Footprints For Change

Tag: Superior Hiking Trail

  • Balance Over Obstacles

    Balance Over Obstacles

    On July 4, 2020, I began my 310-mile trek on the Superior Hiking Trail (SHT).

    By hiking the SHT, I chose to speak out against racial injustice in the United States— brought to light by the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis. (Read more) 

    I began my hike at the Wisconsin/Minnesota border and ended at the Canadian border. I completed my 310+ mile hike on July 28, 2020.

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

    The SHT is a rough trail with lots of roots, mud holes, and rocks, which I tripped over and stepped in many. I also slipped countless times. With each trip and fall, I was supported by my trekking poles. It was a reminder to get back up and to keep moving. For a lot of reasons, but one in particular, I was hiking the future generations.

    For centuries, walking sticks have served many purposes: support for traveling on uneven ground, as a survival tool, as a defensive weapon, and gradually as a sign of power and authority.

    Think of the wise mandrill monkey, Rafiki, in The Lion King. He carried his staff—or a walking stick for those wanting the correlation to hiking. Trekking poles are an extension of that staff.

     

    As with Rafiki, the trekking poles allowed me to tune into nature and connect meaningfully with my ancestors who walked the land before me. The Indigenous spirits paved a safe passage. The trekking poles allowed me to bushwhack through tall grass and determine the depth of the marshy ground.

    On other hikes, I’ve left my poles holstered, but I kept them in hand for the majority of this hike. Trekking poles help maintain balance over obstacles. I can say that my trekking prevented sprained ankles and one potentially sprained knee.

    In all the ways my trekking poles protected me during my hike, I still thought about the joint-locks and takedowns, when poles are used as weapons—snapshot glimpses of welts and bruises left on the backs of enslaved people. Sadly, those methods aren’t in the past. Watching the news, we see highlights of police officers in riot gear with batons (aka “riot sticks”) in hand at Black Lives Matter (BLM) protests.

    My partner met me at the Northern Terminus. We planned to hike the summit overlook together (I was told a lot of thru-hikers end their hike at the trailhead, which is a parking lot. I don’t recommend that option).

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

    When she arrived, she brought her two dogs and my dog Carma. Together, we all hiked the final mile to the overlook. As we walked, the message of control and the treatment of enslaved people played in my mind.

    When we reached the summit, Carma wanted to be carried. I jokingly started singing The Circle of Life from The Lion King, holding her over the edge of the overlook — back to Rafiki, the trekking poles, the missed mishaps, the welts, and bruises inflicted upon Black flesh. The death of George Floyd, a Black man who died while being restrained by a white Minneapolis police officer.

    George Floyd didn’t have trekking poles. George Floyd will never summit the overlook and breathe in the air.

    I hiked 310 miles in honor of George Floyd, yet my journey felt incomplete at the end of 310 miles. 

    Still in Minnesota, on July 30, I drove to the George Floyd memorial site at 38th Street and Chicago Avenue in Minneapolis. There, I was flooded with emotions rounding the corner where George Floyd took his last breath. I knelt because I genuinely could not stand. I cried over the chalk outline of his body.

    Kneeling, it became clear that those poles were an agent of change. They can change how we approach relationships, from combatants to allies. Those trekking poles could lead to positive outcomes. If we all picked up trekking poles and went for a hike, could the violence end?

    Someone would have to put down their sticks. I put down my sticks (trekking poles) in a symbolic gesture and left them on the momentum. I imagine this is progress.

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

    Hike end: July 30, George Floyd Memorial at 38th Street and Chicago Avenue in Minneapolis, MN.

    P/C: on trail @dkap09  (minus selfie)

    P/C: memorial site @wanderingseagoat

  • SHT Total Thru-Hike Complete

    SHT Total Thru-Hike Complete

    SHT NOBO (Northbound, starting in Wisconsin ending at the Canadian border) Total thru-hike complete!

     

    Total miles: 310+ In the spirit of transparency, I hiked approximately nine SHT trail miles on the Gitchi-Gami Trail. 

    Trail start: July 4, 8:46 a.m. Southern Terminus, Wisconsin/Minnesota border 

    Trail end: July 28, Northern Terminus, Canadian border

    Hike end: July 30, George Floyd Memorial at 38th Street and Chicago Avenue in Minneapolis.

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

     

     

    Total days: 24 days total, of those it rained at some point 21 days.

    Days off: Three neros (nearly zero, meaning a partial day off-trail or not hiking).

    • Because of a storm: a trail angel in Grand Marais picked me up. I stayed with her family, went to a Black Lives Matter protest, and was a guest on WTIP Radio.                     
    • To dry gear, shower, and sleep in a bed at Superior Ridge Resort Motel. It was a bit more than I wanted to spend but worth it! The owners were friendly and kind enough to drive me into town to resupply.             
    • For a post office resupply and to soak my arm in a bathroom with soap (I was thinking poison oak). 

    Resupply: Two Harbor (post office). Beaver Bay (gas station/post office). Grand Marais (post office/grocery store).

    Shortest miles in a day: 8.46

    Longest miles in a day: 22 

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

    Gear change – – – 

    Pack: I started with the L.L. Bean AT 38 and switched to the Granite Gear Crown2 60 for more capacity when my tent failed me.         

                                  

    Shoes: I started with the L.L. Bean Alpine, and switched to the Arcteryx Norva after several days of rain, mudholes, and an inability to keep the boots and my socks dry. I later switched back to the Alpines.         

                               

    Socks: I started the journey with three pairs of socks, two for hiking and one for sleep. Due to conditions listed in the shoe section, the number grew to six, five hiking, and one for sleep.

     

    Tent: I wanted to love the Nemo Hornet Elite. I did. But after several days of rain, it failed me. I reverted to my Marmot EOS 1P.

     

    Animal encounters: Birds, a moose, and a cub. No harm came to me.

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

    Favorite section: I thoroughly enjoyed the area from the Cascade River to Bally Creek. Walking through the large red pine forest reminded me of my childhood in Florida.

     

    Least favorite section: I wasn’t too fond of the Sawmill Creek Pond Boardwalk. The boards were sunken, curved, slick, and missing in places. 

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

    Random SHT $h*t: I became pre-hypothermic due to rain, wet gear, and wet clothes—not severe or life-threatening, and thus, I live to write this story.

     

    SHT Personal ranking: ⭐⭐ ⭐⭐

    Volunteers and private landowners maintain the 310-mile hiking trail from Canada to Wisconsin. 

    The sections range from well-marked, well-maintained paths to mud and tall grass-covered barley visible sections.

    The SHT is a rough trail, lots of roots, mud, and rocks.

    You definitely should “Hike That SHT.”

     

    p/c: Instagram: dkap09

    p/c: Instagram: wanderingseagoat

  • Hiking While Black

    Hiking While Black

    Surprisingly, my trek has gotten a lot of attention. Granted, I intended to speak out about injustice in light of the death of George Floyd by thru-hiking the SHT. I feel strongly that social justice and environmental justice are intrinsically linked.

     

    I’ve encountered an array of people on my journey, including white people who seek me out for the following reasons: to talk about the ways they can eradicate racism, ask about ways to make ___ (fill in the blank) more inclusive, to take a picture with me (because they think I’m going to be famous), or they want to join the hike, to share they’ve helped a member of the BIPOC community and to prove they’re more “woke” than others (aka “performative activism”). 

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

     

    These interactions have been anxiety-provoking. But then, there are the parents who see me out to say hi. Introduce me to their kids, either have me explain why I’m hiking or say things like, “She’s out here making a difference.” I enjoy those folks because they are encouraging and remind me why I’m out here hiking. All and all, I’ve not encountered anything too problematic until today.

     

    Because of the folks generalized in paragraph two, I’ve been selective about who I share my location with to finish this hike. I’ve been in advance hiker mode, increasing my mileage daily. That’s uncommon along this trail (although thru-hiking in general is unusual).

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

    I set out early on my 21st day of the trail, thinking of George Floyd and his legacy. I imagined what the world would look like when everyone had the opportunity and freedom to explore and engage with Nature. 

     

    I envisioned the next generation who will follow in my footsteps. After hours of hiking, I had the option of stopping at a campsite at 16 miles or continuing to a small campsite directly off the trail, at 16.2 miles. I decided on the further one since I am trying to cover as much distance as possible.

     

    When I arrived, a woman met me, who made it clear that she didn’t want me near her campsite. Although there was plenty of space for both of us (even with social distancing), she encouraged me to “keep trekking.” 

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

    She informed me that a bigger campsite was just up the trail when I didn’t move. Referring to the one at 16.0 miles, I’d already passed since I was heading north.

     

    The sun hadn’t been out all day but shined perfectly where I sat. I hung my wet tent on a tree and my socks on a nearby bench. The woman whispered something to her male companion, and away the two went. 

     

    In all the annoyance I’ve experienced, I hadn’t yet felt unwelcome until I arrived at the North Bally Creek campsite. With a sense of entitlement, the white woman made my 16.2-day trek of dreams and hopes heavy. 

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

    I am carrying the weight of my people, the fear and unwelcoming presence of those who think I don’t belong in outdoor spaces—those who believe that Nature isn’t for people that look like me. 

    I felt unsafe at that campsite. Not physically, rather a sense that there was no peace for me in that space for that evening. I decided to backtrack after all, but I wrote a note to the woman first. On my way to the other campsite, she and her companion ran into me. They wanted to let me know that they checked the other campsite and had space.

    Ultimately, I stayed at the campsite at mile 16. I met other friendly hikers. 

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

    In a message to that woman and her partner, or anyone else who might need a reminder: NATURE IS FOR EVERYONE.

     

  • Lady Slippers

    On Saturday, July 4, 2020, I began my 300-mile thru-hike along the Superior Hiking Trail (SHT).

    This hike intends to raise money and awareness for PGM ONE, the People of the Global Majority in the Outdoors, Nature, and Environment.

    As a tribute to George Floyd, the hike began at 8:46 a.m. and ended at the first 8.46 miles. 

    I was joined by several white women who wanted to hike in solidarity with me as a stance against racial injustices in the US and to show their respect for George Floyd.

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>
     

    While on the trail, we were fortunate to see Minnesota’s state flower, the Lady Slipper. Perhaps due to a lot of recent rain, it was in bloom and plentiful. These flowers grow slowly, taking 4-16 years to produce their first flower. To see so many in bloom was symbolic.

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

    Like the social justice movements, Lady Slipper sometimes needs time to bloom. And like the beauty of the flowers, these movements can bring about significant and lasting change.


    Historical trauma has kept the outdoors from being a safe space for Blacks. The work PGM ONE is accomplishing is critical to correcting injustice. But my hike, and anyone who joins me along the way, are part of it as well.

    The Lady Slippers couldn’t have grown without each of the raindrops they received. And we need not just PGM ONE, not just me, but as many people as possible showing up to make the outdoors inclusive of everyone.

    We ended the 8.46 miles with a reflection circle. All and all, it was a fantastic thru-hike kick-off.

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>
  • Library Shack in the Woods

    Library Shack in the Woods

    I was warned that the Duluth section of the SHT might come with a few roadblocks (meant both literally and figuratively), but the views would be amazing. Both of these things were true.

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

    The roadblocks were plenty, and on my way out of Duluth, I found myself in what I have now termed the “endless Bagley loop.”

     

    Non-SHTA neighborhoods have made trails, bike trails, ski trails, spur trails, and overlooks. These made navigating difficult and frustrating because not all of them were on the maps.

     

    For nearly an hour, I circled the first (NOBO) campground directly on the trail. I was consulting my map, pocket guide, and phone. Finally, a young man in flip-flops directed me toward his family-made trail that would take me to a road.

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

    A deer that I’d seen previously and asked directions to aloud was on that path as well. The path led me out of the loop to the main road and (eventually) back to the trail.

    I found my way out of the loop and to Tom O’Rourke, the Hartley Nature Center executive director (HNC)—or he found me. Regardless, I met Tom during a massive storm that made foot travel hazardous, slippery, and ill-advised.


    We talked about the trails and the history of the HNC. We also spoke about canoeing and books. Tom mentioned he built a shack that he stocked with books in the middle of the woods.

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>

    Little did he know that one of my childhood dreams was to live in a cabin in the woods, filled with books and a typewriter for writing. There is something majestic about reading a good book during a lightning storm, and I was giddy with joy to see the Library Shack.

    The shack features several glass windows, a wood-burning stove, and access to his family-made backcountry trail. I can’t vouch much for the trail, as I didn’t venture too far.

    I highly recommend visiting The Hartley Nature Center, especially to thru-hikers who might want to set up camp at the Little Library Shack in the Woods.

    Enchantment can be found even amid the uncertainty of a thunderstorm, especially when good company and books are involved.

     

    <script async src=”https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-6139803315441080″
    crossorigin=”anonymous”></script>