In 2016, Luke “Strider” Jordan hiked the GPT from south to north or NOBO, which is short for northbound. Here are a few of his memories of that hike titled . . .
A Sense of Place
I have a unique relationship with the Great Plains. Most people only get to experience it on a long lonely drive on one of our interstate highways or looking down from an airplane window. I had the unique experience of traversing the Plains on foot, all in an effort to hike the entire Great Plains Trail from end to end. As I traversed their vastness from South to North, I experienced the highs, the lows, and everything in between. Each day spent is a memory in itself, and I find myself thinking back on it on a daily basis.
I remember the feeling as I stood at the trailhead for the southern terminus in Texas, the excitement of the journey ahead. It was unusually hot for February and I had just come from a place that had frigid below-zero temperatures the day before. Despite the difficult adjustment to the elements, I hauled that fully loaded pack up and up that mountain, taking in the many views as I ascended to the summit of Guadalupe Peak. The desert stretched out as far as the eye could see, in every direction. I remember how intimidating it felt, knowing I would have to cross that seemingly endless expanse on foot between here and Canada. The journey had just begun.
More than a month later I had quite the opposite experience hiking through Denver. A powerful winter storm had just begun to blow through. I remember waking up in the morning and heading down to the hotel lobby for a big breakfast before starting the trek of the day. I had a window seat at the restaurant, my pack in the chair opposite myself. I watched, as the white powder started to accumulate on the streets outside, vehicles and people slowly starting to become less and less numerous. I contemplated it for a second, would it make sense to just stay here another night? But no, surely it wouldn’t be anything worse than what I’ve experienced time and time again living in the Great Lakes area my whole life. Naturally, I decided to shoulder that pack and head out into the impending storm, the light powder quickly turning into a white abyss. Only a few miles into the day on heavily used urban trails, suddenly there were no more people out and about. Vehicles could no longer be heard on the roads above or around, a sign that the city itself was shutting down amid the white-out conditions. I stumbled into a small diner across the street from the trail. The staff there were in the process of closing early to ensure everyone could make it home before they were stuck. I hitched a ride with one of the waitresses on her way home, dumping me off at a large parking lot with a Super 8 motel within view. As I entered, the lobby was jammed with people trying to get respite from the abyss outside. I counted myself fortunate to have a warm room that night.
The Great Plains often gets the unfortunate reputation of being flat and boring, with not much to see. While that may be true along the I-70 and I-80 corridors in some places, that misconception ended up leading to some of the biggest and best surprises of the journey. In Nebraska, I was blown away by the unexpected, surprising scenery of the Wildcat Hills and the Pine Ridge. In this semi-arid corner of the country here was a place that stood out from the rest, lush with color and diverse in the landscape. On top of all that, the thing about Nebraska in particular were the incredible people. Enthusiastic and generous people. I had trail magic in some form every day as I walked through the panhandle of the Cornhusker State. In the end, it’s the people you meet that make any journey memorable. Of particular note was a local friend of the family intercepting me along the route in the Oglala National Grassland. It was dinner time and he had brought a small cooler with some drinks and subway sandwiches and some camping chairs to sit on. We sat there on the side of the trail enjoying friendly conversation just as the sun began to set. The timing was perfect and he managed to get a great shot of me with all my gear in the foreground, with the setting sun, orange sky, and ocean of grass stretching behind me.
One can’t really tell stories of memorable moments of a thru-hike without talking about the last day. I started at first light, catching the first rays of the sunrise. I remember the emotions of the day, I was so close to accomplishing a dream, now mere miles away. A few miles shy of the Canadian Border, a final bit of trail magic manifested as a woman pulled up in her truck and handed me a bag lunch, complete with a sandwich, an apple, and some cookies. She had seen me walk by from her kitchen window a few minutes prior and decided I “looked hungry”. I thanked her tremendously for the act of kindness, and then she was gone, back the way she came. What felt like mere minutes later, I had reached the final stretch of the journey, one mile to go. Then the emotions hit, the confusing kind where conflicting feelings hit you all at once. I wasn’t ready to end the hike, the journey I had been on for nearly 3 months. What an incredible experience it had been. The best way I can describe it is like getting to the last page of a good book. You’ve grown to care about the characters and their struggles, and you’re not ready for the story to end. I remember reaching the border, getting my passport stamped as I walked a few steps into Canada to pose in front of the giant green sign “Welcome to Saskatchewan”. In that moment, it was done. I had completed the journey of hiking the entire Great Plains Trail from start to finish. The happy emotions took over in that moment, and I was elated. But when I got in the car to head home, it quickly faded.
