Adventure Buddies

By: Neil Amonson

By KAVU

September 9^th, 2025

With summer winding down, I felt the pull to squeeze in another “slumber party” under the stars with the kids. A quick glance at the forecast, a cleared calendar, and a pile of camping gear later—we were ready. The beauty of this spot is how close it is: you can leave after dinner and still be home in time for breakfast. No excuses not to go. We loaded the plane, co-pilot Walter and passenger Gemma buckled in, and we flew west.

Twenty-five minutes later we touched down on a quiet stretch of BLM land outside Salt Lake City. The kids are finally old enough to help with things, so setting up camp feels like teamwork. I climbed back into the plane to hand out bags while Walter carefully stacked them on the ground. A small thing, but moments like that remind me how quickly he’s growing—and how much easier he makes my job.

Parenting gives you fleeting glimpses of the future—little flashes of who your kids might become. When I saw this photo of Walter, I could already picture the high school or college version of him emerging. It’s exciting and a little terrifying. Everyone warns you they grow up fast, and they’re right.

As the sun slid down, we broke out snacks and watched the sky turn into a watercolor masterpiece. A good reminder:

The best sunsets require no extras.

Few things are more cute than watching a two-year-old in socks and pajamas bust out desert dance moves. I hope Gemma never loses that goofy, confident, carefree part of her spirit—it’s pure magic.

We also experimented by bringing Walter’s new mountain bike along. The ground was just soft enough to swallow his big tires, so probably not worth hauling next time. Still, he found a few firm patches and rode with all the joy I remember from my own teenage years. Mountain biking was my first love—it shaped jobs, friendships, even competitive racing. Maybe he’ll catch the same bug.

The night was calm and cool, perfect for sleeping.

At sunrise I slipped out with my camera. Anyone who loves photography knows the golden hour is irresistible when you’re camping—it’s impossible to sleep through. Soon enough, two little shadows (the kids) appeared at my side. With nothing taller than a bush in sight, I was easy to find. They followed me around, giggling, while I snapped photos in the quiet morning light.

After our impromptu photo adventure, we piled back into the tent for morning snuggles. That felt like the perfect moment for a classic dad trick: pretending to snap a photo but secretly taking a video. Proof for Mom that she’s missing out on maximum cuteness by skipping our “roughing it” trips.

Primitive camping means no electricity, no running water, and best of all—no people.

We packed up, climbed back in the plane, and flew to Skydive Utah so I could squeeze in a few jumps before heading home. Ten minutes in the air was all it took for Walter—barely able to see over the panel—to hold heading and wings level better than some licensed pilots I’ve flown with.

Someday, I hope both kids let me teach them to fly. These little missions may be short, but they’re priceless. At home, they want screens and snacks. Out here, they dig in the dirt for hours. It’s proof that kids are still kids if you just give them the space. I know one day they might be “too cool” to join me, but until then, I’ll cherish every trip, every laugh, and every minute I still get to call them my adventure buddies.