Hiking Grand Ledge

A few weeks ago, Chris and I had a wake-up call. After taking a promotion, he’d begun a two-hour commute to work and I, of course, would be stuck in the studio at the university during the rare hours he was home. Quite suddenly, we weren''t seeing each other. We felt blindsided. It was a thunderous shock to our companionship. 

I remember one afternoon, crazy enough, we happened to be home briefly at the same time. We passed each other in the kitchen, so I grabbed him; looked deeply up into his eyes for the connection. To just look at him. Grinning, we kept saying over and over, “Hi, hello,” while we just held each other, acknowledging one another's presence before breaking away—I, madly gathering my bag for class; Chris running downstairs to pull out a laundry load before his shift.

And just like that, it was time to readjust. We needed to find a balance.

We were both yearning to reconnect, to have some us time, to run away unplugged. So we started hiking. Without any specific gear, without true hiking boots, or poles, or body-temp regulated clothing, we just went. We didn’t need any of those things. All we needed was each other and the earth.

Excitedly, we drove out to Grand Ledge to kick off our newfound recreation.

The ledges were beautiful. We kept laughing at ourselves; why didn’t we do this sooner? The rock formations and cliffs broke the mold of our city dweller view. The sights were so out of the ordinary we felt like we had traversed hours away. It was a beautiful gift—our mad, individual agendas. We wouldn’t have ever known what we were missing.

These trips have become sacred. Our second hike was closer to home, and we’re adamantly planning our third. Chris has since purchased a pair of boots (as I will be shortly), but we didn’t need a thing to begin. Very slowly, our hikes will become longer, the locations more remote, and we may even carry our beds on our backs one day (I'm loving the sound of that!).

We’re still adjusting to this new schedule of ours, but it’s getting easier, as everything does over time. It makes the moments we do share all the more gratifying, all the more profound.