The Long Way's Round

Sacred trails the world over help hikers discover deeper truths about the world and themselves. But what truly makes a path transformative? ELISA BETH KWAK - HEFFERAN treks a new 170-mile loop in Montana in search of the pilgrimage she needs.

DAY 4, MILE 39

This is not what I was expecting.

Twelve miles into a 19-mile day, I’m edging along a field full of scratchy brush and cow pies. It’s hot and dusty, there’s no shade, and I’m nursing blisters on both heels.

I had heard wonderful stories about Montana’s Sacred Door Trail. Grand vistas, sparkling lakes, animals everywhere. But this? This sucks. I plod along, yanking too hard on my pack straps in a futile attempt to lighten the weight on my back, kicking the dirt clods. When the trail peters out for the hundredth time, I stop and stare at the sky. Are you f ***ing kidding me? I say under my breath, to no one. Pressure gathers behind my eyes.

I came to the 170-mile Sacred Door Trail last summer looking for the opposite of this: serenity, calm acceptance, a way out from under the wave of rage that’s been drowning me for more than a year. This is a brand-new American pilgrimage trail, and it promises three weeks of inner peace by way of backpack and boots, or so I’ve been told. But right this second, I’m more pissed than I have been in months.

It’s not just the heat, or the cows. It’s what the trail’s founder, Weston Pew, told me to do before I started this trip: Hike some sections in silence, noticing where your mind drifts and where it sticks. So I did.

He’s late, again. Very late, and not answering my texts. “Have you left yet?” “When will you be home?” We’re supposed to go out tonight. I pace around our apartment, sweeping a floor that doesn’t need sweeping, checking my phone every few minutes. Annoyance gives way to anger, then cold, prickly fear. Something’s wrong. “Sweetie, where are you?”

DAY 1 , MILE 2