A Journey of Healing and Strength
In the spirit of embracing the “Diva” within, I wanted to share one memorable Labor Day hike at Sleeping Bear Dunes from a few years back. After losing my first husband, hiking became my refuge—a way to process everything and simply survive. On this particular day, it felt like the dunes called to me, urging me to climb their sandy slopes once more.
The last time I’d been there was likely in the late ’90s, chaperoning a school field trip with one of my kids. For some reason, that summer I just knew I needed to climb them again. But as life often goes, plans were sidelined by family, work, and obligations. Soon enough, it was Labor Day Weekend, and the dunes were still waiting. Determined, I set my sights on tackling them that very Monday. My kids had other plans, so I went solo, determined to see this adventure through.
I don’t usually check the weather forecast, and as I left, the sky seemed like a typical gray September morning. By the time I reached the top, though, the wind had picked up, the clouds thickened, and I was uneasy. I noticed other hikers wisely turning back, but I kept going. I had climbed my mountain (or dune, in this case) in more ways than one, and nothing—not even a storm—was going to stop me.
The storm passed with only rain and wind, giving me a triumphant sense of resilience. Feeling like a true “Diva,” I took myself to Pierce Stocking Drive, a spot full of memories from family visits and trips with guests to Northern Michigan. Despite a few lingering showers, the day had a refreshing peacefulness about it.
I eventually found my way to Glen Haven, stopping by the general store and the museum. That’s where I spotted a sticker that read, “Dune Diva”. It felt like a sign! I bought it, along with some trinkets for my grandkids, before heading to my car. The sun had begun to peek through the clouds, and I figured, “Why not?” There was a trail leading to Glen Arbor a few miles away. I decided to walk it and treat myself to lunch at Good Harbor Grill.
This was a huge step. It was my first time dining alone since he’d passed. The walk was a little wet, thanks to the water-laden trees shaking off drops with every gust, but I didn’t mind. I enjoyed a lovely, solo meal—a symbolic milestone in my journey of healing and self-rediscovery.
By the end of the day, I’d been gone for over eight hours, with nearly five of those spent walking. It was the first time I’d climbed Sleeping Bear Dunes in 15-20 years, and I was incredibly proud of myself. That stormy Labor Day hike reminded me that I could survive—even thrive—through what I thought I couldn’t. A productive, stormy day at the dunes, and a milestone in my journey back to myself.
