My Dad had us camping as infants. I remember camping in Yellowstone in 1955 and watching the big shadows of bears against the canvas all night long. Dad took out his 38 cal revolver and we followed the tracks the next morning. In retrospect, it was the day I knew I wanted to have a career in the outdoors.
We started backpacking without adults at age 12. We spent a week on an island in Cheasapeake Bay when we were 12, and then again a year later.
My great grandfather used to take the whole family in wagons up to MT. St. Helens for 2 weeks every summer and climb the peak. He lost his leg in a mining accident, and used a wooden prosthetic.