08/15/2026
Every year I try to get a few of our students out into God's creation for a backpacking trip. This year it was Quentin, Malachi, Bella, Mike, and me.
Our original destination was the Trinity Alps National Forest. Unfortunately, after checking the weather, we discovered that 3,000 feet of elevation still feels suspiciously like Chico in August. So we changed plans and headed for California's Lost Coast instead.
Excellent decision.
We started at the Needle Rock Visitor Center in Sinkyone Wilderness State Park and hiked south. Out and back, in total we traveled 21 miles and climbing just over 3,600 feet along the way. It was rugged, beautiful, occasionally exhausting, and exactly the kind of adventure we were looking for.
The temperatures stayed between about 52 and 70 degrees, which, if you've spent any time in Chico lately, sounds almost fictional.
The views were unbelievable. Black sand beaches with nobody else around. Towering Redwood forests. Roosevelt elk wandering through the meadows. Sea lions barking offshore. Seals. Sea otters. Every time we rounded another corner it looked like someone had designed the scenery specifically to make us stop and stare.
The students did fantastic.
Now... about the food.
Before we left, I carefully inspected everyone's backpacks to make sure they weren't carrying unnecessary weight.
What I neglected to inspect was what they had actually packed for food. Apparently Mario decided to reconnect with his Marine roots and sent each student with an MRE—a Meal Ready to Eat.
If you've never backpacked before, that's like entering the Tour de France on a unicycle.
Backpacking meals are normally freeze-dried. Add boiling water, wait a few minutes, and you have hardy dinner that was easy to carry in.
An MRE, on the other hand, was designed for soldiers, not backpackers. It's already cooked. It's durable enough to survive the apocalypse. And it weighs about as much as a small appliance.
Somehow every student packed one.
What a cool way to talk about life.
I handed everyone the contents of an MRE and asked, "Is this heavy?"
Every one of them answered, "No."
Then I asked, "Would it be heavy if you had to carry it for twenty miles?"
Suddenly the answer changed.
That led us into one of the best conversations of the trip.
Sometimes the things we carry are physical.
Most of the time they aren't.
The heaviest things we carry in life? The expectations of other. Fear. Pressure to fit in. Trying to make everybody happy. Worrying about the future. Teenagers carry those things every single day, and honestly, adults aren't much better.
The weight isn't always obvious when you first pick it up. But after enough miles, even small burdens become exhausting.
One of the gifts of backpacking is that life gets wonderfully simple. Eat. Walk. Filter water. Find camp. Repeat.
When the distractions disappear, it becomes easier to notice what you've really been carrying—and to remember that Jesus keeps inviting us to lay those burdens down.
That's one of the reasons I love taking students into the wilderness.
Sure, they learn how to pitch a tent, cook dinner, and survive without Wi-Fi for three whole days. (Miraculously, everyone survived.)
But more importantly, they discover something about themselves. They experience God's creation in a way that's hard to describe until you've stood on an empty black sand beach with nothing but the sound of waves and wind.
By the end of the trip, everyone was already talking about next year.
Even better, everyone wants to bring a friend.
Thank you to everyone who helped make this trip possible. Your generosity gave these students more than a backpacking adventure. It gave them space to laugh, grow, wrestle with meaningful conversations, and experience the goodness of God's creation.
That's a pretty good investment.
Next year...I'm checking the food first.
