Oh, I was trained. My father was a field herpetologist before he ended up teaching the same in the ivory towers. Every year until I was 14 or so was either Death Valley or Tahoe Rim Trail. Now that I'm aid soloing more, I've gotten used to carrying massive soul-destroying loads in a haulbag up scree and loose trails. Dixie has gotten used to receiving phone calls from me on the approach saying that I want to quit. She usually lets me pant a bit (or maybe i'm sobbing) and then tells me to touch the start of the climb at least, then I can quit at that point.
I got a bit too much of backpacking when I was young because my father was more of a stoic slave driver than the caring companion you seem to be to your children on the trail. Now hiking is a means to an end for me; if there's no climbing at the end, I feel cheated.
Hell I went to the Pinnacles twice a year every year in my youth where my father would hike us from the East Side campground, over the peaks, and to the West Side and then back again. Every once in awhile we'd pass some climbers that my dad called "a selfish user group." Little did I know, I'd grow up to be one of them.
