Dear Superior Hiking Trail...

Dear Superior Hiking Trail,

May this letter suffice as a symbol of my gratitude towards you, your natural beauty, and the protection you provided during my first trip on the SHT.

Just as Dorothy’s path was guided by shimmering yellow bricks, I too was blessed with a bright yellow trail, mine comprised of the Birch Trees’ freshly fallen golden leaves that left the forest floor padded and hidden. And although I carried a heart, brain, and the courage required to traverse the heavily wooded forests of North Eastern Minnesota, my journey also seemed more closely aligned with the dream world than the real world.

“The real world” has never before been more subjective of a term, for we as a group have never been further removed from the natural world and so comfortably content in the bubble lives we each build for ourselves. As thankful as I am for the safe and convenient world I live in, oh how I long to once again pop that bubble.

When the thin, fluorescent edge of that bubble explodes it launches me high in the sky, gracefully descending like feathers from nests, my new reality slowly starts to come into focus. Beneath the canopy of sun torched limbs and bone chilled branches, the rules of my newly entered dimension set in. I am a human, in a forest, on a planet, and nothing else exists. The aftershocks of perpetual phone rings and eternal email dings slowly fade to black, creating space for sounds yet heard and sights yet seen. My priorities are flipped and my mission is clear: be alert, be calm, and be present.

Although beautiful to look at, the bright yellow forest floor disguises the icy ground for something it is not; flat and easy to traverse. Wickedly warped roots outstretch their limbs from the light-starved underworld, grasping for a single ray of the sun’s love. Primordial pools of mud and muck hoot and holler when one of our expensive, dry boots finds itself submerged. Freshly footed remnants of our non-human forest friends disclose their size & direction, but only if we choose to notice. The razor thin window between fall and winter that we find ourselves in makes me smile, for I know that in less than a week’s time, the ground I walk on will be submerged in fresh, icy powder, concealing the secrets of the forest floor until the new year’s first thaw. Winter white outs blot out the sun and turn the lake to a mirror, letting storm clouds see themselves and admire their own power of provision. For without them, life on Earth’s surface would cease to exist.

The year is 2023, but only amidst the delusion that is my programmed mind. This scene knows no tiks and cares nothing of toks, for the sun, moon, and stars intervene as our daily clocks. How long would it be before I lost track of the days, months, and years? As I trek deeper into the woods and simultaneously deeper into the past, one of my favorite feelings is knowing that my eyes are looking out upon the exact same scene as someone who came long before me. What thoughts went through their mind? What were they inspired to do after seeing such a view? Who did they want to share it with?

In our group of four, my favorite role is to bring up the rear, for my journey cares more for the beauty surrounding each step as opposed to the quantity of steps gained. I want the stillness of the forest to consume me, to confront me, and to pierce through the remnants of daily life that linger on my racing mind. We start out in a closely knit pack, but as two steps of theirs soon equal one of my own, the distance between us begins to stretch. Their voices, once booming and disruptive, soon are swallowed by the symphony of crickets, birds, squirrels, and trees that remind me I am a guest here, far from my own home. The stillness I yearn for becomes most palpable when I come to a full stop. Heavy breaths from an oversized backpack vacuum up the crisp and pure lakeside air, cleansing my lungs and renewing my mind, wiping my startup disk clean and allowing for new thoughts to emerge.

You, the Superior Hiking Trail, showed me a side of the world I had never experienced, and never thought I would experience. The vastness of your lake humbled me and forced me to remember my own relative size. A lake who has enjoyed countless sunrises and sunsets before I ever arrived on your banks will surely feel the sun’s heat on its surface for thousands of years after I am gone. A mere split second over the course of millennia, my time spent by your side was special and I will cherish the challenge, the cold, and the calm that you so graciously gave.

Thank you.

BK