"Angels, I need a sign."

Hiking alone is one of life’s great pleasures. And yet, it comes with risks that I’m fully aware of and prepare for. On this particular day, I decided to take a beautiful hike on a fairly well-traveled trail in the Tetons. Normally, I love hiking alone, but when I’m in bear country I don’t love it so much. In fact, I try not to do it. There are warning signs all over the national parks that talk about the protocol for hiking in bear country. The 3 most important things to do are: 1) Make noise on the trail (sing, call out, clap your hands, etc, 2) Carry bear spray (and know how to use it), 3) Don’t hike alone. Hike in groups of 3 or more people. Items 1 and 2 are no problem for me. I can sing “She’ll Be Comin’ Round the Mountain” and “This Land is Your Land” at the top of my lungs when needed on a trail. And I always carry bear spray. But hiking in a group of 3 is not easy for a single person. My strategy is to casually wait for a group at the trailhead and tag along behind them at a respectful distance. This often means that I’m hiking at their pace and not my own, but it’s a trade off I’m willing to accept. My goal is to stay within eyesight of another group of hikers when I’m on my own in bear country.

On this particular day, hiking in the Tetons, I started off following a family of 4 along a beautiful trail through a meadow and above one of the glacier lakes. They were laughing and talking and making plenty of noise to warn any bears that we were approaching. At one point, I stopped (for what I thought was just a few minutes) to take a series of photos and admire the view,. As I looked up, I soon realized that I was alone. The family had moved far enough ahead of me into the forest that I could no longer see or hear them. I picked up my pace to catch up with them. But as I entered the forest, I came to a crossroads on the trail. There was a small wooden sign at the trail, but the nail holding the sign was rusted and loose, and the sign was tilted at an angle and I couldn’t tell which way to go. Both trails looked viable. I stood there for a while, trying to assess the most worn path, but it was a fairly rocky section and there was no way to tell. I took a deep breath and said, “okay, I’m going this way.”

I moved at a good pace, hoping to catch up with the family I had seen earlier. I hiked for about a quarter mile and didn’t see them. I hiked for another half mile. Nothing. I was now totally alone in the woods. There was nobody in front of me, and nobody behind me. Just me and my heartbeat and my breath. I kept thinking, “surely, another hiking group will come by any moment and I’ll know I’m on the right trail.” I hiked for another quarter mile or so, singing loudly and clapping my hands as I went along. Still no one. At this point, my anxiety was increasing to the point of low-grade fear. I did what I knew to do. I stopped moving and stood still. I wasn’t lost per se, but I didn’t know exactly where I was. Was I on the right trail? Or did I take a wrong turn a mile or so back? I didn’t know. Should I keep going? Or should I turn back? There was only one thing to do. Ask for help. Throughout my life (and especially over the past few years), I’ve been able to ask for divine guidance and receive it. It’s not anything special I’m doing. I believe this is available to all of us, if we ask and if we listen. There is an amazing amount of support and guidance in the unseen realms. I’ve become really good at asking for guidance, listening for it, and receiving it. I call on God. I call on my Angels. I ask for help when I need it. And it comes. Not always in the way I expect, but it always comes.

“Angels,” I said, “I need help. I sign a sign. Please show me something if you want me to turn back. Otherwise, I’ll continue on this trail.” I walked another 20 yards and stopped dead in my tracks. There in front of me was a huge pile of fresh bear scat. And when I say fresh, I mean FRESSSH. It literally took my breath away and my heart started beating out of my chest. “OK!” I said. “That’ll do it! That is DEFINITELY my sign.” I turned around immediately and started to high-tail it back to the trail junction, a mile away. I won’t say I was running exactly, (it was more of an awkward, semi-panicked gallop), but I was making good time. My backpack flopping from side to side, my hiking stick flailing to and fro. It was quite a sight, I’m sure. I eventually made it back to the trail junction, breathless from all the singing. I went another half mile to a look-out point where I was sure there would be people there. I met up with two women who were hiking the same trail I was. I told them my saga and asked them if I could join them for the remainder of the hike. They welcomed me as their hiking companion for the next 3 miles, and we made it safely back to the trailhead. When I returned to my car, I sat for a moment, giving thanks for my safe return and thinking, “Ask and you shall receive." The answer may not always be what I expect. Sometimes, it's in the form on a

pile of fresh bear shit.” I laughed out loud to myself, and thought “Whatever works!”