I could not physically go on. After walking sunrise to sunset miles down a mountain and then miles back up, I was d-o-n-e done.
In fact, I was not sure I could make it from the large rock where I sat to where we were supposed to pitch tents for the night. My feet felt as if each toe was on fire.
SunFloJo [trail name] returned from scouting the campsite while the group of us stayed with the backpacks and overnight equipment.
I confessed, “I don’t think I can do this another day. It is your dream to hike all week and you should not miss the chance. I’m slowing you down, and I’ve thought it through. I absolutely will be fine if you leave me behind. I’ve got a book. And I am sure I’ll be safe. You must go on without me.” I even carried a fairly lethal knife that my oldest son insisted I have in my pocket during the trip. Whether bears or other probs, I would be fine. My biggest challenge would be disappointment in myself as I watched the other women leave me behind.
I gauged her facial expression to be a mix of “so true that you are slowing us down and yet no, I can’t leave you alone“.
I hobbled to camp and collapsed for a while as daylight slipped into night sky.
My mind spun around options regarding what to do next. I felt beyond grateful to no longer have a sweaty back and backpack attached. The group ate and laughed.
We placed food or items that might cause animal smell curiosity into a bear box.
The bear box was a new concept for me. I marveled at its purpose and convenience. To prepare for the trip we had brought a bear bag and rope to place items away from us and up a tree. This night, though, we had the fancy metal box. It felt like we had a community chest of drawers out in the woods. I appreciated the safety and kindness of the bear box.
One Benadryl later, I fell asleep too tired to wonder what that scurry sound was swishing by my single person tent.
Birds became my alarm clock that week. I lay thinking hard about what it would take to continue the trail.
What if half of what I had been carrying simply stayed behind in the bear box? Could we swing back by this place at the end of the week when we have access to a car again?
Long story short, that is what we did. Everyone, especially me, lightened our load. The bear box held the burden. I dared to lace up hiking boots again and head back to the trail knowing the next stop did not have the convenience of a bear box. The next stop we planned to be much deeper in the woods. I didn’t want to miss the next level challenge.
The bear box has become a mental metaphor for me when times are tough. What can I leave behind for now? What do I need to deal with today, tonight, and leave the rest for later?
In many ways, the bear box represented my faith during that trip.
Best wishes to you this week. If you can’t carry the burden, feel free to stick it in the metaphorical bear box for now.
Matthew 11:28-30 2829 your 30