In every direction, there was sand. I strained my eyes to search for anything else on the horizon, but there was only a quilt of tan and pale orange. My face was slick with sweat and sunscreen as my eyes glanced up at the giant dune towering over us. What was this, number six? Number seven? My calves burned from walking up and down and I felt like a crab scurrying along the bottom of the ocean, aimlessly staring into the deep, endless blue above me

I was visiting Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, home to breathtaking nature and scenic hikes. This one, in particular, was a four mile, three hour trek over huge dunes culminating at Lake Michigan. The location was stunning—beige sand against a cloudless sky. We only passed three or four other people during the first half of our journey due to the early hour. One of them, against any understanding of my own, was jogging.

I most likely would have found peace, had I been alone. Instead, I walked with the ten others who went with me, the ten who had left our church in State College in order to go on this pilgrimage. I was tired of listening to them complain, tired of spending every moment for the past five days with them.

I’m sure they were tired of me, too.

As I progressed up that dune, larger than each before it, I wondered why I was there. Every part of me had resisted coming on this trip; first waking up at 5 AM on the morning of my 16th birthday to join people I wasn’t close to, and then traveling to a strange place, without my family or anything else I knew. The night before I left, I had cried myself to sleep. Why was I doing this? I didn’t even believe in God.

It was odd, though, because I enjoying being in Michigan. I felt serene heading up the sand. Surrounded by nature, I could ignore the screaming in my legs just as I had ignored the screaming in my head so many times before.

Exactly then, as I was walking up that dune, the horizon started to sparkle. Sun reflecting off the lake.

I took a few more steps, and then….I stopped, finally realizing what I was actually seeing. Sand, water, the sky, the sun. Something touched me. I think I was walking ahead of everyone else, but they all caught up with me and stopped too. For a minute, no one talked, no one complained, no one moved. We all forgot how to breathe.  

I knew then, this was why I’d come. This was why I’d journeyed 650 miles by two planes and an endless layover, even though I was scared to fly without my parents and I only wanted to stay where I was comfortable. The sand was warm and inviting; the water called me ahead. All the weight, all the pain, was lifted away.

I ran down that dune, to the lake and to the future, which were beckoning.

Sometimes the nicest thing about nature is that it gives you a reason to just exist.

When you’re out in the woods, or by a lake, or sitting in a meadow, or anywhere outside, you don’t have to be doing anything. You can sit, listen, and watch. Looking at the sky can consume hours of time, and the colors of the leaves are an abundance of distraction from the world inside your head. Existing in nature is the rawest and most human form of life. Nothing is more spiritual, in my opinion, than sitting and watching the ocean or listening to birds while admiring a sunset.

When my family went to Yellowstone National Park, we were the family that did everything. We stopped at every hot spring and visited every waterfall—we practically drove every mile of every road of that park. Each step of the trip was spectacular, and it was insane knowing that places like that exist in this world. There are pools filled with near boiling water, colored brilliant shades of blue and green by thermophilic microbes, who exist in the harshest and most intense environments on this planet. Geysers fill the air with steam and smoke when the ground literally erupts. Thinking about it, it’s hard to imagine what you’re seeing actually exists.

There’s another side to the park. Beyond the abnormal, there’s the calm and natural. There are lakes to swim in and forests to hike in.

On the whole trip, two locations were my favorite. One was a lunch spot, a creek that reminded me overwhelming of the local Spring Creek in State College. Surrounded by such odd environments, sitting by water and trees that reminded me of home was a great spiritual cleanser and gave me the power to finish out our day (where we stopped at way too many lookouts and boardwalks, trying to discover all Yellowstone had to offer).

The other was on our last day of the trip: the destination of a short 2 mile hike, an overlook of Yellowstone Lake. My family arrived after a trip where my mom yelled “Hey Bear!” every 30 seconds, terrified of the trees that surrounded us stripped of bark. Although an anxiety ridden journey for some, the ending destination was the definition of peaceful. It was just us, on a cliff, our legs dangling out over clear blue water which went on in every direction. The sun was shining down on us, but the heat wasn’t suffocating. After the constant activity of the last 8 days of our trip through the Grand Teton National Park and Yellowstone, having a place of finally sit and watch was fulfilling. My sister and I sat together in silence, exhausted of our parents, but thankful for this final experience on our last day in the park. We both agreed it was our favorite part of the entire trip.

Nothing beats existing in nature. There’s so much pressure to always go, but it’s not necessary. Sure, hiking up the mountain is cool, but the 20 minutes of silence you take to look out at the world below you is what you’ll remember. As humans, it’s what we need to remind us who we are.

The wonderful thing about hiking in State College is that we are located right adjacent to Rothrock State Forest. Beautiful trails are within 15 minutes from Downtown State College, and you don’t have to go far to get lost among the trees.

Probably my favorite hiking area is Shingletown Gap, located only about 5 minutes off of South Atherton. As you drive down “Mountain Road,” you’ll pass a residential area before arriving on a one lane road which will take you right to the base of the trail area. From there, you have a choice: go straight, go up the left side of the valley, or cross the stream and go up the left right of the valley. If you have time and multiple visits, I recommend taking all these options. If you will probably never see the same trees again and you’re in at least decent shape, the right side of the valley offers the hardest hike (comparable to Mount Nittany, so not extremely strenuous) and the most beautiful views, joining with the Mid-State Trail (MST) on top of the mountain.

Once, in the middle of the past summer, I was leading my two friends Zoe and Jon up my favorite trail when I pointed to a steep rock face to the side and said, “well, that’s our trail!” and was met with remarkably wide eyes and dropped jaws until I revealed my bluff. When I was back a few weeks later with another friend and told him this story we had the following exchange:

Him: “You’ve never hiked up that?”

Me: “No…is it an actual trail?”

Him: “Yeah! I mean I haven’t been up it in years but –”

By that time, I was already heading off our current trail to climb the nearly vertical rock face, ignoring the ropes that had been tied to trees and left for assistance, instead choosing to go hands and feet until reaching the top. It wasn’t too high or at all technically difficult, but I jumped on the chance for a new view of the area that I loved so much, and was actually rewarded with a pretty stunning vista. From here, you could see the other side of the valley, which was close enough to offer detailed views of each tree, but far enough away that you could see all of it.

With this detour, we eventually rejoined my favorite trail, hiking up Deep Path and then taking a right up top along the MST, walking about 100 yards, and being met with a breathtaking view off the other side of the mountain.

Hiking the MST the other way, you eventually reach Roman Tower, which is a rock feature that offers a look at distant State College. From here, I wouldn’t recommend hiking down the Downer

Trail as it’s much steeper than Deer Path, but I’ve done it twice and it hasn’t killed me either time, so honestly, explore wherever you want.

I actually haven’t gone any further than Roman Tower, but I hope someday soon I can explore the rest of the area. The accessibility of Shingletown is probably my favorite part, as it’s about 10 minutes away from my house. Overall, I would highly recommend this area for a quick day hike.