Sometimes, a warning is best heard if it is never spoken

The father stood on the bridge, watching his children splash around in the stream that flowed down the largely dry riverbed. “Go up further,” he shouted, pointing. “It’s deeper there, you can swim. Go up, go up!”

What a difference from the parenting culture I’m accustomed to (though not my immediate family — my parents would have shouted much the same thing). But generally in the world I come from, the parent on the bridge is more likely to be heard shouting, “Be careful! Come back! Enough now, you’ll fall and drown. You’ll slip and hit your head. The sun is hot. You’ll get tired, come back. BE CAREFUL! DON’T SLIP! DON’T DIE!!”

Earlier that day, we encountered a New Zealander couple with two daughters, about 10 and 15, off to Angels Landing. This hike in Utah’s Zion National Park is strongly labelled ‘strenuous’, with many warnings about steep drop-offs and unsteady footing. There are chains embedded in the rock for a lot of the way, so exposed are the slopes and their walkers to 1,000 feet (and more) drops to the canyon floor below.

The family was clearly looking forward to the adventure and the father grinned at his daughters as the dutiful warning, including number of fatalities, played over the shuttle bus speakers. At the trail head, they set off like a mini-herd of mountain goats, and we’d catch them only because they frequently stopped for pictures, when we’d exchange cameras and take photos of each other. When the steep exposed sections began, there was no voice-over of doom from either parent and two young girls got an important lesson in independence and “can-do”.

The older daughter and mother decided not to hike the last steepest, most exposed section, but the little girl just marched ahead. Her father would occasionally call out in encouragement, but at no point did he baby her or lift her or worry her about the many ways she could die at that particular moment.

Don’t for a second think that I’m advocating a carefree whimsy where you collect your nearest and dearest and skip hand in hand up mountains with no mind for the undependability of bi-pedal footing and the dependability of the cruel tug of gravity. Our mountain goat family was well prepared: proper hiking shoes, sensible clothes, high physical fitness, water and food. They had picked a dry day with good visibility and had an early start, before those narrow chain areas got crowded. Risks were acknowledged and then minimised.

And the reward was tremendous. To be perched so high above the valley floor, to look back over the ridge in disbelief that they had just crossed something that fearsome, to set off with nervous anticipation of the descent — these are the days that make it all mean something.

The culture of doom on the other hand, bequeaths children with constant anxiety and misplaced fear of anything new. Every cliff edge will pull you over, every puddle will drown you, every cute dog on a leash will savage you, every new food will make you ill, every new activity will maim you. Reading about “helicopter parenting” and the death of outdoor play, I know that this thinking is widespread,

But out there in the National Parks, it’s such a joy to see so many families with confident, able children, dressed in hiking shoes, holding hiking poles and setting out into the world. Their parents are watchful, but understand that sometimes being there to catch their little ones means trailing ten steps behind, and that sometimes a warning is best heard if it is never spoken.

Gautam Raja is a journalist based in the US