Google shows a 27-minute drive from Judge C.R. Magney State Park to Cascade River State Park. It is a short trip. A drive you wouldn’t think about. A drive with sealed windows and air conditioning where the radio murmurs its dull drawl. Quick, neat, efficient. Like driving to work or taking the bus.
Instead, our group left the van for the Superior Hiking Trail. Instantly, the world shifted. Every step demanded engagement. Cedar roots grasped at my boots as friendly but firm reminders to look down and pay attention. Rocky inclines sapped my calves, gently challenging me to slow down, to become part of this place rather than merely passing through.
After hours of walking, I reached an overlook and stopped. Below me, the trees spread endlessly. Cedars and spruces stood side by side, not blended but forming individual brushstrokes on the vast canvas of the north woods. The horizon shimmered softly, a blurred line where water from Lake Superior met sky. Clouds drifted lazily overhead, pale and unhurried.
Standing there, breathing slowly, it was easy to feel small. On foot, the same world I’d sped by in sealed comfort became boundless and awe-inspiring. These are the moments I seek and treasure.
Much of our lives are spent in boxes made of metal and glass–but when you walk intentionally around 27 minutes of asphalt stretched into seven slow days of hiking trail, you rediscover the wonder lost.
By: Patrick O’Connell (camper turned counselor)
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