One Step at a Time

by Donna Poole

Kimmee drove by the silver van parked on the backroad as we traveled home from parking lot church today. “That same van was here yesterday, and there’s a sign in the window.”

“I wonder what it says. Want to stop and see?” I asked.

Kimmee checked it out. “It says not to tow the vehicle because the owner is hiking on the North Country Trail and will return. What’s that trail?”

“I don’t know; I’ve never heard of it.”

Thank you, Safari search; before we got home Kimmee and I knew the trail is 4,800 miles long, the longest in the National Trails System. It extends across eight states from North Dakota to Vermont and includes Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York.

Our section of the trail in southern Michigan goes from the Kalamzoo/Barry County line to the Ohio/Michigan state line. Northcountytrail.org says, “Southern Michigan hosts a mix of forest and farm country that primarily follows multi-use pathways and temporary road walks. Hike over lush farmland and tramp the back roads of a part of Michigan where there are so many lakes they are referred to by number.”

“Tramp the back roads;” I like that. How have I lived here so long and not known about this amazing trail? Now I know why I’ve seen the occasional hikers on our gravel road, backpacks on, walking sticks in hand, looking half-dead!

I read more, wishing I could hike the amazing trail that “traverses through more than 160 federal, state, and local public lands, including 10 National Forests, four areas of the National Park Service, and over 100 state parks, forests, and game areas. It winds along three of the Great Lakes, past countless farmlands, through large cityscapes and vast prairies, and the famed Adirondacks.”

I’m ready to hike; who’s with me? Grab your walking stick!

There’s one tiny problem. Two years ago, before Morticia my lung tumor rearranged my life, I refused to go to bed until I’d walked my 10,000 daily steps. Pedometer in pocket, I kept walking the hall or around the living room every night until I hit the magic number. Back then, I was ready for a hike. Now I stagger from home to car to Rogel cancer center back to car to home to bed. That’s a slight exaggeration, but sadly, I no longer stagger down trails. That’s not to say I won’t hike again someday. I don’t plan to stagger either; I intend to walk the way I used to walk if I can only remember how!

Can you imagine the adventure of hiking the entire 4,800 miles of the North Country Trail from start to finish? Do you know how people accomplish that mighty feat? With their feet. Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Feat, feet, get it?

They hike those many miles one step at a time.

According to my research, if you’re an able bodied moderately active person, you’ll walk much farther than 4,800 miles in your lifetime. If you stay active until you’re eighty years old, you’ll walk 110,000 miles; that amounts to walking the circumference of the earth five times! Walking around the world five times sounds exhausting and impossible.

It happens one step at a time.

My husband, John, saw the lone hiker whose car had been parked on the backcountry road. She drove by us late this afternoon. I wish I could have talked with her to ask why she’d wanted to spend Memorial Day weekend hiking alone and how much of the beautiful North Country Trail she’d hiked. Was she a beginner? A seasoned traveler? Had the hike been difficult? I wonder if she found unexpected beauty, perhaps a fawn sleeping in a hedgerow.

I remember hiking a trail once I thought was going to kill me. The day was too hot for hiking; we were too tired, and we were probably too old, but we tackled it anyway. Down it took us into a steep ravine until leg muscles screamed. Up it forced us to the top until lungs panted and begged for mercy. Just when we thought we’d made it and were getting out alive, it took a cruel sharp turn and plunged us down again. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; both took too much needed energy. I suggested to John he carry me or call 9-1-1. He nixed both ideas; he said he couldn’t carry me so I’d have to keep walking, and he couldn’t call for help because we had no cell service.

When we finally emerged from the wilds into civilization, we saw two hikers about to begin that trail.

“Don’t do it!” I warned them. “It’s the trail from hell.”

They laughed.

“I’m not joking. It’s horrible. We barely got out alive.”

They laughed again. Down the trail they went. Poor souls, we never saw them again.

We did escape that terrible trail though. How? One step at a time.

In our metaphorical journeys we sometimes find ourselves on trails we never chose, expected, and don’t particularly like. We may even feel like calling them the trails from hell. But we aren’t walking alone.

We have a Guide who always comes when we call for help. And when we get too tired; He’ll carry us and point out beauty along the way. We may even see a fawn sleeping in a hedgerow. As soon as our Guide knows we’re strong enough to continue, He’ll set us down and tell us to keep walking. If we complain the day is too hot for hiking; we’re too tired, and we’re probably too old, He’ll tell us to get going anyway because that’s how our spiritual muscles become strong.

When I’m not especially fond of my trail, I trust my Guide and keep walking, because I know these byways, happy and sad, are leading me Home.

But if it’s all the same to my Guide, I wouldn’t mind hiking a little of the beautiful North Country Trail before I walk His streets of gold. Either way, I’ll keep walking. One step at a time.

“A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps.” –Proverbs 16:9