1000:1 Sunrises

I wrote last Fall while in Italy (actually, Greece) that I was a sucker for sunsets. It turns out that I’m a sucker for sunrises as well! This summer I had the chance to witness three memorable sunrises — and every single one of them was worth it. Their memorableness is not based on quality; it is based on quantity. This summer I caught about one in every three sunsets. In the past four years of my life I’ve only caught about 5 sunrises. Total. When you catch so few, they stick.

The cost of seeing the sun peek over the horizon (lack of sleep, multiple alarms, and an undoubtedly longer spirit of crankiness in the morning) was great. Great, as in it cost a lot, not great as in I want to do it often.

Many friends read about my summer travels, and while they’re all memorable, one week stood out just for the diversity of the sights I saw. So, now to weave a scene:

Lisa Thurston, the director for the Upper Midwest region’s TREC Camp, told me before counseling that the kids at TREC are the best because they’re the ones who really want to be there; they’re the ones willing to work hard and make life easy for all. TREC isn’t for the weak-hearted. Twelve campers and three adults began an incredibly long drive for a relatively short walk … how American of us. We “settled” into the van and car and drove the 9.5 hours from the middle of Iowa to the far northern part of Minnesota (almost to the Boundary Waters). While driving we prepared our bodies with calisthenics only young people would do: a dinner of beef jerky, goldfish (the crackers = NOT the animals), juice boxes and whatever sugary snacks each person bought at the gas stations.

With the necessary, but not required, stretches of getting out of the vehicle every four hours when we refilled one vehicle or the other with gas, we were set to hike the mountains.

We started on the Superior Hiking Trail on Tuesday afternoon ready for an adventure. Sure, our adventure for that day was only going to be 1.2 miles, but in 1.2 miles there is no telling what animals we could come across … especially in Northern Minnesota. Well, we hiked, we saw no animals, and we conquered those 1.2 miles in 45 minutes. So what did we do after stopping for a quick bite to eat (this meal was the spray cheese from a can on crackers)? We carried on … because our group was THAT motivated.

Sure enough, when we deviate from the plans something unexpected happens (yeah, I realize that was just stating the obvious for many instances). Our deviation took us another 4.5 miles before we reached the next campsite where we could stop for that evening. We knew before starting out again that it would be that distance; what we didn’t realize, however, was my speed (along with the other 9 campers with me) compared to the rest of the group. Nine of the guys and I told the others we were going to stop at the top of the mountain and would wait for them there.

We reached the top and saw this great side-trail that had an outcropping we could look from. It was SO worth it. After about 30 minutes, a couple of the guys asked me where the others were. After panicking, afraid that they meant some of the 10 of us in that group had fallen off the mountain, I realized they were talking about those still walking.

So I pulled out the radio and discovered we were almost twenty minutes behind them. It quickly – or slowly, depending on the viewpoint – turning into a sad retelling of the “Tortoise and the Hare.” At about three different points we could hear the other group’s voices and conversation only to radio and realize we had slowed down while they’d sped up. In the end we met them at the campsite ten minutes after they arrived.

Now to fast-forward to the picture you’re seeing above. Since we hiked so well the first day we knew we were going to finish the section of the trail early (appx. 20 miles or so total) and, in finishing, here’s a short list of what happened in the next two days: we got wet from rain at night (we were under tarps we packed); we walked across a bridge over a raging river right into the Lutson ski resort; four of the campers and I inconspicuously went into the bathroom at the resort’s restaurant to refill just over 20 liters of water for the rest of the group; we hiked more, got tired, admired several lakes and finished strong.

Since we had a day to spare in our trip, we played and stayed at Goosebury State Park to let the campers revel in the waterfalls. That night a couple of them found a cove right on Lake Superior about 200 yards from our campsite. We did our nighttime vespers there with a reality check and then closed with ten minutes of silence.

After a 2 A.M. natural alarm clock by a sudden rainstorm, and an instinctual “snooze button” action of fifteen people sleeping under tarps that through the rest of the week held ten, we woke at sunrise and sprinted back to the cove for another 10 minutes of blissful silence while we ingested the colors changing every 15 seconds or so.

Sunrises and sunsets are cliche. Sure, the occasional clouds will throw a mix into how the sun’s rays transfigure the sky; but, for the most part, they’re predictable. They’re beautiful, mood-setting, and wonderful. Just like my “guilty-pleasure” songs in my iTunes library, I know there’s often better stuff that I can do with my time. In spite of all that, I’m still a sucker for them and now I know fourteen other people who are as well.