#36 The Detour I Never Planned
Less than 24 hours before we were supposed to leave for Shenandoah National Park, our entire hiking trip changed.
Katie and I had everything packed. We were excited, organized, and counting down the hours until we would be hiking more than 50 miles through one of my most anticipated sections of the Appalachian Trail.
Then, almost by accident, I came across a post from someone who had just left the trail after becoming seriously ill with Norovirus. As I continued reading, one detail immediately caught my attention.
My stomach dropped.
A quick search confirmed what I was hoping wasn’t true. Multiple news outlets and the National Park Service were reporting an ongoing Norovirus outbreak along portions of the Appalachian Trail in Shenandoah that had been affecting hikers since mid-June. We were really looking forward to this trip, but after reading the updates, we knew we had to make a difficult decision.
Fortunately, the manager at Skyland Resort was incredibly understanding and approved a one-time exception to move our reservation to next spring. We were disappointed, but grateful. Sometimes the smartest decision is also the hardest one to make.
Now it was the Fourth of July, and suddenly we needed a new adventure and a new itinerary.
As always, my husband had a practical solution.
“What about those gaps you still have in Pennsylvania? Why don’t you close those and keep heading north?”
Boom.
New plan.
Today we found ourselves in Duncannon, Pennsylvania instead of Virginia, hiking another section that connected a missing piece of my Appalachian Trail journey in PA. I had previously written about hiking into Duncannon and it’s very dark past. This time, we started at Peters Mountain Road and ended in town from the opposite direction.
The numbers looked manageable on paper, 8.1 miles with 1,469 feet of ascent and 1,565 feet of descent, but Pennsylvania quickly reminded me why it has earned its reputation. The endless rock formations demanded constant focus. More than once I found myself using my hands to pull myself up or steady my footing over uneven boulders.
Maybe it was the heat.
Maybe I should have eaten my Wheaties.
Or maybe I was simply carrying the disappointment of not being in Virginia.
Either way, it was a tougher hike than I expected.
One of my favorite parts of the day wasn’t a scenic overlook or a summit.
It was meeting Devon.
She was hiking solo while training for her next big climb, and within just a few minutes of talking, Katie and I both knew she was one of those people you don’t forget. Genuine. Friendly. Adventurous. The kind of person you walk away from thinking, I’d hike with her again.
The trail has a funny way of introducing us to exactly the people we’re supposed to meet, even when we’re hiking somewhere we never intended to be.
After finishing our hike, we drove around looking for dinner when our phones suddenly erupted with emergency alerts.
Tornado warning.
Ahead of us, the sky turned almost black. Rain slammed against the windshield while leaves and tree branches whipped across the road. It was a powerful reminder that on the trail (and in life) we’re never completely in control.
Looking back on today, I realized something.
The story was never about missing Virginia.
It was about learning to pivot.
Life rarely unfolds exactly as we plan it. We prepare, organize, schedule, and anticipate, but sometimes new information requires a different decision. Choosing a different path isn’t giving up. It’s using wisdom. It’s adapting. It’s trusting that another meaningful journey still lies ahead.
When I started Trailblazing Next, it was never just about hiking miles. It was about embracing uncertainty, learning from the journey, and discovering that growth often comes when life asks us to change direction.
Today didn’t go according to plan.
But neither does life.
Sometimes the greatest progress isn’t found by stubbornly following the original route. It’s found in having the wisdom to pivot, the courage to keep moving, and the faith to believe that every unexpected detour is still leading you exactly where you need to go.
The trail may change your plans, but it never has to change your purpose.