Raising the Nomadic Kid

Children thrive on stability. For the Overingtons, that balance spans two homes in two separate environments, thousands of miles apart yet inextricably linked by a predictable, seasonal migration. In part 1 of their story, we discovered the obstacles the Overingtons overcame to make their lifestyle work. In part 2, we’ll examine the opportunities that their nomadic lifestyle has offered their son. Just as sharing in the outdoors bonded Buckwheat and Louise as a couple, the birth of their son, Louis, secured that passion as the cornerstone of their family dynamic. The Overingtons prove that professional nomads can lead stable family lives, and even offer their children valuable opportunities endemic only to the nomadic lifestyle.

 

Family time

BW and Louis skiing 9mths copy

Louis hitching ski laps in Buckwheats backpack at nine months

Born in April, Louis began hitching rides down Utah ski hills in his father’s backpack at six months. “First two years with him in a backpack I didn’t slow down. I was skiing everything, all the trees and steeps and chutes, not even changing my ski tactic at all, just taking him everywhere.” Buckwheat laughs. “I got a lot of crooked looks out of that.”

By three, Louis was getting a little heavy so they put him on skis and took turns parenting on the bunny slopes and indulging hot chocolate breaks. The adventure slowed down temporarily as Louis learned the fundamentals of skiing, but simultaneously it developed new meaning for his parents. A brand new adventure awaited on the other side of that learning curve. At eight, Louis showed interest in jumping bigger, so Buckwheat figured he’d test out each jump or drop to measure its suitability for his son. It wasn’t long before the roles reversed and these days Buckwheat finds himself following his son off cliffs he would never have dared on his own.

Family on the Jack 2010

The family enjoying flatwater on the Jack River in 2010

Like Wasatch snow in the winter, Alaskan rivers provide a summer environment in which the Overingtons can grow as individuals but also bond as a family. They comprise a perfect, self-sufficient boating trifecta with enough eyes and paddles to look out for each other. No longer do they follow in a tight line through rapids for safety. Now the family scatters across the familiar, turbulent water and catches waves within eyeshot of each other as they dance from one feature to the next. Although Louis has developed into a solid class IV boater, it’s not important to him to always be on the gnarliest section of river—though it is critical to explore whichever section he is on to its maximum playfulness. Beside him, Buckwheat enjoys guiding his son’s development and Louise values family time outdoors. Sharing their passions keep their lives intertwined and engaged with one another. Their nomadic lifestyle provides daily outdoor opportunities year-round and Louis’s enthusiasm ensures that everyone gets a large helping of them.

 

Natural classrooms

Louis first time on skis at 2 1_2 yrs old copy

Louis’s first time on skis

Like many kids, Louis’s athletics are a classroom for life lessons. In all areas of their son’s development, Buckwheat and Louise have encouraged Louis to approach challenges by analyzing risk versus reward. “I think that’s been the balancing act with Louis in adventure sports: taking the risk but trying to keep the fear out of it, not taking the risk too far; knowing where the limitations are, knowing where the edge is, and giving him the opportunity.” In this situation, that approach has worked well. “Fortunately he’s not a blind hucker. He’s a calculated risk kid; he wasn’t the first one down the slide.” Louis learned by watching others and estimating his abilities from what he saw. Even in adventure sports, that calculated attitude still pervades.

Louise recalls her son’s first powder run. Louis watched an older kid ski first and then assessed the slope thoroughly. “I saw him contemplating the run, for a little guy who was five. Louis just stood there watching it—very calculated—and then he just took off. It was so cute; it was perfect! Beautiful little turns all the way down.” From there, Louis would always be reaching for more of that—more autonomy, more understanding of the environment, and more confidence that he can work within natural parameters to face challenges.

Louis huck

Louis huckin’

The Overingtons couldn’t fathom how integral the outdoors would become in their son’s development. Over the years he patiently built a technical skill set, but the winter and summer surrounding his eleventh birthday showcased that the physical and mental side had finally caught up to his dedication. “It’s a whole new level of confidence,” his dad says. “He’s stronger and smarter. He’s not a little boy anymore.” His drive grew with his abilities and at twelve Louis became the no-name kid who won the IFSA Freeride Nationals in his age group. The title was exciting, but the season was about much more than that for Louis. Similar to the painting an artist hangs in a gallery, the championship was payoff for dedication unwitnessed by the audience. Moreover, for Louis it’s meaningless without it.

Louis 2014 IFSA Jr Freeride Camp Ski Line

Louis at the 2014 IFSA Jr. Freeride Nationals

“I don’t really want to have a competition against other people, I just want to have a competition against myself. If I’m, like, skiing like crap but I’m winning…” Louis looks for the words. “You’re not as happy as if you were skiing really well and not winning,” his dad offers. Louis nods. “I kind of, like, have a goal against myself. I just see how well I did so it’s definitely a goal, not an expectation.”

The seasonal dynamic has offered Louis unique learning opportunities right outside his door. Consistent exploration in these environments have taught him about the natural world as well as himself. Through skiing he’s likely learned about different types of snowpack, how temperature alters it over time, and mountain composition. For himself, skiing’s taught balance, skill progression, and how to set achievable goals. Similarly, through kayaking he’s learned about buoyancy, displacement, current, characteristics of glacial water vs. fresh water, how water and erosion shape the landscape, and that water flow is unceasing. Consequently, he’s learned to maintain mental composure, embrace difficulty, and that consistent hard work pays dividends. Reflecting upon both sports, he may have even likened the flow of water to that of wind over a ridge top recognizing that both create eddies on the leeward side of the current.

Louis’s adventures reaffirm his ability to assess situations thoroughly and trust his judgment. Through all of it he probably learns more from his failures than his successes. He tests himself against the challenges nature sets and in return the environment provides measurements that don’t lie. For Louis, the world is a playground and the lessons are infinite.

 

Après ski lessons

Buckwheat and Louis Ducky

Buckwheat and Louis paddling the downriver race in the Nenana Riverfest (photo courtesy of Kris Capps)

The same lessons taught in adventure sports mirror the Overingtons’ parenting philosophy. Buckwheat encourages his son to, “explore those boundaries, and assess the danger factor, and make those decisions and pay the consequences for whatever the result is from that decision; learn from it and grow from it.” They believe responsibility mixed with culpability have given him a step up in many aspects of his life.

Lessons about right and wrong are achieved through self-discovery and consequences. “I learn a lot every day from letting this one play out. And it encourages Louis to test the boundaries, sometimes to our frustration, panic, alarm, etcetera, but more often to our pleasant surprise and amazement. You take the good with the bad,” Buckwheat explains. “I want to be there to monitor, nurture, and assist in his discovery and decision-making while I can, so hopefully he will be more capable when I’m not there. How can you learn self-preservation when you’ve been guided by, “stop, don’t, and no?” Throughout all of it Louis is making decisions and learning about his own abilities.

“The thing is,” Buckwheat explains, “I’ve also noticed that by leading with a loose leash you don’t really have to yank on the leash. They learn how to discover that edge themselves because they’ve been discovering where it is their whole life and so they’re much more familiar with where that edge is and how to recognize it when they get there. A few times here and there, it’s more like suggestions, giving them a different perspective on something that maybe you’re seeing in a different way.”

Louis ender

Louis getting endered in the Nenana

 

Sociability

Louis has grown up in a more socially varied world than just winter scene versus summer scene. From raft guides, to kayakers the age of his grandparents, to ski coaches, to local athletes he admires, Louis’s dynamic background seems to have given him a step up socially. He engages easily with people of all ages and older and younger companions alike often find his excitement and optimism infectious.

At ten years old Louis’s dad lobbied for him to get into the Alta Freeride Division (AFD). They had tried several ski programs previously but because those organized participants by age nothing quite meshed. The minimum age requirement for AFD had just been lowered from twelve to eleven for the first season ever, but Louis was only ten so his dad arranged for him to tryout with the coaches. They determined that Louis’s skiing skills and maturity would balance well with the rest of the team and invited him to participate. Throughout the winter, Louis impressed the coaches with more than his skiing. At the end of the season they award a cowboy-style belt buckle to the member of the team who brings the right attitude and embodies the values that they’re trying to instill in all the skiers on the team. Normally the buckle is reserved for a second or third year athlete but that year they picked Louis, a brand new athlete and youngest member on the team. Buckwheat beams when relaying this. It’s clear that public recognition for those qualities in Louis makes him prouder of his son than any gold medal.

 

The big picture

Louis has made some notable athletic strides in his young life, but those aren’t the things that make him a noteworthy kid—it’s what Louis and his family represent on a larger scale that’s important. The nomadic lifestyle enables deeper immersion into our passions—a valuable gift nomads can share with their children. Not only is it possible to continue the seasonal lifestyle into parenthood, when done well it offers children unique learning opportunities, connects them with their environment, and provides opportunities to achieve autonomy at a young age. For Louis it’s not a question of how he handles the seasonal lifestyle because that’s been the tempo of his entire life. So far Louis has been part of only two communities—one in the summer and one in the winter—and in each one he’s connected with the landscape and grown his identity from that. The Overingtons teach us that professional nomads do not have to abandon the lifestyle they love to raise a family. In fact, that lifestyle might rank among the greatest gifts they have to offer a child.

Louis Stern Squirt

Louis playboating, summer 2014. (Photo courtesy of Rebecca Tifft Photography)

 

Missed part 1? Catch part 1 of the Overingtons story and learn how the Overingtons built their nomadic family dynamic!

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The Overingtons

 

Part. 1: Building the Seasonal Family Dynamic

The family and their new boats

The family and their new boats in New Zealand

For professional nomads, the seasonal lifestyle is not about stringing jobs together, it’s about weaving employment into a lifestyle guided by passion. For some, the idea of raising a child in that lifestyle sounds irresponsible if not impossible—but it doesn’t have to. There is no reason the driving, architectural force of one’s young adulthood should be stymied by parenthood. By adopting that commonality as the cornerstone for their seasonal family’s foundation, couples that meet while working seasonally can remain in the lifestyle that attracted them together and still raise a child responsibly. The unknown path, though intimidating, is not unnavigable. For the Overingtons of Healy, Alaska and Salt Lake City, Utah, it’s been a series of calculated risks.

Bill “Buckwheat” Overington and Louise Lovrich have raised their 12-year old son, Louis, entirely in the seasonal lifestyle. They own a rafting business in Denali National Park that operates in the summer, and the rest of the year find themselves in Salt Lake City where Louise works in pharmacy and Buckwheat drives for the transportation concessionaire at Snowbird ski resort.

Louis on the top of the podium at the IFSA National Freeride Championship

Louis on top of the podium at the IFSA National Freeride Championship

That recipe has produced interesting results. If the fear of raising a kid seasonally is that transferring between schools twice a year will stunt him socially, fill him with loneliness, instill a penchant for over-compensation, and—yaddah yaddah—ultimately leave him homeless and in a ditch, we can probably shelve that one. In reality, what’s emerged from the oven is a well-adjusted kid who looks up to his dad, kayaks with his parents regularly, out-paddles boaters twice his age, and last year became the national freeride ski champion in his age group. He’s confident, smart, and supportive of his peers. Although there’s still time for him to end up homeless in a ditch, the evidence suggests he’ll be fine.

Beyond passion for the outdoors, as business owners the Overingtons’ livelihood depended on blending parenthood into the seasonal lifestyle successfully. “The thing is, most people have never done it themselves and they don’t know anyone else who’s really done it that way either, so in their mind you can’t do it—until someone does it and it seems to work. Then they’re pretty supportive,” Buckwheat explains. Trailblazing requires fortitude, but the Overingtons’ sagaciousness enabled another Salt Lake City family to set up a seasonal lifestyle in Panama. Most of the anticipated roadblocks, both families discovered, were nothing more than untested parenting taboos.

“It’s all about risk, all of these things,” Buckwheat says. “It doesn’t always work out, and it doesn’t always work out the way you expect it to, but if you have the fortitude and the gumption to accept the consequences as they be, whatever it is, you know, you learn from it, you grow from it.”

Navigating the school system presented the first hurdles, and tested the family dynamic they’d constructed. Until this year, Louis began each school year in Healy, Alaska before transferring to Salt Lake City in the fall. “[People] ask us, ‘Does the Utah school allow that?’ It’s like, ‘how can they not?’” Buckwheat laughs.

Louise recalls being warned by the school that Louis would lose enrollment if he accompanied her to New Zealand for six weeks in kindergarden. Louise asked, “Can I just re-enroll him when we show up?” Well, yes, she could. By testing the perimeter, they’ve teased out opportunities that wouldn’t have otherwise existed, and for the first time they’re carving out a more significant slice of their year to devote to New Zealand.

In an effort to integrate Louise’s home landscape deeper into their lives, this year the family has made an opportunity to visit Louise’s parents and explore New Zealand kayaking and mountain biking. After beginning the school year in Healy the “Wheats,” as friends often refer to them, are trying out homeschooling.

Taking a break from skiing

The family taking a break from skiing

So what’s the recipe behind the recipe? What aspects of their seasonal lives became the pillars of their seasonal family? Where were forks in the road where they could have folded? By evaluating the risks they took as individuals, and then as a couple, we can understand how the Overingtons beat odds to become the seasonal family they are today.

Louise

Louise and Louis kayaking at 3mths copy

Louise with a 3-month old Louis

Louise grew up in New Zealand, the daughter of Croatian immigrants. Her parents, WWII survivors, had made aversion to danger the guiding force in their life and that was reflected in their daughter’s upbringing. Louise felt sheltered from many benign experiences. Family beach outings provided an egress but a desire for something more burned inside of her. Although New Zealand would become the adventure sport capital of the world, that exploded after Louise’s time, and like many Kiwis she looked out from her country in search of more world than could fit onto her tiny island. Thus, as a young adult Louise left the country in search of adventure.

After pharmacy school, a ski week in Austria inspired Louise to make plans with a friend to move to Colorado and become ski bums for one winter. At the last minute, however, her friend bailed to get married. This was an important moment for Louise. Her friend married and never again had the chance for that one winter at a ski resort, and it would have been easy for Louise to bow out and follow suit. Louise was intimidated but the departure date was approaching fast so she stuck to the plan, found a restaurant job near Aspen, and fell skis first into a twenty-five year passion for powder. A series of events led to her renewing her visa, living in Durango, and meeting Buckwheat. What was intended as one winter abroad quickly evolved into a lifestyle of adventure.

 

Buckwheat

Punching Two Rocks rapid on the Nenana (Buckwheat guiding far left)

Punching Two Rocks rapid on the Nenana (Buckwheat guiding far left)

By age ten Buckwheat was already riding his motorcycle solo through the woods. Although he claims his mom was “a bit of a scaredy cat,” she was apparently out riding motorcycles at times, as well. Regardless, Buckwheat’s childhood provided more room for scrapes and bruises than Louise’s, and he mitigated the doldrums of suburban Florida by channeling his energy into motocross and football. At twelve, his parents divorced and he and his mom moved to Colorado where winters suddenly impeded on the Floridian’s hobbies. An extracurricular ski class at fifteen, however, gave winter purpose. “Winter was just a pain in the ass up to that point. Skiing opened up a whole new side of life,” he reflects.

Under the guidance of his best friend, Rick, Buckwheat evolved into an aggressive skier. The pair often skipped school for powder days and were gifted enough students that it bore little affect on their academics. Adventures amplified their lives until one fateful night when Rick was killed in a car accident. Rick’s ashes were scattered on Telluride and since then skiing has become more spiritual for Buckwheat, who still thinks of his friend often while on the mountain.

In college, Buckwheat couldn’t afford motorized bikes anymore so he ditched the motor and joined the pioneer mountain biking scene in Durango. An outdoors class at Fort Lewis introduced him to kayaking and soon this trifecta—skiing, mountain biking, and kayaking—vied for his attention and became the guiding framework of his young adult life. Eventually, photography and driving work for a Grand Canyon raft company led Buckwheat to raft guiding on the Animas in Durango. That segue planted a major life seed that years later blossomed into the founding of Denali Outdoor Center, but it’s significance lay dormant at first.

Initially, sports were about adrenaline—even skiing to an extent. Buckwheat’s first overnight river trip on the San Juan, however, developed his spiritual connection to the outdoors. “Finding solitude in the canyons of southern Utah, reading Desert Solitaire, and discovering the tranquility of isolation, truly turned me on to river life,” he explains. “[Adventure sports] became a catalyst for spiritual and physical happiness; connecting me with the power and humility of the experience, and maintaining my physical well-being as they continued to satisfy my desire for the next adrenaline rush.” What began as hobbies escalated into indispensable intimacy. Since then, these pursuits have infiltrated every aspect of his life.

 

Providence

Louise hit the jackpot. Her first ever river trip comprised three weeks on the most coveted section of high volume whitewater in the country and even introduced her to her future husband. They didn’t date immediately, however. Buckwheat would drive Louise twice that year, first as her shuttle driver for the Grand Canyon and then again for public transit in Durango that winter. After the second meeting, Buckwheat invited Louise out for a drink but in an effort to stick to a new personal restriction about not agreeing to every date proposal, she turned down the man she would eventually marry. Providence provided a second chance meeting at the laundromat that evening, however, and afterward they found themselves getting that drink after all.

Many adventures later, Buckwheat would get hired at a rafting company in Denali, but bailed on the idea after doing some research at the library. “We’re looking at the rainfall amounts and stuff and we’re like ‘we don’t want to go there, drive all the way up there and have it be cold and rainy all the time,'” Buckwheat says.

“I just remember that picture of everyone [rafting] in Helly Hansen,” Louise laments. “I was like, uh, looks like it rains a lot there.”

It does, which they discovered firsthand that year when low water on the Animas expanded their migration to Alaska despite themselves. Denali revealed something more desirable than rain, however. The Nenana proved to be a high volume, low traffic, non-permitted river through incendiary landscape. Over the next few years, they built a home, built a business, and made that glacial-fed river their backyard, rain and all.

 

Trailblazing

Otto Lake Sunset

Home sweet home: sunset over Otto Lake at Denali Outdoor Center

The Denali business originated as an idea for an inflatable kayak school with little hope of getting off the ground. Banks continually refused Buckwheat’s proposal until finally he met with a loan officer who happened to recognize him as the now grown son of her husband’s good friend. She took a chance on his risky idea and, thus, the Denali Park Paddling Center was formed in 1993. Eventually, that evolved into the Denali Outdoor Center (DOC), one of the most respected rafting companies in Alaska today.

Until then, Louise was building a pharmacy career but she quit her full-time gig to start DOC. They had hoped DOC would make enough money for Louise to quit pharmacy all together, but it didn’t work out that way. Although the business is successful, it’s difficult to make enough money in four months to fund their preferred lifestyle. “There’s a certain level of income that’s required to meet those needs to raise a family, it’s one of the reasons why we only have one child. We can afford the tickets to New Zealand, we can afford the toys for everybody, and still live the lifestyle. At 2 or 3 kids we might have to reassess and have a different lifestyle.” Buckwheat analyzes. Therefore, both parents maintain employment in the off-season. Louise became a relief pharmacist which allowed her to work when and where she wanted. It also took her over Colorado mountain passes and away from home for several days at a time—an arrangement unsustainable into parenthood.

They searched Alaska and the West for a place that allowed all facets of their lives to synchronize. Louise offered Walmart winter pharmacy work strictly in Salt Lake City and they accepted. “Back then it was easy since they were so short of pharmacists and they took what you could offer. Hence, I created a seasonal job due to the need for pharmacists. I don’t think I could get away with it now.” In Salt Lake City, they could afford a 4-bedroom, 2-and-a-half bath, decent house in a nice neighborhood, ten minutes from the world class skiing of Snowbird-Alta, for $170,000. “To be able to afford a home that we were only going to live in half the year and that we didn’t want to rent out the other half of the year—you can’t do that anywhere else that I’ve found. You couldn’t pull those pieces together, the work, the other shoulder season activities, great mountain biking in spring and fall there, close to the desert, you know, all the elements. International airport, direct flights to Anchorage.”

Louise adds, “Everything gets negated because of the smog.”

Undoubtedly, her comment represents the underlying truth: there isn’t one landscape that currently meets the family’s needs and desires. Thus, the migration persists, something everyone processes differently. Buckwheat accepts it as a necessary discomfort because neither landscape is attractive to him in the opposite season, whereas Louise is reminded that she would prefer to integrate into one, year-round community. For Louis, the seasonal cadence has permeated his entire life so he has no basis for comparison. Despite the obvious inconvenience, the fall drive south—peppered with kayaking and mountain biking adventures—has developed into a beloved, annual, two-week family vacation capable of dissolving the rest of the bullshit. Indeed, the parents especially know how rare it is to share adventure with the whole family.

 

Built-in adventure buddies

First day of skiing 2012

First day of skiing 2012

If the couple that plays together stays together, then the family who extends that gift to their children fortifies their bond that much more. For those who disbelieve that a person can chase their passion and raise a happy family, the Wheats shatter that illusion. Parenthood mellows the terrain temporarily and adventures metabolize at a different pace for a few years, but seeing passion mirrored in the incredulous eyes of one’s own child deepens that activity’s value forever. In the long run, it can even keep adults engaged in the outdoors at a greater intensity for more years than they naturally would otherwise. It certainly has for Buckwheat and Louise.

Louise admits she satiated her addiction to powder and no longer needs to alter her life for it, however engaging in her passion for the outdoors with her family remains paramount. Buckwheat recognizes that parenthood now has him playing on his skis and kayak with the intensity of his young adult years. As a family of three, the Overingtons travel as a self-contained unit—built-in adventure buddies looking out for each other’s safety and sharing the stoke. For professional nomads, that qualifies as living the dream.

To succeed as a parent in the seasonal lifestyle only the rules need change. As with everything, there’s a way to do it responsibly and a way to do it irresponsibly, and this one starts with a change in the narrative. It’s not a rootless existence but migration between seasonal habitats. Pick your playgrounds, create a niche, and the resultant passion will foster a dynamic learning environment for a child. Adventurous couples have the opportunity to break the paradigm and see their passions take on new life in the next generation. If life is a series of calculated risks, then parenthood is the last place to start taking the easy way out.

 

Ready for adventure in New Zealand

Ready for adventure in New Zealand

Continue to Part 2: Raising the Nomadic Kid

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