I’ve shared countless experiences—both big and small—with my dear friend Sarah over the years. From middle school to college and even standing by each other at our weddings, our friendship has flourished, with us never living more than twenty miles apart. We constantly text, and we know nearly everything about each other. Our connection has deepened even further as our families have expanded.
So, when Sarah suggested, “Why don’t the four of us take a trip to Alaska?” I was intrigued but also felt a sense of dread creeping in. My family, which includes my husband, Mike, and our two kids, frequently spends time with Sarah and her partner, Matt. However, the thought of a long trip with children filled me with anxiety.
Before long, Sarah, Matt, and Mike had mapped out an ambitious twelve-day plan: flying into Anchorage, driving to Denali, returning to Anchorage, and then setting sail on a seven-day cruise through the Inside Passage. My mind immediately conjured images of my kids getting car sick on the way to Denali, tiring out on scenic hikes, feeling queasy on the cruise, and breaking down during lengthy dinners. While challenges like these hadn’t ruined our past vacations, this time felt different.
My anxiety stemmed from the fact that these friends deserved a relaxing getaway. Mike and I had our fair share of family trips, but I had a realistic understanding of how challenging it could be to travel with kids. I was apprehensive about them spending their hard-earned money and precious vacation time on what could turn out to be a chaotic trip.
After some soul-searching, I finally opened up to Sarah about my concerns, outlining all the potential pitfalls—both minor and major. “We’re aware of that!” she laughed. “It’ll be different with kids, but that’s the adventure!”
Months later, as we boarded the plane, I hoped for the best.
What Unfolded
Our six-year-old son, Jack, became exhausted on the first hike, collapsing into the mud and crying the rest of the way. He also lost his cherished hat in Denali, leading to tears all the way back to our hotel. Meanwhile, our four-year-old, Liam, suffered stomach issues during the cruise, causing him to scream in our cramped bathroom for an hour and then cry for the rest of the night. A few days later, he was so tired at Dave’s formal birthday dinner that he fell asleep in his pasta.
Yet, these moments hardly impacted our boys’ memories of the trip. They still vividly recall the sea lions perched on an iceberg outside our stateroom, the thunderous sound of glaciers calving into the bay, and the wildlife encounters with grizzlies, caribou, and puffins. Each time they reminisce about the journey, I’m reminded of the invaluable lessons we gained by traveling with friends who don’t have children.
Having child-free companions allowed us to challenge our preconceived notions of kid-friendly activities. We wouldn’t have observed a beaver at work if Sarah and Matt hadn’t encouraged us to attempt a more challenging hike. They also nudged us away from the chaotic cruise buffet and into the ship’s elegant dining room, where we could savor a well-prepared meal in a more relaxed setting. Thanks to their suggestion, we extended our Juneau excursion, leading to a breathtaking encounter with breaching humpback whales.
Our children were also inspired to step outside their comfort zones. It’s easy for Jack and Liam to fall into familiar family routines, but the presence of our friends injected fresh energy into their sense of adventure. Jack bravely faced a massive moose on foot, while Liam enthusiastically joined us for an exhilarating banana boat ride to Ketchikan. Even when rain soaked him during a hike through the rainforest, he laughed instead of crying.
Traveling with friends who don’t have kids eased some of the pressure that comes with parenting. When Jack began to melt down after discovering the mini-golf course was closed, Matt calmly introduced him to his “fancy” camera. A new voice, a fresh approach, and a different toy made all the difference—Jack forgot about golf entirely. At breakfast, I was nagging Jack to eat over his plate while he grew increasingly irritable. In contrast, Sarah asked him what he was most excited about for school, and our meal proceeded smoothly.
Watching Jack and Liam interact with Sarah and Matt made me realize how often I focus on directing my kids’ behavior instead of simply enjoying conversations with them. Traveling with another couple also revitalized our discussions, which often revolve around our kids at home. I loved watching my sons marvel at the mountain views, but I equally cherished the evenings spent on the balcony with Sarah and Matt, sipping champagne and escaping the endless chatter about toys and games.
While I still value the merits of traveling with other families, I’ve come to appreciate the capabilities of children far more than I once did. Before Jack and Liam came along, Mike and I traveled extensively across continents, postponing starting a family because we feared how it would affect our adventures. I often wonder what experiences we could have shared with our boys had I not been so anxious. Nevertheless, I’m grateful for our friends for helping me shift my focus from obstacles to the joys of a family trip. Without their encouragement, we might not have embarked on last summer’s challenging hike in Kauai or booked our upcoming snorkeling adventure in Central America. Now, I browse travel websites with newfound confidence, thinking, “We can do that. All of us.”
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In conclusion, this adventure taught me the value of stepping out of my comfort zone and embracing new experiences, not just for myself but for my children as well. Traveling with friends without kids can provide fresh perspectives that enrich family vacations and create lasting memories.