We Hiked Mount Tallac With 3 Kids Under 8 — Here’s What Actually Happened
10 miles. 3,176 feet of elevation gain. 10 hours. One 4-year-old who hiked every single step up himself.
There are a lot of things I expected to pack for a 10-mile hike with three kids.
Sandwiches.
Chocolate raisins.
Two kid carriers.
A first aid kit.
What I didn’t expect?
A little silicone device that let me pee standing up like a man.
Turns out, when you’re a mom spending ten hours on a mountain, convenience wins over dignity every single time.
Looking back, that wasn’t even the most surprising part of the day.
Two nights before our hike, Jayce woke up crying from a nightmare.
When I asked what was wrong, he looked at me and said,
“You wouldn’t let me hike Mount Tallac.”
At the time, I thought it was just a nightmare.
Looking back, I think it was a promise he had already made to himself.
We Tried a Different Route First
Before this hike, we actually attempted a shorter route—about six miles round trip.
We made it roughly a mile before turning around.
The trail was narrow, loose, exposed, and didn’t feel safe with three little kids.
So we hiked back to the car.
No shame.
No disappointment.
Just a reminder that adventure and good judgment belong together.
There was even a third option closer to fourteen miles, but with a seven-year-old, a four-year-old, and a two-year-old, that wasn’t the right choice either.
The Fallen Leaf Lake route felt like the best balance of challenge and safety.
Our Plan
We weren’t actually committed to the summit.
Our real goal was Cathedral Lake.
That was our decision point.
If the kids were tired, overwhelmed, or simply done…
We were done too.
No summit is worth forcing.
Sometimes success looks like turning around.
Sometimes it looks like taking one more step.
We packed sandwiches, snacks, two kid carriers, a first aid kit, plenty of water, and enough chocolate raisins to qualify as their own food group.
The First Mile Almost Broke Us
The trail wastes absolutely no time.
Five hundred feet of elevation gain right out of the gate.
Jayce also decided breakfast was optional despite about two hours of reminders.
The first mile?
Lots of whining.
Lots of doubt.
Lots of wondering if this was going to become a very expensive walk.
Then, somewhere around mile one, he looked up at us and said,
“Imma crush Mount Tallac.”
And somehow…
he did.
The funny thing is none of us were really surprised.
Jayce has always had a rock-solid mindset.
Once he decides he’s doing something, there isn’t much room for doubt.
If one of our kids was stubborn enough to hike ten miles up a mountain at four years old…
it was always going to be him.
The Mountain Became a Classroom
Brielle spent most of the day happily riding in her carrier.
She sang her ABCs.
Told me, “Good job, Mom.”
Looked out over miles of granite and casually declared,
“Easy hike, Mom.”
Sure, Brielle.
Easy.
At the summit, surrounded by one of the most incredible views in California, her biggest concern was simply,
“Chocolate raisins?”
Priorities.
Meanwhile Devin transformed the mountain into a homeschool lesson.
He calculated what percentage of the hike we’d completed.
We talked through survival skills.
Bryce explained when you’d need to filter water.
Devin asked questions about every lake, creek, and granite peak we passed.
The boys also spent half the day racing each other to every switchback.
Whoever reached the next turn first immediately looked back to make sure the other wasn’t catching up.
Apparently Mount Tallac had quietly become a sibling competition.
We even turned my biggest freak-out moment into a homeschool lesson.
Halfway through the hike we found a snake stretched across the trail.
I’ve honestly never seen one out there before.
Bryce thought I was about to fall over.
The kids, of course, were fascinated.
So while I stood a very respectable distance away, Bryce calmly encouraged it off the trail and we talked about respecting wildlife, giving animals space, and appreciating them without bothering them.
Not exactly the science lesson I had planned for the day, but homeschool doesn’t usually follow a lesson plan anyway.
The Last Push
The Rock Bowl was exactly as hard as everyone says.
Steep.
Big rocks.
Exposed.
And tiring.
Just before the summit, Jayce’s legs started hurting.
For the first time all day, he looked like he might actually be done.
Bryce knelt beside him and picked him up to give him a hug and quick chat.
Not to tell him quitting was okay.
Instead he smiled and said,
“Repeat after me.”
“I can do difficult things.”
“I am strong.”
“I am powerful.”
“I am going to make it to the top.”
One sentence.
One step.
One switchback.
One more step.
And then…
We were standing on top of Mount Tallac!
Later Bryce told me his favorite moment wasn’t the view.
It was watching Jayce realize he had actually done it.
Watching that confidence settle in.
Watching a four-year-old understand that he was capable of something he once thought impossible.
The Summit
Jayce looked out over Lake Tahoe and quietly said,
“I’m an expert.”
Then,
“I’m so proud of myself.”
And finally,
“Mom, everyone was so proud of me.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Complete strangers stopped to encourage him all day.
We heard things like,
“Wait…how many kids do you have?”
“Your son is going to be in special forces someday.”
“That is so inspiring.”
“You’re going to have the coolest kids.”
We just smiled.
Inside, we were every bit as surprised as everyone else.
At the top we sat down for lunch and made a new chipmunk friend.
He got progressively braver with every bite we took, clearly convinced one of us would eventually share.
The kids couldn’t stop laughing and all they could talk about was how Nyx would have absolutely lost his mind trying to chase him around the summit.
It felt like one of those quiet little moments that somehow becomes one of your favorite memories.
The Way Down
I’ll be honest.
The descent humbled me.
My feet were swelling.
Every downhill step hurt.
I genuinely wasn’t sure how I was getting back to the trailhead.
Somewhere around mile seven I started questioning every life decision that brought me to this mountain.
Meanwhile, my children were negotiating who got to be in front.
Bryce looked over and simply said,
“I’ve got an idea.”
A few minutes later Brielle was happily riding in the carrier in front of Bryce while Jayce was taking a quick nap on Bryce’s back carrier.
Sixty pounds of kids.
Loose granite.
Steep switchbacks.
Then we looked behind us.
Dark clouds started building over the mountains.
Nothing motivates a family quite like realizing there’s a thunderstorm chasing you down the trail.
We picked up the pace.
And somehow Bryce made it look easier than I was making walking by myself.
People actually stopped to watch him pass.
One hiker smiled and said,
“That’s the most impressive thing I’ve seen all day.”
I couldn’t disagree.
I’ve always known he’s an incredible dad and husband.
Watching him literally carry our family down that mountain is something I’ll never forget.
Then Jayce woke up, and insisted on walking the rest of the way after the Rock Bowl.
By the time we reached Cathedral Lake again, I had one thing on my mind.
Water.
We kicked off our shoes and sank our feet into the freezing lake.
Instant relief.
The cold water brought the swelling down just enough that I felt like I could actually finish the hike.
We sat there for a few quiet minutes, catching our breath while the kids played along the shoreline like they hadn’t already spent hours climbing a mountain.
Then we looked behind us.
Dark clouds were building over the peaks.
Nothing motivates a family quite like realizing there’s a thunderstorm chasing you down the trail.
Shoes back on.
Packs tightened.
Time to move.
Near Floating Island Lake Jayce caught a toe on a rock and split his lip.
Thankfully the first aid kit finally earned its spot in the backpack.
He still wants to do another big hike.
Our Participation Trophy
After 10 miles…
3,176 feet of elevation gain…
one scraped lip…
two wildlife encounters…
countless snack breaks…
and one four-year-old proving all of us wrong…
our reward wasn’t a medal.
It wasn’t a certificate.
It wasn’t even sore legs.
It was a massive sunburn.
Apparently SPF 50 has a time limit.
We also celebrated the only way we know how:
Sushi.
Ice cream.
And three kids who somehow came home with enough energy to sprint laps around the house while Bryce and I debated whether standing up again was really necessary.
Tallac by the Numbers
🥾 Distance: 10 miles
⛰️ Elevation Gain: 3,176 feet
⏰ Total Time: 10 hours
🍫 Chocolate Raisin Requests: Too many to count
🐍 Wildlife Encounters: 2
🩹 Split Lips: 1
☀️ Participation Trophies (Sunburns): 2 adults + 1 child
😅 Parents Questioning Their Life Choices: Multiple
🏃 Kids Who Came Home and Immediately Started Sprinting Around the House: 3
🧊 Parents Who Needed Two Days to Recover: 2
🏔️ Kids Already Asking About the Next Mountain: Also 3
Would We Do It Again?
Absolutely.
Maybe that’s just trail amnesia.
Kind of like forgetting childbirth and deciding to have another baby.
Would we pack more snacks?
Definitely.
Would I train my calves harder?
Without question.
Would I still bring the standing pee device?
One hundred percent.
And we’d still celebrate exactly the same way.
Sushi.
Ice cream.
Three kids somehow sprinting around the house.
Two parents wondering if sitting down forever was a reasonable life choice.
Why We Do This
People ask us all the time if our kids are just naturally adventurous.
The truth is, they’re becoming adventurous because we keep giving them opportunities to discover what they’re capable of.
We don’t hike mountains because we expect our four-year-old to summit them.
We hike mountains because somewhere along the way our kids learn resilience, confidence, patience, teamwork, and grit.
They learn that big goals aren’t reached in giant leaps.
They’re reached one snack break.
One switchback.
One scraped lip.
One affirmation.
One chocolate raisin.
One step at a time.
A few days after the hike, people kept asking us,
“How did your four-year-old climb Mount Tallac?”
The truth is, he didn’t climb a mountain.
He took one step.
Then another.
Then another.
With snack breaks, sibling races, scraped lips, encouragement, sushi, ice cream, exhausted parents, and one little boy repeating,
“I can do difficult things.”
Helping families choose adventure over screens isn’t really about hiking mountains.
It’s about raising kids who grow up believing that when something feels impossible, they already know where to start.
One step at a time.
This was The Tallac Project.
And somehow, I have a feeling it’s only the beginning.
What we packed & What We Wish We Packed
When we hiked Mount Tallac with three kids, this is the gear that made the biggest difference.
Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate, we earn from qualifying purchases at no additional cost to you.
Child Carrier
Brielle rode in our carrier for the toughest sections of the hike. It allowed us to keep moving when little legs were tired. We had a second carrier for Jayce as a back up.
Kids Hiking Backpack
One thing we’ve learned is that kids are capable of more than we often expect. Giving Devin his own backpack allowed him to carry water, snacks, extra layers, and all the treasures he found along the trail.
Sun Protection
At elevation the sun is no joke. Hats and sunscreen were essential.
Should have had More Electrolytes
Ten hours on the trail required more hydration support than we anticipated.
Should have brought Trekking Poles
The descent was much harder than the climb. Next time we’d bring poles.
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