Hiking blindfolded at midnight

Hiking at midnight is an unusual experience. So much so that you might think it would a one-time experience in a lifetime. Not so, I've done it twice.

The first time was on a college wilderness trip in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Our goal had been to hike through the woods to the beach along Lake Superior. It was getting late, and our hope was to spend the night on the beach. But it got dark, we got lost, and one of my friends twisted her ankle. From where we stood, we could hear the waves hitting the sand and it seemed that the beach had to be very close. Two of the others volunteered to push ahead to the beach, drop their packs, and return to help the girl with the twisted ankle. It seemed to be a sound plan, so off they went while the rest of us waited...and waited. Finally, when it seemed obvious that they weren't coming back any time soon, one of our guides made the decision that she would hike to the beach. She asked for a volunteer, and for some reason, I volunteered. Maybe I just didn't want to stand around in the middle of the dense brush in the dark.

In order to make our way to the beach we had to bushwhack. The kind of hiking where you push through the brush, without a trail--it's a slow and tedious process. We were bushwhacking in the dark. I followed behind our guide, holding onto her pack. She held a flashlight and a map. We inched our way forward. All I could see was the ground directly beneath my feet and the back of her pack in front of me. The ground was uneven and I kept losing my balance. There were rocks to stumble over and the brush was scraping my arms and face. We finally made it to the beach around daybreak. I helped gather wood for a fire. I filled my canteen with water from the lake. Then I fell sound asleep. Within a few hours, the various parts of our group emerged from the woods and we reassembled. They were all drawn by the signal fire.

The second occasion was a few years later. I was spending a summer in Colorado studying sculpture. Jeff, our professor, was a little bit crazy and a lot of fun. He was big on experiential learning. And he had a penchant for surprises.

One afternoon at the end of class, he told us to meet him that night around eleven. He instructed us to dress warmly and to wear good walking shoes. Our small class gathered that evening, all a little excited to see what new adventure was in store for us. Jeff showed up in his pickup truck and told us all to jump in the back. We did and he drove us up the mountain. We were joking in the back and telling stories. After a while, Jeff pulled the truck over to the side of the road. It was dark out and we didn't seem to be anywhere particularly special.

As we got off the truck, Jeff handed each of us a blindfold and told us to put it on. We all obeyed. Jeff told us to hold hands and form a line. Then he led us up the mountain. It was dark, and even if we tried to cheat we really couldn't see anything. We were all tripping on the undergrowth and so we soon developed a system. The people at the head of the line would call out each obstacle they encountered so those in the back could be prepared.

None of us had any idea where we were going. We couldn't see what was ahead. We were depending on the person who was leading us. But we were traveling together as a group, each of us looking out for the needs of the others.

This went on for a while. In the end, we made it to the top of the mountain and Jeff had us remove our blindfolds. It was June, but there was still some snow on the ground. We were looking over a valley and across to where two different mountain ranges met. There was a full moon and lots of stars and it was totally silent and beautiful.

There are times in our lives where following God is like hiking at midnight. We don't know exactly where we're going. We don't hold the map. The ground may be unsteady beneath our feet. We have to hold on to our guide. We travel with others and we are responsible to care for each other. In the end, we will find something beautiful.