Hiking the Hills

“The angel of God, who had been going before the camp of Israel,

moved and went behind them…stood behind them.” Exodus 14:19 nasb

It’s time again to pull out the pack and sleeping bag. What began as my husband’s dream has become a secret obsession for me. Actually, it’s an unfinished challenge. This year, I wasn’t sure if I would be on the trail or sitting in base camp because one or both of our sons would be going along. Either way, I’d be sleeping in a tent, cooking over a fire, and slapping mosquitoes.

Not many women like to camp and even fewer are crazy enough to lug a 25-lb backpack as they hike 6-10 miles a day, drink water filtered from a creek, or use a trowel to dig a hole when the urge hits. At the end of the day, we set up camp, either our tent or in a provided lean-to. My husband cooks our one-pot supper on a tiny stove, we eat, clean up, stow our food and meal trash in a bear bag which we hang from in a tree or secure in a provided bear box.

Camping has always been a part of our 38-yr marriage. Early on, when my husband served in the Air Force and received orders to report to Elmendorf AFB, Alaska (Anchorage) we loaded every inch of our little car for the move. For seven nights we set up our heavy canvas wall tent and for eight mornings we folded it back up and continue the 1500-mile drive.

The first few days we repacked the car differently each morning, until we figured out the best configuration to make our daily chore more efficient.

We marked some of the tent poles with black electrical tape to make pitching the tent quicker (a makeshift color-code system).

After one of our air mattresses ended up flat by morning, my husband cut part of our siphoning hose and secured it into each blowhole with some of that black tape. They continued to lose air, but this kept them even and neither of us ended up sleeping on an airless mattress. It was an adventure.

No matter what we did, no matter how we did it, like with the Israelites camped in the wilderness, God, Emmanuel was with us. He led us. He stood with us. He had our backs.

Me on the Appalachian Trail near I-90 in Massachusetts

Fast forward to today and you’ll find a tiny light weight two-person tent and self-inflating one-inch pads for under our down filled sleeping bags stuffed in our packs. Our feet will probably get a few blisters, my rotator cuff inflammation will flare up, and as we trek a section of the Centennial Trail in the Black Hills of South Dakota the Lord will go with us.

What's your favorite adventure?