I have maps of the North Country Trail between the Michigan/Ohio state line and the Mackinac Bridge. The pages are highlighted, dated, sweat-stained, dirty, and torn from endlessly moving in and out of my pocket. They are taped together and dotted with post-it notes that outline and document my evolving plan. They are irreplaceable.
I hike bits of the trail here and there, depending on where I am or where I am headed. It sounds more complicated than it is. I log where I have been and piece the segments together. I plan my hikes so I can pick up where I left off or connect from the other direction. When I link the parts, I (obsessively) backtrack a little, so I am certain that I will have walked every single step of the NCT.
“Roads” in northern Michigan vary in quality from major highways to snowmobile trails. My GPS doesn’t distinguish passable roads from two tracks that have deteriorated into rollercoaster-like paths that contain sand traps. GPS doesn’t care that I drive a Sonic, either. I imagine calling roadside assistance, “What were you thinking, Lady?” I shudder slightly with embarrassment from the imagined scenario. This is the potential situation I found myself in after following the directions to “Townline Trailhead.” I parked because my GPS said the trailhead was .7 miles further along this “road.” “I’ll walk,” I thought. I grabbed my backpack and water bottle and set out with great hope of finding the elusive trailhead. The day was already hot, and the road cut through an area where trees had been clear-cut and left like corpses. It made me sad. Sad was the tone of the short hike.
The road led nowhere and I was glad I walked. My Sonic wouldn’t have made it through the sand. By the time I got back to my car, I was extremely frustrated and decided to go back to Illinois. As I drove back to the main road, I realized that the tree laying over the footbridge probably wouldn’t be there in a week and certainly wouldn’t be there in the spring. Without that marker, I would have to hike Friday’s six miles again. With renewed determination, bordering on fury, I turned around and headed for the road called “Townline.” Surely “Townline Trailhead” would be on “Townline Road.” I would simply drive from one end to the other if necessary.
Luckily for me, GPS led me to an intersection where Townline Road was dirt in one direction and paved in the other. “Trailheads are on dirt roads,” I reasoned as I chose a direction. About five long miles later, my heart soared when I saw a blue blaze indicating the NCT. I FOUND IT! I drove another five miles on a nearly washed-out road renewing my resolve to buy a vehicle that could manage these adventures. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins. The end of this crazy challenge was near. Maybe. When I arrived, I recognized the place. I had been there on 8/31/21 according to the penciled date on the map. There was a bench overlooking a bow of the Manistee River. The view was spectacular as it always is along this river. I took a deep breath, oriented myself and headed west.
As I settled into the hike, I was relieved and excited about the prospect of completing this segment of the trail. It didn’t even matter that I was getting a late start home and would get stuck in traffic. I was finally going to connect these two sections. Finally!
I came over a ridge and rounded a corner as the path led down into a valley. There, I saw the footbridge. Already. I just stared at it. I double-checked the picture I took Friday. I took another picture and I checked the mileage. I was .1 mile from the trailhead. I laughed. And laughed. I shook my head as I walked back to the car because there was nothing else to do. Just like that, the section was complete. I could have easily finished Monday if I had just gone up the valley to the next ridge. These adventures are unpredictable.
I was pleased as I drove slowly back to a paved road and then further to a bigger paved road that would lead me home. I thought about the glorious weekend of camping and hiking. Finishing this section of the trail was the perfect way to end it.
As I drove, feeling content and accomplished, I thought about the two pictures I took. Suddenly I realized I hadn’t walked across the bridge. I DIDN’T WALK ACROSS THE BRIDGE. Panic rose and quickly turned to resigned laughter for the ridiculous extremes I had gone to attempting to hike every step of the trail, only to fail in such an obvious way. I laughed more when I realized I had the perfect diptych to showcase the part of the NCT that I didn’t hike.
I read Tao the Watercourse Way to fill twilight hours this weekend. In it, Watts quotes Lao Tzu; “Without laughter, there would be no Tao.” Who better to laugh at than ourselves?