Child-Led Hikes: A Mindful Parenting Practice Worth Trying

Gorgeous Views of Tennessee River

This past Saturday, I spent 4 slow, beautiful hours hiking a 1.5-mile loop near the Tennessee River with my girls as part of a child-led hike hosted by Forest Families of Chattanooga. The sun was shining, the temperature was in the 40s, and it felt like the perfect winter day for a nature walk. What made this experience so magical, though, wasn’t the weather—it was how the entire pace and purpose of the hike were transformed by the kids leading the way.

We were there with a group called Forest Families, which hosts child-led nature walks. The concept is simple, but profound: let the children set the pace, choose when to pause, and decide where to explore. No adult agenda. No timeline. Just letting nature and curiosity guide the experience.

At first, my girls took off with enthusiasm. We made great progress for the first 20 minutes—until we reached a stunning clearing along the Tennessee River. While my daughters were ready to move on after a brief exploration and a few rock tosses, the other kids were perfectly content staying put. They climbed on boulders, scavenged the brush, tossed stones into the water, and simply existed—fully immersed in nature for over an hour.

I noticed my girls struggling with the stillness. Their impatience echoed what I’ve modeled during hikes in the past: keep it moving, soak up the view, and move along after 10 or 15 minutes. But today was different. The kids weren't following a trail—they were leading it. And mine weren’t used to that.

We broke off a couple of times to explore side trails and even did relay races to pass the time. Still, the repeated “Can we keep going?” was starting to wear me down. I was close to calling it and heading back to the car.

Then, my daughter tripped on a tree root. Dirty knees, tears, and cries of “I want to go home” echoed through the woods. And I almost gave in. But I remembered something the walk leader had said earlier at the river:

“It takes at least 45 minutes for children to fully drop into free play.”

My 8-year old soaking up the winter sun

That stuck with me. Whether scientifically proven or not, it made sense. My girls rarely get that much uninterrupted, open-ended play—especially in nature. And anything new, as we know, can feel deeply uncomfortable at first.

So I took a deep breath, dropped into the discomfort with them, and reminded myself: let the kids be kids.

And that’s when everything shifted.

Later, down by another riverbank, I watched my girls bartering shells and rocks with other kids, hands muddy, faces bright. They were fully engaged—playing, exploring, creating. The need to "move on" had disappeared entirely. In fact, when the other kids decided it was time to continue, mine were begging to stay.

By the end of the hike, they were beaming. Dirty hands. Rosy cheeks. Hungry bellies. Happy hearts.

When I asked what they thought of the day, they said, “It was so much fun!”

The Real Lesson

Had I let my own discomfort with the slow pace of a child-led nature walk take over, I would’ve robbed them of one of the richest learning experiences of their lives. I’m so grateful I didn’t. We walked through that discomfort together—and what we found was a deeper connection to nature, to ourselves, and to each other.

In Health,

Hilary

PS – My biggest takeaway from today: Our children are mirrors of our energy. As adults with mature nervous systems, it’s our responsibility to regulate our own discomfort to create space for their joy, exploration, and growth. The more grounded we are, the more freedom they feel to be fully themselves.