Adventure Waits for No One

Nobody told their daughter where we were going.

She just started walking, and the rest of us followed.

Adam and Jessie had mentioned a path they loved, a short loop through Camp Richardson that wound along the lake shore. They had been walking it with their daughter all week, watching her chase ducks in the morning light. When we mentioned we were heading up to Tahoe to photograph another family, Jessie lit up immediately. Could we do one for them too? It was one of those questions that isn't really a question. Of course we could. Some sessions find you before you find them.

Ruwan and I have known Adam and Jessie for almost twenty years. But the moment we stepped outside the cabin, the itinerary belonged to the two-year-old. The dock, the water's edge, the grassy lawn, the big wraparound porch on the closed-up cabin at the end of the trail. We got to all of it eventually, just in the order a curious toddler in rubber boots decided.

Their daughter was a little shy when we first arrived. Within a few minutes she had warmed up completely, mostly because we found common ground over books. By the time we headed out for the walk, she was already in charge.

She made it clear she could handle the dock stairs herself. She could, with one hand on the guide rail and the full concentration of a person who has somewhere important to be. Up on the dock, Ruwan got the tickles and the giggles. Their daughter waved at ducks. Adam spotted an opportunity for a shot he'd had in mind, the family framed by the dock stretching out behind them into the water. He tried to coax her toward him. She had already grabbed Jessie's hand and was pulling her back down the stairs toward the path. That photo doesn't exist. She had somewhere else to be.

Ruwan — She was most confident when she had both hands held. One in Adam's, one in Jessie's. That's when she'd balance across rocks, or let herself be swung up into the air. It also came in handy when she slipped out of her boots, which happened more than once. Mom or Dad would scoop her up, get the boot back on, and she'd be off again before they'd finished. Adventure waits for no one.

The ducks were their daughter's primary obsession all week, and when we looped back near the water's edge she spotted them immediately. She started inching toward the lake. One step. Then another. A toe in the water. A small splash. Jessie was laughing. Adam was watching the way parents watch when they already know how this ends. Before the toddler could commit fully to what was clearly her plan all along, he scooped her up in a bear hug and lifted her out. Her boots had bought him just enough time. The ducks, for their part, kept a sensible distance throughout.

As the afternoon light started to soften we found a quieter spot to rest and put sweaters on. Their daughter had been watching our cameras all walk. I crouched down and showed her the back of the viewfinder. There she was. She stared at the screen, completely still for the first time all afternoon, studying her own face with an expression I can only describe as deeply satisfied. I showed her how to press the shutter. She clicked it. The joy on her face when it worked. Adam watched from a few feet away and said, with the weary good humor of a man who already owns a lot of camera equipment, that he hoped she wasn't going to want to share lenses.

Ruwan — I think she'd have strong opinions about which ones she wanted.

We looped back toward the cabin across a wide grassy lawn. Somewhere along the way their daughter decided that Jessie's beanie would look better on her own head. She was right, though I didn't have the heart to say so out loud.

Then she found more stairs.

The big cabin at the end of the trail was closed until summer, but its wraparound deck was open and the toddler discovered immediately that the log railings were perfect for peekaboo. She played it with Ruwan first, then invited both parents to join. Her little face appearing between the logs, grinning, completely certain this was the funniest thing anyone had ever done. Those frames became some of my favorites from the whole day.

We made it back to the cabin just as the last light came off the water. Dinner was already being set up when we arrived. I had stopped at a bakery in Bishop on our drive up, because I always stop at that bakery, and the focaccia I brought fit better than I could have planned with the pasta already on the table. We ate together as the light faded outside.

Before we left, Jessie brought out a book.

We put our cameras away for this part. The family started this tradition the very first night they arrived at the cabin, a story that gets read aloud, chapter by chapter, a little further each visit. That evening everyone found a spot in the living room, cousins and aunts and uncles and old friends crowding around Jessie on the couch as she read the next chapter out loud. Their daughter, who had led us all over Camp Richardson for the better part of an afternoon, sat quietly and listened. Books, apparently, were serious business.

Some things are worth keeping as memories, not photographs. This was one of them.

Ruwan and I said our goodnights and walked back to the lodge in the dark. The lake was quiet. I was already thinking about what we'd find the next morning.