Lost and Found on the Centennial Trail
When a hiking trip goes wrong, assuming the worst about people does no one any good
I’d loaded my pack and set out on a hike into the Black Hills to clear my head. I was 955 miles into that spiritual journey when I got lost.
Granted, I’d spent 950 of those miles driving from Chicago to South Dakota, but it certainly sounds better than admitting that I managed to get lost five miles into a 100-mile hike.
The plan had been to spend two weeks backpacking alone on the Centennial Trail — one of many trails nationwide of the same name. But this one was both long enough to be a real challenge to complete and short enough that I felt confident I could finish the entire length.
Last year, I turned 50 years old, so I decided to travel in celebration. Las Vegas. San Francisco. Cabo San Lucas. The Bahamas. But by April, Covid-19 restrictions and the travel ban had reduced most of those plans to ashes.
I felt trapped. Then I read an article about the Centennial Trail. It seemed to be the inspiration I needed: A 120-mile trail meandering through rolling hills and grassy plains in America’s heartland sounded like the answer to my wanderlust.
