How to Follow the Cairns
I love hiking and backpacking, especially in the backcountry. My brothers and I try to take at least 2-3 trips each year, and our favorite thing to do is to pick the most remote, least-traveled trails in the park to hike. Once in the backcountry, the silence is breathtaking. I find it easiest to commune with God in the remote backcountry, surrounded by nature… God everywhere.
On a recent trip, my good friend, Randy, and I decided to hike the remote Bush Mountain Trail along the northwestern edge of the Guadalupe Mountains National Park in. The ranger actually tried to talk us out of it, although he admitted it was for purely selfish reasons. “If you boys get lost,” he said, “I don’t want to have to go all the way out there to get you!”
He explained that hardly anyone takes this particular trail, that it was likely overgrown and hard to find in places, and that we probably wouldn’t see another person along the entire trail—all positives, in our book!
We headed out on the trail, and within minutes had already made our first wrong turn. Our lesson learned, we continued, paying closer attention to the trail markings.
If you’ve done any backcountry hiking, you know that these types of trails are often marked with small piles of stones called rock cairns. The cairns are typically placed 50-100 yards apart along the trail. By paying close attention to the cairns, a hiker navigates his/her way by essentially connecting the “dots”.
This particular trail took us along some absolutely beautiful meadows, gentle hills and magnificent mesquite trees. We stopped often to take in the picturesque scenery, and simply be present to the moment. At times, the trail was so overgrown that we could only see the next rock cairn, and nothing beyond it. During those times, the only portion of the trail we could see was that which we were on. As we approached the next rock cairn, the next portion of trail would begin to reveal itself to us.
I soon observed that we had only been gradually gaining altitude, but we knew that our destination for that night’s stay required an elevation gain of at least 3,500 feet from the ranger’s station at the trailhead. Sooner or later, we would have to begin gaining elevation.
Rock cairn to rock cairn, we made our way. Sure enough, we rounded a turn and began to realize the challenge awaiting us.
The trail suddenly began to climb steeply, rock cairns dotting the spine of a ridge which led nearly straight up the side of the mountain. After hiking most of the day in the West Texas heat, carrying 50-pound packs with enough water and supplies for three days on top of the mountain, we quickly became exhausted.
During the next hour, it was often all we could do to simply make it to the next rock cairn, where we would stop to catch our breath, and then resume the grueling hike. Finally we made it the top of the mountain, and began hiking along the ridge line to our campsite. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to drop my backpack and sprawl out on a nearby rock.
Looking back on the day’s hike, it occurred to me that in addition to being relentless guides, those rock cairns also concealed a valuable life lesson.
While we may have an idea where our life’s journey will take us, we rarely know exactly what path we will take to get there. We are all destined for both mountaintop and valley experiences, but the trail we each follow often takes unexpected and difficult turns. Many times, we are completely unable to see beyond the next rock cairn, although we would much prefer to see the entire trail from start to finish.
If we purpose to enjoy only this portion of the trail—the portion of the trail we are currently on—we will get the most out of our time on the trail. And even though we cannot see beyond the next rock cairn, we can fully rest in the knowledge that the trail will reveal itself to us in time.
You chart the path ahead of me and tell me where to stop and rest. Every moment you know where I am.” Psalm 139:3
Rest in the knowledge that your trail has been charted for you, rock cairns carefully placed exactly when and where you will need guidance. Stop worrying about whether or not you can see your entire trail—your 5 or 10-year plan—and simply choose to be present to this portion of trail. The rest will reveal itself in time.
Enjoy the journey.
Filed under: Musings |
What a great story! It’s amazing how we can learn from everything in life if we just open our eyes and hearts to see the lessons. Thanks for sharing!
I wonder if Jesus had a Daytimer? Among other examples He gave us, He had many incredible encounters during His 3 year WALK around Israel. Good thing He didn’t rush to the cross - His ‘final destiny’ - and miss all the people He impacted and enjoyed hanging out with!
Can we truly trust our lives to the ’still small voice’ of the Spirit that leads us day by day? I know I’ve ignored that quiet voice telling me which road to take to get to work and avoid the traffic jam. Rushing to work and missing the joy of the interaction of Spirit with humanity.
But, lately I’ve been reminded of the need to not only trust the cairns, but also slowing down and embracing the moment now. Unfortunately, too many lives are so planned and organized that they miss the beauty of the trip!
Awesome analogy, Shawn. So true. Even when this present moment isn’t the one I would choose to live in, the very awareness of it and being WITH it, stills me so I can sense God’s presence. Once that is established, life is a lot nicer.
Awesome!
Rock Cairns…what a great lesson for life’s difficult turns. I have found many rock cairns in just the recent past years, and am facing another one right now. And as I learn through each monumental moment of presence, I find the inner peace and guidance to the rest of my journey’s path, whatever that may be around the next bend, to the next rock carin. Thanks Shawn. I so enjoy your posts.
Thanks, Carol. What makes the space between the rock cairns more pleasant are your hiking partners, and I’m grateful to be with you on this hike.