What is your rose, something good, from today? How about your thorn, a low point, from today? A bud, something you’re looking forward to?
This reflection exercise was a staple during our week on Isle Royale. Though each day had its thorns, it’s the roses I remember the most.
The biggest thorn of our first day? The hike. The rose? Being on the island. Bud? Our new plan.
Rather than hike 40 miles in the next 6 days, we all decided it was best if we take it easy – relax a few days at Huginnin Cove, then a few days at Washington Creek. This ended up being the perfect plan and exactly what we needed.
The Latrine
We cozied up in our tents that night after watching the sunset over Lake Superior as we sipped peppermint tea. A lovely end to a wild day.
Until I woke up several hours later with a full bladder.
A few campsites down, over an expanse of gnarled roots that we called “root city” and its sprawling rocky suburbs was the bathroom. A quaint outhouse nestled amongst the trees atop a small hill. There was no way I could travel this alone, so I’d hold onto either Livi or Ashley’s shoulders and we’d shuffle our way as they described the trail ahead.
Thoughts raced. I can’t wake them up…it’s our first night…it’s too much to ask…I’ve put them through enough already…If only I could go myself…
Desperate, I placed my lantern by my tent’s door and crawled off to the bushes that were nearby. Even though everyone was sound asleep, I felt so embarrassed, so exposed.
The next day I confessed and was reassured that I could of waken one of my friends up. Deep down, I knew this was true. But in the moment, that truth was masked by all my worries. It pained me that I couldn’t do such a simple necessity as going to the bathroom by myself, which led me to think irrationally.
What could’ve prevented this whole incident? Communication. Looking back, I wish I had started a conversation about the possibility of needing a guide at night. Though this experience was a thorn in the moment, the bud of it was coming to this realization.
Roses of the Huginnin Cove outhouse? Our commutes, which were often filled with laughs, singing, enjoyable conversation, and stunning views of Lake Superior. Also, the comfort I gained from traveling the route regularly and trusting my friends with guiding me. Our first few visits to the latrine involved quite a bit of me stepping on Ashley or Livi’s heels as I cautiously shuffled along. In the following days, we practically danced through “root city” and its rocky outskirts.
A New Way of Hiking
Most of our days at Huginnin Cove were spent on the rocky beach near our campsite, gawking at rocks, journaling, and relaxing. One sunny day, we decided to take a day hike to explore the trail we’d be taking to Washington Creek the next day.
Reflecting on our initial hike, I realized a few things. I wasn’t using my sense of touch and trying to use what vision I had wasn’t worth it. All my brain power was focused on trying to interpret the little I could see. I couldn’t focus on listening to Ashley and Livi or interpret what was below my feet. Too much information all at once, and yet, a lackof information.
Too much information all at once. Two, three years ago however, it was all the information I needed. In Maine, I was able to hike up a mountain with the vision I had, verbal descriptions, and my agile feet. With the vision I had, I was able to see part of my fellow hikers and trail ahead of me, as well as part of the surrounding beauty.
Now, with a narrower field of vision, I could only focus on part of one of those three. A thorn I had to accept.
Accepting this thorn led to a bud, an opportunity, and so, so many roses.
As a “just in case” I had packed my white cane. I also packed Frasier’s leash as a comfort to hold. Just maybe, I could use my cane to detect rocks, roots, and other changes in the trail, and attach Frasier’s leash to Ashley’s backpack to serve as extra guidance. We tried it out on our little day hike and oh, how that changed everything.
No longer, did Ashley or Livi need to tell me every single detail about the trail, I could figure it out for myself and judge how I wanted to move around obstacles. By using my cane, I could gauge how narrow the trail was, what part of the trail was washed out and my proximity to it, which rock to step on and how far away that rock was. Receiving this information in this way gave me confidence and a sense of security.
Being connected to Ashley by Frasier’s leash gave me assurance. Through the leash, I could gauge my distance from her, so I wasn’t constantly stepping on her heels. I felt safe by being connected, because I could feel exactly where I needed to be on the trail. Most importantly, I felt the comfort of being guided by someone I could trust. This day hike allowed us to work out the kinks of this system in preparation for our hike the next day.
From this hike, I grew fonder of my white cane I resisted using for so long. I grew so fond in fact, that I gave it a name, Twig.
The next day we said our goodbyes to Huginnin Cove. With our backpacks strapped and our water bottles filled with icy Lake Superior water (filtered, of course), we hit the trail towards Washington Creek. This hike was a total 180 of the one on our first day. With our new system, we flew down the trail. My confidence was high but occasionally challenged by the single-plank boardwalks we encountered. As we continued to cross these boardwalks with our new system, I grew more comfortable with every shuffled step.
Unlike our first hike, I was able to take in the beauty that surrounded us, rather than strain to see what obstacles lay ahead. It was a beautiful hike and we made it to our campsite with plenty of time to settle into our new home for the next few days.
Our Finals Days on the Island
Our time camping at Washington Creek differed greatly from our time in Huginnin Cove. We went from lakeshore seclusion to bustling activity. Being close to the hub of Windigo, we visited the visitor center, store, and watched boats and seaplanes from the dock. We explored nearby trails and were starstruck by moose.
The only thorn? The store being out of pizza. We settled for Pringles. Anyways, I digress.
Another stark difference between our two campsites was the latrine situation. This time, our campsite was near the outhouse! The trail was narrow, but easy to follow with my white cane. Little rocks or roots obstructed the way, and after just a few trips with Livi or Ashley, I was able to travel to and from the outhouse with just my cane. It was truly a wonderful feeling.
Isle Royale holds a special place in my heart, for the time spent in nature with friends, its beauty, and the lessons my experience backpacking taught me. Through the adversity – of finding a new way of hiking to opening up about my needs through self-advocacy, I’ve realized my resilience.
I also recognize my privilege for even being able to go backpacking. Social and physical barriers, such as cost, transportation, time, and other barriers limit its accessibility too so many.
Backpacking can be a transformative experience, but so can everyday experiences. Self-growth doesn’t need to happen out in the wilderness. We all face adversity and learn about ourselves in diverse ways, but through connecting with ourselves and others, we can do more than we thought possible.
Photo Descriptions
Featured photo: Shannon and Ashley stand with their backpacks on smiling at the camera. In one hand, Shannon holder her white cane and in the other, she holds onto the end of a dog leash which is attached to Ashley’s backpack. White text reads Backpacking Blind on Isle Royale Part 2: Rose, Thorn, Bud in handwritten font.
Photo 1: Shannon smiles next to a boardwalk. She is wearing her backpack and holding her white cane. Lush vegetation surrounds the boardwalk.
Photo 2: Taken from an overlook, this photo shows the lush, green forests of Isle Royale and the big, blue sky above.