June 17, 2002

Bonding time

Section: IN LIFE/OUR GENERATION
Page: B1
Author: Kate Carpenter / University
Illustration: 2 Color Photos
Caption: 1. Kate Carpenter and her father spent six days paddling the Bowron Lake Park Canoe Circuit, a series of lakes and rivers in northern British Columbia. Five other fathers and their teenagers were also on the trip. Photos courtesy of Kate Carpenter

2. Below, Kate and her dad, Norm Carpenter, weigh their gear before loading the canoe.

Think about your dad for a moment. What do you know about him? Maybe you know that he likes to mess with cars or work in the wood shop. Maybe you know that his favorite cookies are oatmeal-raisin or even that his favorite music is not your favorite.

But do you really know anything about him at all? Do you have any idea what he thinks about when he's quiet? Do you know what makes his day or what gets him down? Is it hard for you to imagine that he still has dreams for his life? Is he a person to you at all? Or is he just a dad -- a guy you know about as well as your bus driver or dentist?
I spent a week last summer on a canoe trip with my dad, along with five other fathers and their high school-aged kids. We saw amazing sights in the Canadian wilderness -- somber, glacier-topped mountains, a moose nursing its calf, lakes untouched by any sound but our paddles hitting the water and roaring waterfalls plunging over rocks and cliffs.

We all had so much fun around campfires, playing in the sand and water and mud, learning card games, making fun of my singing, watching a couple of the guys play wilderness golf, and even having beach sumo wrestling competitions. We laughed at sorry attempts to build fires, played with leeches and worked together to build a metropolis of plastic tarps over our campsites.

But for me, nothing was more valuable than the times spent getting to know my dad, not as an authority figure with a generation gap between us. We were a team and we were friends. We talked about everything; from the funniest movies we had ever seen to where King Solomon went wrong. We laughed when I splashed him with the water off my paddle, and we gazed, awestruck, at the sights that made us feel so small in our little canoes.

Our adventures brought us closer together, as well. We shared frustration as we struggled to keep "Tippy," our appropriately named canoe, upright along bumpy trails. We laughed when my dad's shoe vanished into a puddle of muck. We hunted blue herons with our camera. He teased me for being so motivated by the thought of food that I would try to double our speed as we neared camp.

We talked to our friends as we paddled near them across lakes and down rivers. We shoved our way through prickly bushes only to learn that we could have taken a path.

When we came back home, I hadn't changed phenomenally. I had changed a little, though -- enough that I see my dad in a new way. But I also learned something sad. When I told friends about my trip, I heard one particular answer a couple of times: "Wow. I couldn't stand to be around my dad that much for a week. It would drive me nuts." Most of them laughed at my reply to their exclamation, and I don't think they really believed me. But I'll say it again, because it's true: If you only see your father as your "old man," you are probably missing out on meeting a singularly awesome person.

Get to know your dad. I did. Trust me, even if his music is a little outdated, you won't meet many better friends than him.