A Three-Hour Tour


Never go into the woods with Bill. That has always been my rule. Ever since that one time, when I was standing next to him in the woods, furiously swatting mosquitos and he was just standing there seemingly oblivious to the bugs and they to him. It has been a good rule. One that I had abided by for years, until yesterday. After considerable coaxing from my wife and with much trepidation we joined Bill and his denizens of the woods for a three-hour tour. The local chapter of the North Country Trail association had organized a four-and-a-half-mile hike down near St. Ignace. This hike was just a warmup for today’s Mackinac Bridge walk, which is a 30,000 people annual event. Yesterday, there was less than twenty of us. I knew that I was in trouble almost from the beginning. When we reached a rallying point only half-a-mile in, I thought of turning back, but I pressed on trudging along, one foot in front of the other. It really was not all that bad. There were almost no bugs, except at the end. Marching up and down the ancient sand dunes was tiring, but at their tops, there was nice cooling breeze. I pressed on regardless and eventually made it back to the parking lot, where our car awaited. Anne and I drove back to the cabin together, where I showered, and I felt like a new man. I was glad that I had done the hike, and I was even more glad that it was over.

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