The weekend of September 20, 2025, we loaded up after work and school and headed north for a simple guys weekend at Mauthe Lake State Park. Nothing fancy. Just me, my 8-year-old son, and my girlfriend’s 8-year-old son. A couple hammocks, some food, and a plan to let the weekend unfold.
Thank you for reading this post, don't forget to subscribe!We rolled into camp Friday afternoon and moved fast to get everything set up before losing daylight. Canopy up. Hammocks hung. Fire ring ready.
I had made a set of custom spreader bars so the boys could hang side-by-side under the same tarp. They’re as close as brothers, and sharing that space just felt right.
Once camp was settled, dinner started, the fire got lit, and the pace dropped immediately. The boys played with their toys like they always do, and I just sat back and watched camp come alive. That first night had that familiar feeling — the rush is over, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
Saturday: Cool Air, Long Miles, and Dirt Under Fingernails
Saturday morning came early, wrapped in cool autumn air. I got breakfast going while the boys warmed up at the picnic table, and I built up a fire to take the edge off the chill. As soon as they were warm and fed, they were gone — wandering the campsite, pushing through brush, collecting sticks, checking out bugs.
Before long, they were back at camp digging a hole in the dirt, turning it into a full-blown dinosaur excavation site. No instructions needed. Just imagination and time.
A little before lunch, we got ready for a longer hike — about three miles in total. The route took us down the mountain, through the campground, into the swamp and cattails, over the river, through a red pine forest, and around the far side of Mauthe Lake. We crossed back through another section of swamp and over the river again before stopping at the playground.
That hike was no small effort. I was pushing my son the entire way, and it was tough — but thanks to his GRIT Freedom Chair, it was possible. Without that chair, that loop simply wouldn’t have happened. I’m incredibly grateful for that, and thankful to God for making a day like that doable.
At the playground, the boys climbed, slid, and swung until their energy finally dipped. Then it was back up the mountain, through the campground, and back to our site for lunch — simple PB&J sandwiches, which somehow always taste better outside.
Slow Afternoons and Camp Life
After lunch, the boys went right back to digging and playing while I took a little time to read. The weather stayed mostly perfect, though we did have to duck under the tarps a couple times as quick rain showers passed through. They came and went just as fast — the kind of weather that reminds you you’re outdoors without ruining the day.
Later that afternoon, we took another easy hike — about 1.5 miles around the campground loop on top of the mountain. We walked, talked, people-watched, and checked out other campsites, mentally filing away ideas for future trips.
That evening felt earned. Dinner went on the fire, the flames came back to life, and we ended the night with s’mores. Sitting around the fire, soaking in the heat, joking around, and looking up at the stars — it was one of those moments you wish you could freeze.
When it was finally time for bed, we bundled up in our sleeping bags, climbed into our hammocks, and fell asleep fast. Fresh air and full days have a way of doing that.
Sunday and the Ride Home
Sunday morning started early. Breakfast, a little time to let the food settle, and then we packed up camp. No rush — just the quiet efficiency that comes after a good weekend. We loaded up and headed home tired, dirty, and full in the best way.
This trip wasn’t about checking boxes or chasing big adventures. It was about time together. Shared space. Long walks. Dirt under fingernails. Fires that burn down slow. These are the weekends that stick — for them, and for me.
And I’m grateful we got one more.