From right: Mayor Mary Janacaro Hensleigh of Whitehall, Montana; Mary; and Shannon.

I took off from Butte not exactly sure where I was going. As I was about to embark on a very sun-exposed walk of about 20 miles with almost no water I met Derby, a really kind hiker. We wove our way together up and down the dirt road, his young legs encouraging me to walk faster than I would have done alone. Together we realized that if we were to get to water that evening we would be walking close to 24 miles into the town of Whitehall. When we hit some agricultural sprinklers watering a field of alfalfa, we stopped and stood while the sprinklers made two passes over us. We reveled in the coolness of that water in the excessive heat. It was nice to have a hiking companion to share that pleasure with, especially because I know he could have walked faster and left me in the dust.

When we hit a paved road four miles from town, I had to sit and take a break. A muscle in my groin was taking a beating from the over-three-mile-per-hour pace I had managed to walk while carrying a lot of water. I sat while Derby pushed on to town.

On the verge of tears, I stuffed some food into my face and huddled under my umbrella for shade, even though it was already near 6 p.m. Eventually, I got myself standing again. I called Karen, who hummed for me a Sousa march to give me the energy to keep going. A pickup truck came by and the couple inside asked if I wanted a ride.

Of course I wanted a ride, but I was not going to take it. I explained I was trying to walk a continuous line from Canada to Mexico and had just 700 miles to go. I thanked them for stopping. Then I mentioned I wouldn’t mind walking without my pack. They threw my pack in their truck, and we made arrangements for me to hike down the road, past their house.

It was wonderful to hike packless. In trail terminology, we call this slack packing. It was just what my limping body needed. I thought about the trust it took to throw my pack with absolutely everything I had except for my hiking poles into the back of a stranger’s truck. I can’t say how I knew they were kind people. Maybe some of it was desperation, but a lot of it was trust. And sure enough, about two miles down the road, when I went past their farm house, Shannon came out to greet me with cold water. She asked me if I liked pizza and suggested they meet me in town in a while with a pizza. She also told me she had called the mayor, who informed her I could set up camp behind Town Hall! Things were looking up.

Shannon pointed out a dirt path I could walk to town, which was easier on my body than the paved road. I called her when I arrived in town two more miles down the road. They met me, and we had a lovely pizza dinner at the picnic table behind Town Hall.

Then the mayor came by. It was Sunday evening, and Mayor Mary Janacaro Hensleigh had company, but she left her home to open the building for me. She gave me towels and showed me where I could shower. She gave me access to electricity to charge my phone and battery pack. She made sure I had water and ran an extension cord to the picnic table so i could run the fan she provided! She apologized that the grass was not recently mowed! Best of all she shared her story with me, which included breaking the gender barrier and becoming the first woman elected mayor of this town.

By the time everyone left, I was exhausted. I showered, handwashed my clothes, and was just crawling in my tent to sleep when Derby and his hiking buddy came by! There was no room at the one motel in this town of about 1,100 people, and they had heard about Town Hall as an option.

People ask why I hike. It is for experiences such as these as much as it is about walking in nature. I am met with so many instances of what we call trail magic that I can’t help but put worry aside and go with the flow, meandering where the trail takes me, one step at a time.

There is a saying out here: The trail provides. Today I am taking the day off, sitting in the shade in a lounge chair Shannon bought by this morning when she picked me up to take me to the grocery store. I will rest my complaining muscle, catch up on writing and contact with friends, and be eternally grateful for what the trail has provided this time, reminding myself yet again that worry has no place either here or at home. All I have to do is keep putting one foot in front of the other and trust the trail to provide.

Although I struggled with a sense of isolation as I made the decision, in Butte, to leave the official CDT and set off by myself into the unknown, I was also incredibly grateful for friends both new and old. I’m learning to appreciate the people I meet for only a day, knowing they are enriching my life, even if I will soon have to say good-bye. And I am especially grateful for longtime friends such as Karen Deets, who continues to send me fire updates and has my back. I’ve already had both wonderful and difficult times on the alternate, and so far I am finding my way. I hope I continue to find my way, both physically and emotionally.