I took my first steps of the day in darkness, tinted by the delicate light of the moon. I had almonds, a ukulele, a journal, my favorite pen. Most importantly, I had solitude. I stumbled around looking for the trail to take me up the mountain, and finally after about 20 minutes of searching and feeling around, I found it.

The dense forest was starting to become brighter, colors more visible, as nature’s lantern emerged from the west. After spending days upon days with the same people hiking on Isle Royale, I could finally spend a whole day alone. I picked my destination, the highest point on the topographic map, and could not wait to get there, but the dirt was not very interesting to look at; I had become accustomed to looking at my feet while I hiked. Instead, I decided to slow down and take my time. I took in the lush forest bathing in the morning glow of the sunrise. Everything slowly began awakening before my very own eyes: Birds chirped, the morning dew glistened on the leaves, the squirrels danced between the trees. I felt extremely fortunate to be existing outside at this moment.

With every step I took, my pace became faster; I hurried to get there, for I was so eager to begin my day of reflection and serenity. My arms swung side to side until I was skipping up the trail. Then suddenly, a flash of blue writing on my hand caught my eye. I had written a note to myself the night before, and it had completely slipped my mind. It is the journey, not the destination, it read. Abruptly, I stopped and realized I had begun this excursion all wrong. I must cherish and learn from every moment, not just the moment I am waiting for, and recognizing this helped me discover my trait of undeniable impatience. This revelation is something that I had expected to learn later on my trip, during a more physically strenuous part of my journey. Personally out of experience, I have learned the most about myself during difficult moments, not ones meant to be carefree. So, seeing something so deep at a point like this surprised me; It was a good surprise.

At last, I had one final pass to conquer, and it was no walk in the park. At this point there was no trail, only a map, compass, and instincts to guide me. I navigated my way to a treacherously steep hill, and it challenged me to overcome its dangerous rocky ledges.

After hoisting myself over the last little cliff, I lifted my head to see one of the most breathtaking views I had ever witnessed in my life. The sky dazzled, complements of the sun. Birds frolicked and sang. Sleeping Giant loomed over Thunder Bay. The island stretched for miles and miles with mirror lakes and burly trees. I was lucky enough to look paradise straight in the face, but my day had only begun.

The early morning hike had taken a toll on my body. I was exhausted, but not even close to finished with my day. After admiring the scenery, I began to set up my own temporary bungalow. Here I would admire the beautiful sunny day, but also take quality time to reflect upon myself. It was here that I wrote a letter to myself in 6 months, wrote random thank you notes to those who inspire me and keep my life going, and also created goals for myself- no distractions. I wrote songs and practiced my ukulele to keep me occupied and entertained.

In the letter to myself, I focused on reminders. I wrote, “Remind those that are close to you that you love them and why. They will appreciate it and make you feel loved in return, because you are luckier than you know. Anna, you have love in your life and that makes you so fortunate, so get off your phone and focus on the real relationships you have now. They will be gone someday, but you will always have your phone”. Most significantly, I reminded myself to “appreciate your shower, you haven’t even seen one in two and a half weeks”.

I folded up the note and licked the envelope, now a permanent documentation of such valuable feelings, ready to learn from myself later. Looking out atop the most gorgeous mountain, feeling like I had just won the lottery, I wondered what others have gained. I folded my hands in my lap and enjoyed my last minutes of solitude.