Finding the Trail Again

During my recent solo-backpacking adventure on Isle Royale, I came upon a stretch of solid rock—about 50 yards wide and 100 yards long. The trail disappeared as I stepped onto it. I knew the path continued on the other side, but even with my GPS, I couldn’t figure out where to pick it up.

For nearly ten minutes I wandered back and forth, scanning the edges, trying to make sense of the landscape. Finally, I stopped, took a breath, and settled myself. And there it was: a small stack of rocks, carefully placed by someone before me.

I walked toward it, and sure enough, it pointed me to where the trail picked up again. Someone else had once been just as uncertain as I was—but instead of just moving on once they found the way, they took the time to make sure others wouldn’t feel as lost.

That simple act reminded me so much of recovery. There are times when I feel overly confident—thinking I’ve got this, that I’m in control, that I know exactly where I’m going. But then there are moments when I feel lost, when the path isn’t obvious to me and I’m unsure of the way forward.

That’s when I remember: I can’t do this journey alone. Just like on the trail, recovery has stretches when the path isn’t obvious to me. But others who’ve gone before me are there to guide me—not just by pointing out the way, but by walking with me, sharing their experience, and reminding me I don’t have to figure it all out on my own.

Recovery, for me, isn’t just about finding my own path—it’s about being present for others when they feel lost, offering support, and saying, “I’ve been here too, and you don’t have to walk it alone.”