The Power of a Walking Stick

I recently returned from a vacation out West where my friends and I toured several national parks in Montana and Wyoming. We spent our days hiking and wildlife viewing along the Grand Loop Road in Yellowstone Park. On our final day, en route to Cody, Wyoming via the East Entrance, we stopped for one last hike. 

The trailhead was typical of many we’d seen: a clean wooden shack with a portable toilet, a trail marker, and a map outlining the route and mileage. We set off with our usual gear: wide-brimmed hats, water bottles, hiking poles. The early stretch of the trail was flat and familiar, a barely visible path hidden between a riot of wildflowers. But as we entered a dense pine forest, the terrain—and the mood—shifted.

Bear scat littered the trail, something that got my heart pumping. We didn’t have bear spray, so we raised our voices. When that felt insufficient, I pulled out my phone and blasted music, hoping the noise would deter any predators lurking in the nearby forest.

Eventually, the woods thinned, and the trail opened onto a sandy path that hugged the rocky coastline of one of Yellowstone’s many pristine lakes. Instantly, I was transported—not just geographically, but through memory—back to a teenage summer at our family’s summer compound in Palisades Park, Michigan. I’d taken a similar walk then, one that I  wrote about in my memoir, Twice the Family, A Memoir of Love, Loss, and Sisterhood. 

Here’s a condensed excerpt from the chapter titled “Sugar Bowl”:

“Have you been to the Sugar Bowl yet?” I asked Lori.

“Nope. Let’s go!” Lori’s dark brown eyes sparkled (at my twin sister Jenny and me).

Twenty minutes later, after checking in with my folks, the three of us dropped off the southernmost boardwalk and entered the parking area at the base of the Sugar Bowl (sand dune). The early afternoon sun was screaming hot, and my shoulders glistened with sweat. 

When we got to the mouth of the trail threading up the south end of the sand dune, I scrounged in the brush for a couple of thick branches to use as walking sticks. This had become a habit for my siblings and me. As we meandered along Palisades Park’s narrow sandy roads, we poked at stuff in the brush, fascinated by all the critters and plants that thrived under a dense blanket of decayed leaves. Walking sticks also came in handy when we scaled the steep footpaths linking our family cottage to the other beach areas, the clubhouse, or the tennis courts.

I handed a thick stick to Jen. We pushed through the overgrown path leading to the top of the Sugar Bowl. In single file, Jenny led, and Lori followed me. As we climbed, the three of us chattered about music, fashion, and where we might be headed for high school. About halfway up, we clumped together while Jenny used her stick to knock away some dense vines hanging down over the trail.

“Well, well. What have we got here?” a masculine voice boomed.

The three of us froze, our hearts nearly bursting from the exercise and the shock of running into others on the trail. Boys!

Two feet in front of us stood two muscled-up older boys. They looked like high schoolers, maybe older. The pair were like a brick wall, obliterating our way forward. Jenny reared back and knocked into me, causing the towel around my shoulders to fall to the sandy path. The cute and skimpy navy-blue bikini I’d convinced my mother I had to have for our family vacation was now in full view. I looked down at my bare midsection and wished that I was wearing last year’s one piece.

I caught Jenny’s glance. I knew what it meant: Who are these guys and where did they come from?

Panic built up in me, and I held my breath. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Two strange boys—who instead of stepping aside and letting us pass like anyone else would have done—blocked the only way up.

To no one in particular, I said in a quiet, hopeful voice, “We’re going to the top. Let us pass.”

In truth, I don’t know where my courageous comment came from, but I hoped the boys would listen, and that it would be enough to get us out of what felt like trouble. The bulky, dark-haired guy with the shaggy haircut guffawed. A deep, creepy laugh forced his black bushy eyebrows to knit in one long line. His brown eyes looked wild and menacing.

“Oh, we’ll let you pass, all right,” he said, laughing again. “Once we get a peek at what’s under there.” He pointed to Jenny’s white bathing suit top. “And there.” He gestured at my navy bottoms.

That long ago hike—and the fear it stirred—has stayed with me. It was the first time I felt truly unsafe in nature, not because of animals, but because of people. As I trekked through Yellowstone’s pine forest decades later, I noticed the overlap: both hikes were steep wooded and shared in the company of trusted companions. Both ended with a breathtaking view of water. And both were shadowed by an unwelcome threat—teenage boys back then, a possible bear now. 

The similarity wasn’t lost on me. Neither was the difference. This time, I had poles from REI instead of scavenged sticks. I had experience and the awareness to prepare—not just for beauty, but for danger. 

To this day, I’m wary on wooded trails because of that adolescent encounter at the Sugar Bowl sand dune. But it also taught me to keep going, to find courage in companionship, and to never underestimate the power of a walking stick—whether for balance, defense, or bravado. 

I hope your summer adventures are filled with wonder, beauty, and safe passage.

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July 30 Julie will speak with Donna Pope for Voices of Adoption Podcast. The Link will be posted here once the interview is live.

Aug. 3-5 Julie was selected to present her book, Twice the Family, at the SIBA/NAIBA’s joint fall conference, “New Voices New Rooms,” in Atlanta on Aug. 4 from 5-6:30 ET. 

Aug. 13: Julie will join the Adoption Knowledge Affiliates Book Club at 7 PM CT to discuss Twice the Family.

Aug. 20 and Sept. 10: Julie will be presenting an online webinar, “Memoir Magic: Mining Journals to Craft Compelling Memoir” for the Author Learning Center at 1:30 ET. Go here to register. 

Aug. 24-28: Julie will attend the HerSpirit Women’s Writing Retreat at the Chaminade Resort & Spa in Santa Cruz, CA organized by Story Summit.

Sept. 7: Julie will showcase her books at Printer’s Row LitFest on south Dearborn in downtown Chicago from 10-2 PM. Look for Julie in the Chicago Writer’s Association booth.

Follow Julie by visiting her website, subscribe to her bimonthly newsletters, and listen to previous podcast recordings where she discusses topics like adoption, identity, family relationships, sisterhood and belonging.

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