Expedition 9 to 5

Many know the captivating feeling of wonder when our Dads start storytelling. Hearing about Don Vollmar’s adventurous, intriguing past ensues excitement in our family. You know you’re in for a treat. More importantly, when your Dad shares a story, you gain a deeper understanding of who he is, inevitably leading to greater self-insight. I grew up constantly hearing I was just like my Dad, whether that was in praise or punishment. It always felt like a compliment (even if I had found myself in trouble with Mom). 

For context, my Dad is a West Point grad, no bullshit, “you’re fine,” “this is how it’s gonna be” kind of father. He was also the type of Dad who made a point to require the same level of toughness of his daughter that he did his son. If Adam mowed the lawn for a chore, I was gonna have to try it too. If Adam and Dad practiced soccer in the back, I was somehow worked into the drill. My Dad, a true feminist, taught me that I could do and be anything I wanted. The fact that I was female would never stop me.  Because of the military background in my family, we often moved around growing up. Adjusting to new environments and making friends became my bread and butter. Even when we were settled, my parents made it a habit to take us on every adventurous endeavor they could. Whether it was visiting our many relatives across the states or a mission to get us to all 7 continents, both my Mom and Dad worked hard to show us the opportunities and adventures that awaited my brother and me. 

Many of us grew up thinking our dads know everything. While I’m sure that my Dad could not possibly know everything there is to know in the world, it still somehow feels like he does. When my car died in the Chick-fil-A parking lot in college, he taught me to change the battery over the phone. When I was getting drowned in powder on our last ski trip, he showed me how to take bumps and float the tips of my skis simultaneously. When I cried over my pre-calculus homework at the kitchen table, he went through every problem until I felt confident. When I was 10 and wanted to be included in family fun, he taught me to play Euchre. When I was scared to travel alone and take an internship in France, he assured me that I was more than capable of that adventure. Even now, when I’m afraid of risk in my adult life, I know that line is always available. 

As I have grown into a (still young) adult, I cherish my Dad’s stories more and more. I relish hearing about my parents’ experiences as a young couple living in Germany and the many adventures they sought after. I sit on the edge of my seat whenever my Dad goes into stories of hitchhiking to Loveland Pass for fresh tracks. I laugh when we talk about our 24-hour adventure in Norway, climbing mountains and sneaking food from hotel buffets. Each story brings more laughs and more adventures to look forward to. He has never said no to any travel idea or physical endeavor. Whether it’s personal aspirations of biking 10,000 miles a year or visiting all 50 states before the age of 55, he has goals with plans of reaching them. I feel lucky to be part of a family where adventures are encouraged and often mandatory. 

There are many lessons I have learned from my Dad: mental toughness, when to save money, where to spend money, proper maintenance of a road bike, landing a job, and how to crack a beer with my class ring, just to name a few. But, the lesson that has stuck like glue is the sense of adventure he instilled in me from the time I was a young girl. 

Dad, thanks for always being willing to share your knowledge and expertise. I look forward to hearing about your upcoming adventures and maybe even sharing a few with you. Happy Father’s Day. 

P.S. While most family members can attest to a certain competitive edge we share, I couldn’t ask for a better person to be equated with. 

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