After two rounds of power-washing the vest with an industrial strength powder, Saul demanded a third, because the faint, lingering whiff of petroleum was driving him crazy. When I refused, he was devastated. I tried my best to be a good sport about all of this — to act like I was relishing the setbacks. The idea of embracing discomfort, after all, was a big part of why I wanted to bring Saul to the Badlands in the first place. (To protect his privacy, I’m referring to my son by his middle name.) It was here, in what is now North Dakota, that Saul’s hero, Teddy Roosevelt, worked as a cattleman and ultimately transformed himself from a soft coastal aristocrat into an avatar of frontier grit and vigor. I hoped that by learning more about Roosevelt’s metamorphosis — and by hiking through the hard land where it happened — Saul might come to appreciate, or at least tolerate, what Teddy called “the strenuous life.” This was my secret goal for our very first father-son journey: to nudge Saul to be a bit more resilient.