There’s something special about starting your day on a trail before most people have poured their first cup of coffee. At 7:00 AM, with a cool northern Michigan breeze and soft morning light filtering through the trees, I stepped onto the Old Indian Trail at Lake Mitchell in Cadillac, beginning not just a hike, but a conversation with history.
This trail once carried the footsteps of Indigenous travelers for millennia, long before paved roads and GPS routes existed. Today, it still hums with that quiet energy, a sandy, rooted, pine-lined spine connecting Cadillac toward Traverse City. Each trail marker isn’t just a waypoint; it’s a storyteller.
And earlier this summer, one of those storytellers, Scott Buckmaster, was asked by the Cadillac Area Visitor’s Bureau to restore those very stones. Before I ever set foot toward Marker 11, he had already walked and ridden the backroads and two-tracks, carrying tools, patience, and respect. Where time, weather, and even shotgun blasts had left scars, he patched, filled, and revived. Where vehicles or pry bars had tried to erase history, he steadied it again.
I was lucky enough to join him for the first few markers, watching craftsmanship meet reverence. Then the trail became his alone for a time, just as it became mine this morning. He worked three weekends over the summer, north through Wexford County, stone by stone. I spent three and a half hours walking it on foot, marker by marker, breath by breath. He met an Amish bull guarding Marker 10 and a stubborn river blocking Marker 15. I met sunrise, silence, and a rhythm only trails can teach.
As the sun climbed, so did my appreciation; for the views, yes, but also for the effort poured into preserving these monuments. By the time I reached Marker 11, tired and grateful, I understood something deeper: these stones aren’t just markers. They are moments in history. Memory posts. Guides for souls and soles alike.
To restore them is to honor their significance.
To walk them is to honor the history.
Both are acts of respect.
If you ever find yourself in northern Michigan, do yourself a favor; lace up early, follow those carved stones, and feel the land speak. Notice the repairs; notice the history; notice the peace that settles in when you move at the pace of those who came long before.
You don’t conquer this trail.
You join it, briefly, humbly, gratefully.
Here’s to footsteps and stonework, trail breath and trail memory, and leaving something better behind for the next traveler – enjoy the journey.