Family Bonding Via Comfort and Terror

July 14, 2026|Rick Juliusson

For most people, taking a break from normal life means going somewhere different, away from the usual people and foods and ways of meandering through life. In our inverted reality, it means returning to the land and people we’re usually away from.

After the mountain-top dragons of Vietnam and the Komodo Dragons of Indonesia, what better place to begin a non-adventurous break than the north suburbs of Chicago? Assembling IKEA furniture, unpacking boxes in the parents’ new apartment, shopping at Whole Foods... Toto, I don’t think we’re in Oz anymore

This is not a complaint. We did not come on a quest for dragon fire; we came for the warm smoldering poke-the-embers-with-the-marshmallow-stick contentment of family. Here we are useful, we are connected to family (shout-out to the niblings - always worth a 34-hour flight to see how much y’all are growing!), we are where we should be this week.

First shock - I lived on fresh 40-cent dragon fruit for months

Hopped an overnight train to Minnesota to pick up old travel journals, to support writing a book about my 1989 world travels

Shrivelled imported mango

Shock #2 - after living for 3 years out of one carry-on bag, I still own all this stuff in storage?!

Stinky Family

This same powerful magnetic draw of family pulls in 11 members of our clan from 6 time zones - Western (BC), Mountain (Colorado), Central (Chicago), Eastern (Toronto), Atlantic (New Brunswick), and whatever the heck Bali was - to Philadelphia to celebrate Zekiah’s Haverford College graduation We eat, shoot pool, cheer, picnic, play endless card games, explore art museums, run up the Rocky steps, eat some more.

Family is familiar, an old wool sweater that still smells like the last Christmas ski trip. But being together in a new place for a new wonderful reason for a whole long weekend gives it a fresh aroma. And for the teen and ‘tween niblings who get to come, it’s a first glimpse of inclusion in the adult family world, as well as a tempting morsel of what college life could look like for them.

My favourite memory is in the back of the car - my car, but appropriated and driven by my college-graduate son. Listening to the kids playing and seeking advice from their big cousins, so excited to be recognized as almost-peers. Having so fully accepted my boys as part of the adult family, I sometimes forget they’re much closer to these aspiring adults than to us old hippies.

Seneca Rocks, Virginia

We put the relatives back on the plane, then take our college grad for a celebratory trip. Galen chose the beautiful Magdeleine Islands for his trip, indulging his passion for birds and photography; Zekiah has chosen the Virginia’s for higher-altitude wilderness adventure.

For a warm-up, we hike up Seneca Rocks. At the time we think it a bit nervy, but after the Via Ferrata (see below), we'll casually jog back up it a second time just for kicks and giggles.

The ominous warning sign...

... a few minutes past the warning sign

Via Ferrata - Saying YES! to Terror Bonding

If shared experiences are the key to building and strengthening relationships, sheer terror is the ultimate bond. I choose to say YES! to Via Ferrata at NROCKS in Virginia - a permanently installed system of steel rungs and cables that allows you to climb up and over two towering rock fins. In typical Ricky fashion, I don’t read the website, so I miss their warnings:

"During this 3.5-5 hour climb you’ll gain 1085 feet in elevation, cross a 150 foot high suspension bridge that is over 200 feet long, and reach exposed heights of 280 feet... The Via may not be for the faint of heart, but is well worth the effort for those willing to find the courage to try."

"It can also be emotionally taxing depending on one’s level of comfort with heights. It is not recommended for those who are trying to overcome an intense fear of heights."

So for 5 hours I try not to look down as we traverse and scale sheer cliffs, trusting the metal rungs that some Harry or Ward hammered into the cliff face 25 years ago (“This is actually an unregulated and unmonitored sport in the US,” our guide cheerily tells us, “but of course it’s been done well because it would be bad for business to lose too many clients.”) Other times there are no rungs, so I’m gripping the jagged rocks with increasingly sweaty and shaky hands.

I even agree to the optional challenge climb, straight up a face that is more than 90 degrees (ie, leaning back a little over a 280-foot drop to the valley below). At the top I close my eyes and hug a rock for comfort while the guide explains how we have to swing our legs over into the chasm then fish around for the first rung to begin the descent. “Don’t look down” he warns - no need to say that twice. He must have noticed my inappropriate love affair with the rock, because his casual banter voice has transitioned to a soothing Talk-Him-Down tone so he doesn’t have to somehow carry me down or call in a helicopter or… don’t really know what options there might have been, and would never let my son witness such a collapse of courage, so (gulp) over go the legs down into the yawning jaws of death.

Am I glad I said YES? I am now a man who has scaled a cliff face and never have to do it again. Another manhood-marking life memory shared with my just-as-thrilled-and-not-as-scared son (evidently the Fear-of-Death-by-Jumping-from-Something-High gene didn’t get passed down). And only one nap disturbed by falling-to-death dreams. So, um, I guess ya, yeah for the YES! mentality.

From Near Death to Almost Heaven

On to West Virginia to hike John Denver’s mountain mama. Shenandoah National Park this week is more wet & misty than dark & dusty, but painted on the sky is sometimes a teasing hint of the magnificent vistas that draw 1.4 million hikers each year to this section of Appalachian Trail and the many spurs we enjoy for several day hikes.

When not tromping the trails, we are drinking in the Appalachian culture. Live music at a beer hall way out in a farmer’s field. Confederate flags and “Don’t Tread On Me” baseball caps venerate a version of America some folks ‘round these parts believe is worth fighting for. I swallow my distaste for that politic long enough to enjoy a live bluegrass set and a Dukes of Hazard shrine at Cooter’s Place in Luray, WV.

Best "keep off" sign ever. And that's Cooter's tow truck behind

Old conferderate/US flags litter the graveyard

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

We finish with a quiet week back in the City of Brotherly Love, walking the mile with our boy between college and summer internship. The excitement of his first ever real apartment. A summer of adventure and travel (Boundary Waters, Canada, solo camping back in Virginia) scheduled around a great summer job in his field (including supporting the community bike program during World Cup). A confident stride towards his second and last year of grad school at UPenn, also in city planning.

We walk or bus with him to work, then spend the day back on our own - daily workouts, laptop work, finding new downtown murals and historic sites. Then evenings getting the downlow from the new job, cooking for or with him, evening strolls in our industrial downtown neighbourhood. Uncle Matt lovingly guides him through the wonders of wrinkle-free professional clothing. The world is fresh and wide open for our college graduate, and living it for this precious threshold week through his eyes is every bit as adventurous as a visit with komodo dragons.