The Literally Rocky Teen Path to Independence

Understanding that as children grow into teens, one of the primary responsibilities of parents is to encourage their independence is a concept I'm okay with... except when it involves mountain lions. And bears. And rappel hooks. And shot guns.

In the popular parenting guide The Wonder of Boys, author Michael Gurion addresses the path from boyhood to manhood, identifying rituals and releases that facilitate a successful transition. Some of Gurion's theories seem extreme and even distasteful, but at an elemental level his main precept is appealing. Parents and communities need to provide a signposted journey to allow teens to explore their growing independence in a context that provides supportive skills and values.

In this spirit, my 13 year old son Andy is going to a high adventure scout camp in the Rocky Mountains this summer. Encouraging this level of independence sounded like a fine idea last year when the reality of the trip was on the distant horizon. Now that the trip is less than two months away, I long for the days when going to the neighborhood playground was all the adventure Andy needed, when independence meant walking up the street to a friend's house without Mom at his side.

Back in the fall, when my husband announced that he was in no condition to sign on to this trip himself, I should have seen the alert signs. Spiritual guide analogies aside, there's a reason for boys to undertake rites of passage like this with dads at their sides, two actually: the dads serve as brake pedals for the increasingly independent and intrepid teens and as security blankets for their safety-conscious moms. But the trip was so far in the future then...

And now, it's right around the corner. The scout camp sent home a 56 page brochure detailing what Andy might experience on this mountain of terror during his journey toward independence. By page 20, I had to stop reading to avoid a panic attack.

Dizzying Heights for Soaring.. or Falling

In theory, a mountain is a wonderful locale for soaring, for contemplating the forces of nature and for challenging the human body. A mountain could be an ideal locale for building independence.

In reality, since I am afraid of heights, mountains make me edgy regardless of what one is doing there. A pathway whose width barely permits passage, terrain dramatically descending straight down beneath it, triggers deep-seated fear of falling. This fear does not keep me away from mountains altogether, but it does take me about a week to quell the panic of being in the mountains. With my son going off in the mountains without me, I am desperately in need of tools for grounding my imagination lest it run amok the duration of his trip.

The mountains present other risks besides falling. Up to 35% less oxygen in the lungs at 20,000 feet leads to labored breathing, potential dizziness. I remember this from the Saas Fee Glacier in Switzerland. A horribly disconcerting feeling. But that was me. I am much more comfortable with the idea that I might experience mountain sickness than I am contemplating my son, thousands of miles from home and family, overcome by it. The treatment for mountain sickness is to decrease elevation, not the easiest task to accomplish on a group outing in a remote location. And dizzy is not the ideal adjective to experience while exploring some treacherous precipice at 20,000 feet.

Beware of the Mountain Lions

But in 20 pages of reading, I was able to put thoughts of Andy falling off the mountain or succumbing to mountain sickness behind me. That's because the mountain itself is the least of my worries, apparently. The risk of his getting eaten by bears or mauled by mountain lions has trumped my fear of his falling off the mountain.

If he survives the mountain lions and bears, I can refocus my worry on his being trampled by a horse. Or thrown from one. Who, I ask you, takes a bunch of teens who are not experienced equestrians horseback riding on a mountain? The same folks, apparently, who take them mountain bike riding on a mountain. Isn't clambering up and down steep trails on foot with a group of rambunctious teens risky enough?

How many risks does a boy need to take to build a sense of independence?

A New Definition of Fun

It's beginning to feel like these folks at the scout camp are looking for ways to create death-inviting experiences for the teens and concomitantly traumatize their poor mothers. I suspect that that's why they've also suggested rappelling and shooting rifles and shotguns- for "fun."

As if all this isn't enough, the teens have to carry gas canisters with them for the camp stoves. Gas canisters that apparently ignite more readily in the thin air of the high alpine environment than at sea level. Gas canisters that explode if accidentally heated.

Lightning Strikes

Even the weather is in on this conspiracy. Every day, just in case those teens are disenchanted with their current odds of being struck by lightning down here at sea level, they will endure an afternoon thunderstorm atop the mountain. Lightning is a natural phenomenon that terrifies me- even when I am in my bed burrowing under a comforter so I don't have to look at it. Lightning atop a mountain? My cowardly self would die of fright before the lightning got its chance to do me in.

Facing down lightning on a mountain top is one odd way to develop independent living skills.

What Else?

This trip hasn't even started and already I am holding my breath, praying for its safe conclusion. And I'm only on page 20 of the camp brochure that is mandatory reading for parents. The boy scout camp has 36 additional pages of terror I must experience in my imagination before Andy starts up that mountain. With all the dangers they crammed into the first 20 pages, I shudder at what the next 36 pages might reveal:

Scorpions? Rockslides? Avalances? Dead end trails? Quicksand?

Although I will not be on that mountain, we are making this journey together, my son and I.