to venture back into the real world. It was still cold, so I put Sam back in his sleeping bag while I made my own breakfast and started getting organized for the day. Finally around 9:30 am the sun broke through the trees and I was able to find a sunny spot for Sam and his stroller:
This was going to be a big day, the first real trial of the Chariot: I planned to try hiking to an alpine lake with Sam in tow. Elizabeth Lake in Tuolumne Meadows is reached via a short (2.3 miles), highly-used trail, so I hoped that it would be wide enough to accommodate the Chariot. It also had the benefit of being relatively short, not too steep, and having a nice reward of beautiful scenery at the end. Of course, I had never hiked it myself, so there was no way of knowing what the trail was really like. Only one way to find out....
We arrived at the trailhead around 11:00 a.m. By this time, I had everything pretty well organized, so there wasn't much left to do but put Sam in the Chariot, strap it to my back and start hiking. After getting all set up we had a nice chat with some folks who had had just enough Bud Light that morning to think that the Chariot was the most brilliant idea they'd ever seen. Heartened by these lovely people, Sam and I set off.
Reality hit me upside the head almost immediately. Although the overall profile of our chosen trail was relatively mellow, the first few hundred yards turned out to be a boulder field set on a 20-degree slope. It was tough going to say the least; although the trail was plenty wide, there were few paths through the rocks that the Chariot could easily navigate. The Chariot's 20" wheels allowed me to pull it directly over many of the rocks, but the low clearance was causing it to get hung up every few feet, and the steepness of the slope meant that I had to lean forward with all my might lest Sam and I both go tumbling down the hill. This was something I hadn't really planned for — my optimistic mind had been remembering these popular Yosemite trails as being steep sometimes, but usually mostly dirt and duff, not so rocky.
Somehow I pressed on despite the sheer physical difficulty and increasing absurdity of the endeavor. I probably only continued out of stubbornness and a desire to avoid a bruised ego — I mean, I had spent weeks researching ways to go hiking with Sam, hundreds of dollars on equipment and supplies for the trip, and at least a half an hour training for this hike. No way was I going to let a little boulder field stand in the way of me and glory Sam having a pleasant hike. I also figured that given the trail's profile in the guidebook, it would likely get easier the farther we went.
Eventually, the trail did mellow a bit, to the point where I could actually take more than three steps without having to free the Chariot from being hung up on rocks. Feeling jaunty now — Ha! I have defeated the evil boulder field! Sam and I shall continue on to victory! — I had the presence of mind to capture some video of us on the trail (Flash Player required):
Doesn't look too bad, huh? It really wasn't, at least at that stage. Every 25 yards or so we'd come to an obstacle (big rocks too close together, a tree across the trail, etc.) that I'd have to maneuver around, which made our progress rather slow. But physically it wasn't too hard, which is saying a lot considering we're talking about me (a guy who's spent the last 10 years sitting on a couch or in front of the computer) pulling a 60 pound kid/trailer combo up a steep hill at 9,000 feet. I was in good spirits at this point, convinced that the worst was behind us and we'd cruise up to Elizabeth Lake by early afternoon.
Unfortunately, Sam wasn't enjoying it as much as I was. He was starting to complain from "the back seat," and the farther we went the more he complained with louder and louder yells of dissatisfaction. I think the trail was so rough that he was really getting tossed around in the Chariot (despite me trying to cushion his ride as much as possible by tweaking the Chariot's suspension), and it took me longer than it should have to realize that the scraping sound I was hearing as we passed over big rocks was caused by Sam's little butt, suspended in the Chariot's seat, which happens to be the lowest point of clearance.
Poor kid! Bad Daddy! Eventually we came to another obstacle:
The photo doesn't do it justice, but this rock was about two feet high, with no way to detour around it. I knew I could get the Chariot over this thing, but by now Sam had just about had all he could take:
"Argh! I can't take any more!"
So I decided that the first hiking experiment would have to end here. I think we had come almost a mile at this point, hiking for maybe an hour including all the stops for video, maneuvering the Chariot around obstacles, feeding Sam, etc. Not too bad.
For the return hike to the car, I converted the chariot back to jog-stroller mode, and the walk down the hill was quite easy:
Once we got down Sam was still pretty cranky from the bumpy ride so I decided we were done with hiking for the day. It was beautiful and warm out, so we drove over to Tenaya lake and lounged for the better part of the afternoon.
Sam dipped his feet in the lake:
So did Daddy:
Back at camp, we had an early dinner and then relaxed together while we waited for the temperature to drop enough to force us into the tent. Sam was getting kind of noisy, doing his usual loud moaning and occasional yelling, probably because he was tired from the long day. This presented the problem that I had most dreaded: what to do with a very noisy Sam in a very quiet campground. It was Friday night now, and our lonely corner of the big campground was now starting to fill up with people newly arrived for the weekend. For the time being, I let Sam listen to his iPod, which quieted him some.
Eventually a couple pulled into the site next to us, and unfortunately set up their tent just 20 yards from ours. This was going to be a problem.
Anyone who knows Sam knows that while he doesn't talk in the usual sense, he certainly has his own "language", and he vocalizes using a unique vocabulary of moans, grunts, and yells. Here's a brief dictionary of some of his most common words and phrases, listed in order of increasing volume:
"aaaaaaaaahhh..." : I'm generally happy and content
"AaahhhAAaahhhAAaahhhh..." : I'm tired and trying to keep myself awake
"AAAAAAH. AAAAH!" : I'm annoyed, or possibly highly amused.
"Uuhh! Uuhh! Uuhh!" : I'm hungry, thirsty, bored, or otherwise need attention. Ignore me at your own peril.
"UUUUHHHHHH!!! UUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHH!!! UUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHAAAAHHHHH......!!!!" : That's it, no more Mr. Nice Guy! Your life will be a living hell until you satisfy my every desire!
We've come to recognize these cues from Sam, but the sounds he makes and his usual volume level can be pretty disturbing, especially for people who haven't had the chance to meet Sam and get a sense for where these sounds come from. The problem is magnified greatly when you really need some peace and quiet, or when the surroundings are relatively quiet, like when you're in a campground surrounded by other people who were expecting to spend a nice weekend listening to the wind blowing through the pines.
So as darkness fell, with neighbors moving in on all sides of us, and nowhere more isolated to move to, I realized that I was going to need a plan for dealing with Sam and his noise. I didn't think it would be fair for the other campers to have to endure Sam's yelling in the middle of the night or early in the morning.
The first thing I did was prepare for the morning. I packed all of our morning supplies and food into a single bag and put it in the bear box. I packed the Chariot in the car, and put all of the other camping gear away.
To deal with the coming night, I decided to try to get Sam to sleep earlier than usual, in the hope that he'd go to sleep before his nighttime noisiness became an issue for our new neighbors. I got Sam into the tent and all ready for bed by around 6:30 pm, and stayed with him, trying to calm him in various ways so that he'd go to sleep. Despite trying his iPod, singing to him, and holding him, Sam didn't go to sleep until around 8:00 pm. During that hour and a half, he made a lot of noise at various volume levels, some quite loud. I can only imagine what the other campers were thinking about the strange noise coming from inside our tent! It quickly became apparent that our closest neighbors, the couple with their tent pitched 20 yards away, were quite aware of Sam's noise, and a few times the man actually started yelling back at Sam! The only problem was that I could overhear their conversation, and it was all in a foreign language that I assumed was Russian. So I was faced with a choice -- go outside (in the freezing cold) and try to explain to this guy, who apparently didn't speak English, about Sam and that he might be noisy for a while and maybe you want to move your tent, or stay with Sam and not have to "reset" the process of trying to get him to sleep. I opted for the latter, and thankfully the Russians left us alone and Sam finally went to sleep.
A week and a half later (Thursday, 9/21/06), Sam and I were up at the crack of dawn, on the road, headed for Tuolumne Meadows. Mindy, Jackson, and Clara had left the day before to spend the weekend in Santa Cruz. Sam and I had plans to be away Thursday through Sunday. I figured my little Honda Civic wouldn't be big enough to pack all of the stuff Sam and I would need, so I had rented a small SUV for the trip. Well, turns out a small SUV wasn't really big enough either! Two strollers, sleeping bags and warm blankets, extra pillows to keep Sam from rolling around too much at night, ice chest, firewood, apnea monitor (w/ extension cord), backpacks, three cases of beer, etc. etc. Poor Sam occupied a tiny cavity I managed to carve out for him in the back seat, amongst the camping gear and stroller parts. It was comical, I wish I had taken a picture.
We stopped a few times to stretch, feed Sam, and do some last minute shopping, but mostly the car ride went really well. It could have been a lot worse, but luckily the rental car came with Sirius satellite radio. I found a kids' music station that Sam really liked, and that kept him happy during the long trip. Unfortunately, that ended up being the only station out of the 100+ available that we listened to all weekend. All of my attempts to change the station to something more my style were met with loud protests from the back seat. Sigh. Oh well, happy Sam = happy Daddy, I guess.
We finally arrived at Porcupine Flat campground around 2:30 pm. I chose the most isolated campsite I could find, because I was worried that Sam's apnea monitor and general noisiness would bother other campers at night. Here's Sam relaxing while I set up camp (and the Chariot and the overstuffed Ford Escape in the background):
I got everything set up, and we spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the campground and goofing off. After dinner I was trying to get a campfire started, when I suddenly realized holy crap it's cold! The sun had gone down and the temperature dropped so fast it took me by surprise. It was at this point that I realized just how under-prepared I was for cold weather. I don't know why, but somehow while packing I failed to realize that late September at 8,100 feet might be a little chilly. (In hindsight, it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because there's no way I could have fit any more warm clothes in the car.) So I whisked Sam off to the tent, and bundled him up in pajamas, a sweatshirt, sweatpants, socks on his hands and feet, and a wool hat. I stuffed him into a sleeping bag, figuring he'd be warm enough, and luckily he was so tired that he went to sleep pretty quickly. Poor kid was an ice cube by the time I went to bed a few hours later.
Yosemite Sam, Part 3 — First Impressions of the Chariot
As soon as it arrived, I put the Chariot together and attached the hiking kit. That afternoon me, Jackson, and Sam all headed out for a shakedown hike. I made Jackson do the pulling:
What? A kid needs exercise, right? Kidding, only kidding. We wandered through the neighborhood and along some hilly fire roads, and by the time we got home I had a pretty good idea of how the hiking kit would work out. Not bad, not bad at all. At least on the wide sidewalks and relatively smooth dirt paths. Going up steep hills was hard work, but it felt easier than carrying a 50-pound pack. The Chariot specs say that it weighs 27 lbs., so with 30-pound Sam riding in it, it probably weighed close to 60. Didn't really notice the weight much though. Pulling the thing took some getting used to as well, but by the end of the walk I was getting the hang of it.
Most importantly, Sam seemed to be really comfortable riding in the Chariot. The seat and harness fit him like a glove, and he happily rode along, quietly "talking" and enjoying the ride. Over the next several days, we had fun trying out the jogging kit and the bike trailer kit, too. All worked as advertised. Here's more of my initial impressions:
Excellent build quality. The Chariot feels rugged and well built. Materials seem durable.
The attachments -- jogging, bike trailer, and hiking -- are all well designed and very easy to interchange. The fact that the bike trailer arm and jogging kit both store on the Chariot itself is a nice touch, and very convenient.
It's really wide, several inches wider than our other jog stroller. Because the Chariot also serves as a bike trailer, it probably has to be fairly wide for stability, but the width made me concerned about how well it would work on trails.
So, with the Chariot purchased and a few trial runs behind us, there wasn't anything left to do but plan a trip so that we could try the system out on some real trails. Oh sure, I could have found some local trails to try it on, but where's the fun in that? I started planning a trip to Yosemite.
I began to envision a rickshaw-like vehicle that Sam could sit in and I could pull along behind me. The design I had in mind would have a single wheel, kind of like a wheelbarrow if you pulled it instead of pushed it. A single wheel would make it more maneuverable and less likely to get hung up on rocks and roots, and would also mean that the rickshaw's width wouldn't be an issue on "single-track" trails. I figured the handles of the rickshaw could attach to me with a sturdy waist belt, like one used on an external-frame backpack, but I wasn't sure if that would make it stable enough.
I started searching the internet for a vehicle like the one I had in mind. At the same time, I also searched specifically for devices meant for transporting disabled people on trails. There are all kinds of contraptions made to improve the mobility of people with disabilities, so I figured there had to be something out there. It wasn't long before I found a few references to the TrailRider:
The TrailRider is a custom setup created by someone associated with The Disability Foundation and The British Columbia Mobility Opportunities Society. It's clearly big enough for an adult passenger and thus requires two people, one on either end, to support it and keep it moving. It does have the single-wheel design that I had in mind though, so that made me think I was at least on the right track. Unfortunately, that was really the only vehicle I found in my searches that was specifically designed for the task of backcountry travel. (More about the TrailRider here and here.)
I began to think that I might have to either build something myself or talk to a jog stroller/bike trailer company about commissioning a prototype. At that point I came across a particular jog stroller with some unique features. Specifically, I found this:
In short, it's a jog stroller/bike trailer type cart, but with a "Hiking Kit" attachment that looks like a shoulder harness attached to long rickshaw-like handles.
I investigated. The "stroller" with the optional hiking kit is made by Chariot Carriers. The more I read, the more the gearhead in me started to salivate. On paper, these things are nice. One Chariot transforms into multiple devices with the easy configuration of various attachments. It's a jog stroller, a bike trailer, and yes, a rickshaw for hiking or cross-county skiing. (Chariot Carriers makes a few different models. I considered the "Cougar" and the "CX". They both can use the same attachments, so I'll just refer to them generically as "Chariots".)
Besides the slick attachment system, the Chariots have other really nice features that are either not found on other "strollers" or are just done much better. Adjustable leaf-spring suspension. 20" wheels (with aero rims). Drum brakes. Nifty ventilation designs. The list goes on.
At this point, there was a disgusting puddle of drool on my keyboard, but I still had serious questions about whether a Chariot would really work for what I wanted to do. The problems I could foresee mostly resulted from the two-wheel design. It seemed pretty wide from the photos and specs, and there didn't seem to be much ground clearance. That didn't bode well for serious hikes. There was also the huge question of whether Sam would be comfortable in it.
In then end, I decided that the only way to know if it would work or not would be to try it. As expensive as the Chariots are, the cost of one would be much less than the cost of me trying to design and build one myself, and the ease of buying one online meant near-instant gratification. So, a few days and several hundred dollars later, I was the proud owner of a Chariot Carriers CX-1, complete with the jogging kit, the bike trailer attachment, and yes, the hiking kit.
Me: "So how would you feel about me going to Yosemite for a long weekend?" Wife: "You can go anywhere you want, as long as you take Sam."
Suuure, take Sam to Yosemite with me. An absurd idea (as absurd as me leaving Mindy with all three kids for four days, I guess), so of course I took it as a challenge. Then my mind quickly jumped from "I'll take Sam camping" to "I'm gonna figure out a way to get Sam into the backcountry with me." Oh boy....
[For anyone reading this who doesn't know Sam, he's our sweet, lovable, but severely disabled three-year-old boy. He doesn't walk, can't sit up on his own, can't feed himself, doesn't talk, is prone to apnea, and has a host of other medical and non-medical issues that make his day-to-day care a big physical and emotional challenge. Taking him away from home for any length of time is usually a pretty big undertaking, so that's why a camping and hiking trip with him seemed so outlandish. We have two other kids: Jackson is 6, and Clara is 3 months. I knew that leaving Mindy with all three of them for any longer than a work day was probably out of the question. But hey, can't hurt to ask, right? More about Sam and the rest our family on Mindy's blog.]
So setting aside the Yosemite trip idea, I started thinking up schemes to somehow tote Sam along on some real hikes. Just think... — I started hearing the voice of a madman in my brain — ...solve this little problem and you'll be able to get out every weekend! Week-long backpacking trips in the Sierras! Trekking in Nepal! Freedom, sweet freedom! Yes!
Ahem. Anyway, I quickly came up with two obvious options:
I nixed the backpack idea pretty quickly, mostly because with Sam's low muscle tone, I thought it would be too hard on him to bounce around on my back for long periods of time, having to keep his head up. And Sam weighs 30 lbs. now, so his weight plus the pack plus our food and gear for a climb up Kilimanjaro day's hike and I'd likely have close to 50 lbs. on my back. Not terrible, but not ideal either. I'm also not a big fan of people puking on my neck. Kids, always looking for new and interesting ways to throw up on you.
The jog stroller idea didn't thrill me either, for a variety of reasons. We currently have a nice jog stroller that we paid way too much money for, and Sam doesn't do well in it at all. It's just not supportive or adjustable enough to make him comfortable for any length of time. Of course there are dozens of jog strollers on the market, so I'm sure that I could find one better suited for him. But jog strollers become pretty hard to push when the going gets steep, or sandy. That got me to thinking though — when I'm pushing a kid in a stroller across some sand, like at the beach or the park, I often turn the stroller around and pull it. Much easier that way. I wondered if there was some kind of contraption I could put Sam in and pull over rough terrain. Hmmm....
