The Summer of '95: The hike

Two days before my last day of sixth grade, my classmates and I hiked the five-mile North Shore Trail from Solon to Lake Macbride to celebrate the end of elementary school. It is a day that made an indelible mark on me, and was an amazing, memorable event to kick off the summer of 1995. Which is why I decided to recreate the hike exactly 25 years to the day later.

On June 7, The Foxy Lady and I parked her car at the Solon Recreation and Nature Area, where the North Shore Trail begins. Equipped with packs, water, and snacks, we started walking.

It was cloudless and warm—very similar to how I remember June 7 in 1995. How do I know the exact date? I did not know it from memory but knew it would be in my assignment notebook from the time. I knew I had it somewhere, buried with other personal memorabilia from the time, and I was thankfully able to find it and the exact date of our year-end hike.



The Foxy Lady and I started walking at a steady, comfortable pace, enjoying the sun and scenery. The trail is likely a little different than it was in 1995. A new paved bike path parallels the trail’s first mile or so, and the Solon trailhead is located in the expansive park with a paved loop, Frisbee golf course, and diamonds for softball and baseball—none of which I remember from 1995. They could have been there but are details that did not stick with me. I remember the bus passing and maybe parking at Solon’s elementary school and the trail starting nearby. I remember seeing the school, one that looked newer than my elementary, and thinking how much it sucked for the students there. We got a day outside, and they had to sit inside and learn—if school was still in session in Solon. (I doubt it now. Iowa City was notorious for ending the school year late.)

A lack of continuous movement is what made the hike in ‘95 so memorable. Two friends and I were constantly delayed by our teacher, Mr. G, who stopped us to talk about the plants, insects, and whatever else he spotted along the trail. It was fun and informative (though I don’t remember anything he told us), but we fell far behind everyone else in our group. During one of his lectures early in the hike, I looked over my shoulder and saw everyone else walking farther and farther away, oblivious of what we were doing. Soon, our quartet was so far behind that we lost sight of the others. Unsure where we were going (I don’t think the teachers told us the final destination, just that it involved a five-mile hike), we trusted that Mr. G knew the way.

After starting in the dense brush and woods west of Solon, the North Shore Trail curves to its namesake: the north shore of Lake Macbride. (Yes, the correct spelling is Macbride. Not MacBride or McBride. Macbride.) With the lake on one side, the trail passes prairie preserves and skirts the backyards of large homes. There are boat docks and ramps near the lakeside subdivisions. On the hike this year, kayaks, pontoons, and sail boats were visible on the water. There were not many others on the trail, but a few runners and cyclists passed us.

I don’t remember anyone else on the trail in 1995. June 7 was a Wednesday that year, so not as many people were out and about enjoying the great outdoors of Johnson County. (June 7 was a Sunday this year.) Trails were not as big of an attraction in the mid-nineties, and The Foxy Lady and I discussed the growing popularity of outdoor recreation since then. Based on observation alone, the number of people who get outside and enjoy kayaking, cycling, running, walking, et cetera has exploded in the last 25 years. The bike trail that leads to Ely and Cedar Rapids is proof of that. In 1995, I doubt there was anyone else on or near the trail until we reached the Opie Avenue boat ramp.

Opie Avenue is about the halfway point of the trail, and I vividly remember being there on the hike in 1995. We passed a parking lot with cars and the trail appeared to fork. Which way? we asked Mr. G. Unfortunately, he had no clue. Thankfully, a group of older folks was standing in the parking lot, chatting, and Mr. G asked if they had seen “a bunch of kids” pass through and which why they went. Directions were given, but the damage was done: our faith in Mr. G was shattered for the rest of the hike.

There is no discernable fork at Opie Avenue today, so perhaps it’s another way the trail has changed

Another thing I vividly remember on the hike in ‘95 is seeing a giant satellite dish looming tall above the trees on the other side of the lake. It was like the large dishes used for radio astronomy. I was in awe because I never knew such things existed in Iowa. It inspired the sci-fi lover in me and sparked my creativity: I wrote a similar satellite dish into the novel I started that summer.

Sadly, no giant dish is visible from the North Shore Trail now. There is a VLBA antenna near North Liberty that may be visible from a different trail near the Iowa Raptor Project, so perhaps I’m combining separate field trips. Regardless, I have always associated it with that end-of-year hike.

The hike in ’95 was the first time I used the North Shore Trail—and the only time for a long time. I had no clue what or where it was until last year. I rediscovered it last fall and now use it often for walking and running, though I never walk or run the whole thing. (I think my next running goal is to run the whole thing and back, about 10 miles. I’ve never run 10 miles before.) That Wednesday was also the first time I had ever gone on a serious hike. It was the farthest and longest physical activity of my life to that point, and probably remained so for a long time. (I have no clue what would have surpassed it. Probably a five- or six-mile run when I lived in California.) I was a plump 12-year old whose physical activity outside of school consisted of shooting hoops in the driveway and playing baseball in the backyard (we always used a tennis ball, which made our backyard a bandbox), so the hike was exhausting. I was probably ill prepared, too: no snacks or bottles filled with water like The Foxy Lady and I enjoyed this year.

Twenty-five years later, I’m a lot fitter and have a lot more endurance—albeit still slightly overweight—so I expected to faire a lot better in 2020. However, hiking the entire North Shore Trail is still a hoof. The sun beat down and the temperature increased. My shirt became wet beneath my backpack and its straps. The Foxy Lady and I stopped at one of the trailside benches only once. Our only other stop was at the facilities at Opie Avenue, but without toilet paper, running water, or hand sanitizer, The Foxy Lady opted to wait until we reached Macbride. I felt depleted at the end, and realized I should have eaten and drank more water.

While I remember bits and pieces of the early and middle sections of the hike in ‘95, the second half is a blur of exhaustion. At some point, Mr. G stopped delaying us with his lessons. The mission was to finish; we were determined to get to wherever we were going. We even caught up to a small group of stragglers and pushed on together. The end was tantalizingly close, seemingly around every corner, but so far away.

When we finally reached the end of the trail, we exalted. However, we realized it was not the end of the journey. We were in Macbride, near the entrance, but had no clue where to go or how long it would take to get there. Thankfully, a miracle happened: our bus drove by (who knows why), and Mr. G flagged it down. It stopped, picked us up, and drove us around the one-way loop to the beach.

When I saw the final destination (which was probably a surprise), my initial reaction was something akin to, “Why did we have to hike five miles to get here?” Now, I assume it was to wear us out and kill time. You can’t spend an entire day at the beach with sixth graders. That would have been a nightmare for the teachers and chaperones.

The Foxy Lady and I were not so lucky when we reached the Macbride end of the North Shore Trail this year. No bus passed by to pick us up. The small parking lot near the trailhead was full in the morning, forcing me to park Lola Corolla at the beach lot under the shade of a tree, so we needed to walk an additional half mile or so. I guess it was that half mile I did not walk in 1995. (Life was going to make me walk it no matter what!) It was an easy addition, though I think we took a few moments at the trailhead to hydrate before putting a bow on the hike’s 2020 version.



I don’t remember much about the beach that day in 1995. I think a snake swam past my legs while they dangled in the water from the rental boat dock, making me jump. I also remember a classmate catching a fish with a net—and the DNR fining him because it was illegal to do so in Iowa. (His mom was, I think, one of the chaperones, so she paid it on the spot.) Obviously, whatever else happened at the beach was not as special as the trek there. The hike is what has always stuck with me.

Twenty-five years to the day later, The Foxy Lady and I also ended the hike at the beach, though only to visit the facilities and check out the scene. Lots of people were there and none of them were wearing masks—just like in 1995! The DNR was out in force, checking coolers for glass and alcohol and diverting cars because the lot was full. We found a quiet grassy area with shade and a place to sit to enjoy snacks and water.

It was a beautiful, memorable day—just like it had been 25 years earlier.