A few years ago, I gave up a successful career in the pharmaceutical industry due to burnout. I put in way too much time during the COVID-19 pandemic. I worked for Moderna, which developed the first vaccine, and spent endless hours at a desk, ensuring information was transferred to overstrained drug regulators.

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At least, those were the colorful ways Carrie Hugo, from Idaho’s Bureau of Land Management, described their peaceful cheeps-and-chirps as she led us along the half-mile trail beside the Waterlife Discovery Center (WDC) at 1591 Lakeshore Dr in Sagle, ID, a 45-minute drive north of Coeur d’Alene.

Aside from a quick glance at a flash of wings, the birds stayed mostly out of sight, hidden in the branches and bramble that surrounded us. But Hugo, who’s been studying the birds of Northern Idaho for twenty-five years, can identify the species by its sound and habitat.

For those who might be skeptical about the accuracy of Hugo’s identifications, some of our companions on the trail pulled out their phones and used the free Merlin App, which records birdsong and provides immediate identifications. It confirmed Hugo’s exactitude.

At one point, we stopped and looked across the roadway. A Sandpiper glided through the air, and a short while later a swallow zoomed, twisting and twirling.

“Is there water over there?” Hugo asked.

Indeed, there was an oxidation pond just out of sight. Not only can she identify birds without seeing them, but by seeing birds she can envision the world that surrounds them without viewing it. It’s as though, by studying Aves, she’s gained superpowers. Blindfold her and leave her in the woods; she’ll listen to the tweets and describe the habitat.

When we finished our walk, we went inside the cabin at the WDC where Hugo provided a fascinating and fun presentation on birds. Did you know that they can sleep with one eye open? Imagine a mama duck protecting its fluffy babies at night, half its brain asleep and resting, the other half, watching for danger. Amazing stuff.

I don’t consider the half-mile walk I took this morning as one of the 50 hikes I’ll be completing. But I do consider this another tip for enjoying Northern Idaho. The WDC overlooking Lake Pend Oreille is a great place to spend an afternoon with both the kids and the grandparents.

Historically a fish hatchery, it now serves as a self-guided educational facility. In addition to the flat, easy-to-traverse trail marked with informative signs, the WDC features:

· An amphitheater with fish viewing windows for admiring rainbow trout

· A spring-fed stream and pond

· Milkweed and native plant gardens

· Poster exhibits, fish identification information, and threatened species information.

· A dock providing access to beautiful Lake Pend Oreille

· The Discovery Center Cabin filled with educational information - staffed by volunteers and open from 10:00 AM to 2:00 PM, on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays throughout the summer.

It’s not uncommon to spot bald eagles flying over the lake. Bring a picnic lunch and enjoy.

Oh, and download that Merlin App. When I returned home from the WDC, I sat out on my back deck that overlooks the clear water of the Clark Fork River and listened to the sweet songs of:

· American Robin

· Northern Yellow Warbler

· Cedar Waxwing

· Western Flycatcher

· American Crow

· Violet-green Swallow

Listen with me:

I finally mustered the courage to step on the bathroom scale and saw 144 displayed on the small electronic screen. Until this point, throughout my adult life, my weight had ranged between 118 and 126 pounds. At 5’4” and in my late forties, 144 is still considered a healthy weight, but it felt like a very big deal.

Worse, it wasn’t just my weight. At night, in bed, my lower back started to hurt. The ache would wake me at 2:00 a.m., then again at 3:00, 3:30, and 4:00. Trying to stretch out the discomfort, I’d roll onto my side and pull one leg toward my chest, leaving the other straight. When that didn’t work, I’d flip onto my back in corpse pose, then shift to the other side and try the fetal position. No matter how I arranged my torso and limbs, the discomfort persisted.

During the day, when my husband Ken and I went for our regular 3-mile walk, my back would twinge as soon as we hit the hillside half a mile from the house. By the time we returned, my back felt frozen stiff. I had to lower myself onto the living room floor and stretch slowly before I could even reach my sneakers.

Ken had suggested hiking poles before. In the fall of 2019, while planning our first ascent of Scotchman’s Peak—an eight-mile hike in Northern Idaho near the Montana border—he recommended them.

“No thanks,” I said, preferring to keep my hands free in case I slipped on the rocky talus fields. Besides, let’s face it, occasionally a young hottie will walk down a hill with a long wooden stick in hand that they found along the trail, or a lacquered staff purchased at a gift store inside a national park, but metal trekking poles are most commonly seen among more mature hikers. I didn’t want to consider myself a member of that lot yet.

By 2025, I had no choice if I wanted to keep hiking the trails I love. The strain on my back had become too much. Ken bought me a pair of Kelly-green hiking poles for Christmas. One sleepless night, as the familiar dull pain woke me, I realized the poles weren’t going to solve everything. I decided I should lose some weight, too. I went online and purchased monthly GLP-1 injections.

The next morning, I logged in and canceled the order. I’m terrified of needles, and it just seemed like a bad idea. My weight wasn’t terrible. Instead, I started Pilates three times a week. The stretches helped. Then I added running and weight training. I became more disciplined with movement than I had been in years and even got certified to teach group fitness classes.

I’m now down to 130 pounds. I feel strong. I can see my abs again, and my back no longer aches at night. But when I hike, I still use the poles. Studies show that trekking poles transform a hike into a full-body workout, engaging the arms and core while increasing calorie burn without raising perceived exertion (Saunders et al., 2008).

Knowing the benefits didn’t stop me from turning to Ken this morning as I reached for my poles and asking, “Do my hiking sticks make me look old?”

He rolled his eyes, smiled, and tapped me on the tush with one of his own poles. “You look beautiful.”

I grinned as we walked out of the driveway, accompanied by the rhythmic click-clack of our rubber tips digging into the dirt.

What I’ve learned:

• Trekking poles really do reduce back strain and make longer hikes more enjoyable.

• Strength training and consistent movement in your 40s and 50s can be transformative.

• Looking “old” is far better than not getting out on the trails at all.

Have you ever resisted a piece of hiking gear or a healthy habit, only to discover it made all the difference? I’d love to hear your story in the comments.

Saunders MJ, Hipp GR, Wenos DL, Deaton ML. Trekking poles increase physiological responses to hiking without increased perceived exertion. J Strength Cond Res. 2008 Sep;22(5):1468-74. doi: 10.1519/JSC.0b013e31817bd4e8. PMID: 18714242.

The Blue Heron Café (486260 US-95, Samuels — just north of Sandpoint) is one of those magical places that perfectly matches the spirit of this 50 at 50 journey. You pull up to what looks like a regular gas station/mini-mart, walk through the front, and step out the back into a completely different world: peaceful patio seating with gorgeous views of Walsh Lake and the mountains. It’s the kind of place where you could hold a small celebration (or just celebrate finishing another hike on your list).

I stopped here recently after exploring trails at Stampede ORV Park. The day was sunny and 67 degrees — perfect Northern Idaho weather. The food was exactly what my body needed after hiking:

• I had the classic BLT — fresh, crispy, and satisfying.

• My husband loved The Leftover: roasted turkey, cranberry, stuffing on sourdough. Big thumbs up.

Pro Tip: Ask for outdoor seating right away. The contrast between the front and the back patio is part of what makes it so magical.

This one’s going on my growing list of favorite post-hike stops in Northern Idaho.

Blue Heron Café Hours:

• Sunday: 6:00am – 2:00pm

• Monday: 6:00am – 2:00pm

• Tuesday: 6:00am – 7:30pm

• Wednesday: 6:00am – 7:30pm

• Thursday: 6:00am – 7:30pm

• Friday: 6:00am – 8:30pm

• Saturday: 6:00am – 8:30pm

Breakfast is served until 11:00am.

What about you? What’s a unique spot you’ve discovered while wandering? Share in the comments.

We’ve received our first Readers’ Hike submission! Check out this wonderful excerpt from subscriber Teresa Pesce’s book Advice, in which she beautifully challenges the ‘over the hill’ narrative.

“The phrase “over the hill” originated in England in the 1900’s and referred to turning 40 years old because that age represented the middle of life. Today those black, “over the hill” birthday balloons are available for every decade after twenty! They jokingly remind us we are accelerating down the mountain of life right to our funeral.

The joke isn’t funny, and it plays a trick on us that we miss. If the years of moving up the hill are aspirational, creative, and financially progressive, what is at the top? A pleasant plateau where we arrive, rule, and reign? Apparently not. There’s just a black balloon announcing the beginning of the end.

‘Over the hill’ manages to completely ignore the value, worth, honor, and enjoyment of half of your life! And it is the half where you are knowledgeable, skilled, and mature enough to appreciate life as youth never can. It is the half where experience mellows to wisdom and the wanderings of lust become the home where love lives.”

Interested in more of Teresa’s thoughts? Her book Advice is available on Amazon now.

“What’s your take on aging and hiking? Have you had a powerful midlife moment on the trail? Share your story in the comments or submit your own Readers’ Hike piece! Whether you’re 25 or 95 — your voice belongs here.”

That was then. This is now.

A day ago, I stood in a pine forest at Stampede Off-Road Vehicle (ORV) Park in Naples, Idaho, net in hand, chasing butterflies with limited success. I sprinted up hills, and through branch-littered grasslands after yellow swallowtails, blue coppers, and a small black butterfly I couldn’t immediately identify. I was sweaty, exhausted, and—as my husband laughingly pointed out—only caught about 30% of the ones I pursued.

Were butterflies always this fast?

I was hunting the flying insects as a volunteer for the Idaho Fish and Game (IDFG) Butterfly Atlas project, which tracks and documents butterfly species across the state. Butterflies are excellent indicators of ecosystem health—tiny canaries in the coal mine that can signal problems before they become obvious in larger animals.

The Monarch is the most famous example. They were once abundant in Idaho, with estimates ranging in the millions in the early 1990s. Since then, their numbers have plummeted. While multiple factors are involved—including habitat loss—the widespread introduction of neonicotinoid pesticides in the late 1990s has been particularly devastating for pollinators. These chemicals spread easily into groundwater and onto non-target plants.

In 2024, according to an IDFG report, Monarch sightings in the Panhandle were extremely rare. The impact ripples outward as well: raccoons, cats, owls, and snakes eat the birds, bats, and spiders that feed on the poisoned pollinators.

That, however, was not what I was thinking about as the fairy-like creatures darted away just out of reach. I was more worried about tripping over a log while running in heavy hiking boots and awkwardly swinging my net.

“I have to work on my agility training,” I panted to my husband.

Still, I managed to capture, photograph, and release three butterflies without harming them (or myself). According to the eButterfly app, one was a Boisduval’s Blue with 96% confidence, and the other two were most likely Common Ringlets.

Aside from the butterflies, Stampede ORV Park proved to be a lovely spot. Despite its name (I assume there are days when it is filled with the screams of 2-stroke-engine motorcycles and teenagers atop ATVs), it was wonderfully quiet that day.

The rolling terrain, the 3.2-mile main loop trail, and several shorter connector trails (some closed to ORVs) made for a peaceful morning in nature. It even has a bathroom and space for kids to run around. If you’re in the Boundary County area and looking for a family-friendly outdoor spot, it’s worth a visit.

It served as a perfect warm-up for the bigger adventure ahead. In just a couple of weeks, I start my Hike Northern Idaho: 50 at 50 challenge. I’m celebrating turning 50 by completing 50 hikes starting on my birthday: June 11, 2026. I can’t wait to begin.

If you see butterflies this summer, consider downloading the free eButterfly app and contributing your own sightings to the Idaho Butterfly Atlas. And if you’d like to follow along on my hiking journey, I’d love to have you join me here on Hike Northern Idaho: 50 at 50.

As I embark on my year of 50 hikes to celebrate turning 50, I’m reminded that the best parts of the trail are often the small discoveries.

Your challenge: This week (or weekend!), go outside and find your own treasure. Snap a quick photo if you can, then come back and tell us about it in the comments below:

• What did you find?

• Where was it?

• Why did it feel special?

Bonus: Tag a friend who needs a nature reset or share on Notes with #HikeNorthernIdaho50at50.

I can’t wait to see (and maybe feature!) your finds in an upcoming post. Let’s celebrate the little joys together!

Happy Hiking!

Jen C.

This list is being populated as I finish each hike and will be updated every Friday until all 50 hikes are complete.

Click here for the Complete Index of Northern Idaho: 50 for 50 Hikes

It’s the unfiltered journal of a woman stepping into her best decade—one foot in the wilderness, the other firmly planted in everyday life.

What you’ll find here:

• Deeper stories from the trail and from home (the behind-the-scenes stories, the messy real-life moments, the unexpected lessons, the quiet victories, the fears I face at 50, and the joys I discover along the way).

• “Off the Trail” Chats—Threads about life, nature, aging, and why we stay “on the trail.” Paid subscribers can also initiate new Chat Threads.

• Bonus Trail Stories: Read about hikes around Yellowstone in June and in Colorado in September.

This section is designed to make paid subscribers feel like true co-adventurers rather than just readers. It’s intimate, interactive, and supportive—a community of people cheering each other on as we all move through this season of life.

If the main feed is the view from the mountaintop, Off the Trail is the campfire conversation afterward—honest, warm, and full of real connection.

Remember, this is a year-long journey. After the 50 hikes, we’ll transition to a lighter, free-focused publication (or new chapter) with options for continued support.

Welcome to the inner circle. I’m so glad you’re here.

Keep it simple — 100 to 400 words is perfect. Even a single paragraph + a photo works beautifully. No pressure to write an essay.

What to share (anything goes):

• A hike you loved and why

• How the trail made you feel stronger, calmer, or more alive

• A funny mishap, a beautiful view, or a surprising wildlife encounter

• Seasonal tips, wildflowers, or favorite local spots

• Reflections on turning 50, getting outside, or anything the mountains taught you

How to submit (super easy):

• Click HERE and fill out the Reader’s Hike Story Form.

• I’ll read every submission. Selected stories will be featured in the Reader’s Hike or in a spotlight on the Home Page. I’ll always reach out to you first before publishing.

The trails feel better when we walk them together. Whether you’re sharing a 10-mile epic or a gentle lakeside stroll, your voice matters here.

Can’t wait to read your story.

— Jen C. 🥾

That’s why my husband and I have attended the free Idaho Fish and Game (IDFG) course “Recreating in Bear Country,” hosted by the Idaho Master Naturalists at the Waterlife Discovery Center in Sagle ID, three years running. It’s both fun and essential.

The program begins with an informative presentation. An IDFG officer explains how to distinguish grizzlies from black bears (note: it’s not by color—both can be brown) and how to behave around them. If a bear hasn’t seen you, quietly walk away. If it has,
stand your ground, talk calmly, and back away slowly once it disengages. If it approaches, wave your arms, shout, and ready your bear spray. Never run.

Then comes the hands-on excitement. IDFG uses an electronic “charging bear” I’ll call Matilda—a poster on wheels that barrels toward you at 30 mph (close to a real bear’s top speed of 40 mph). Participants practice deploying inert bear spray as Matilda charges.

I’ve faced Matilda each time I’ve taken the course—and each time I’ve fumbled the training canister too slowly. Essentially, the bear “got” me. On our most recent visit, though, the instructor noted that my deployment was good enough that, after some initial mauling, the spray would likely have deterred the bear. In a real encounter, I’d have been injured but probably survived. Progress!

Some people swear by carrying a gun instead. However, research shows bear spray is more effective: it stopped aggressive bear behavior in 92% of cases, compared to 67%
for firearms (Smith et al., 2008). After my first women’s handgun course, which I also took recently, I can confirm I’d fumble far worse under real pressure with a 9mm.

The Real Takeaway: The key to staying safe in bear country is practice. Always carry bear spray in a belt holster or on a chest rig—never buried in a backpack. Drill drawing and deploying it until it becomes muscle memory. As the course emphasizes, a few seconds can make the difference between a close call and a serious incident.

For more details on the science, see: Spray More Effective Than Guns Against Bears.

Smith, T. S., S. Herrero, T. D. DeBruyn, and J. M. Wilder. 2008. Efficacy of bear deterrent spray in Alaska. Journal of Wildlife Management 72(3): 640-645.

Coming soon…

Coming soon…

Each week, I’ll post a new challenge. Let us know how it goes in the comments!

Click here to access our first challenge.

When I was twenty in 1996, I went for a stroll with my grandmother. It was a half-mile from her barn-red ranch house, overlooking the Hammock River Marsh Wildlife Area in Clinton, Connecticut, to a sandy community beach on Long Island Sound.

She walked those quiet streets every day. She was 76 and the only woman I knew who exercised regularly. As a child, I’d never played on a school sports team, and I had not yet joined a gym. I was thin but not strong, either physically or emotionally.

As we passed small, brightly painted homes that had once been seasonal cottages owned by folks from New York City or Boston (Clinton sits halfway between the two metropolises), a woman potting petunias on her front porch waved. My grandmother waved back, her gold charm bracelet gently jingle-jangling, and called out a greeting.

When we walked on, the scent of salt water grew stronger. The ocean became visible. A gull floated on the water, searching for baitfish just below the surface. The current carried it closer to black jetties, stone barriers meant to protect the coast from the wind and water that would otherwise erode it. The bird showed no signs of fear of the water, rocks, or predators she could not see coming.

I looked over at my grandmother, who wore linen pants and a bright short-sleeved blouse that revealed age spots on the soft skin of her arms. Her face was lit only by a touch of blush and a subtle lipstick. She was beautiful and moved through the world with confidence and ease, like the gull. I was nothing like her. Instead, I felt like a feral cat, scared of everything, including people, life, and the future. I was always ready to run or scratch.

As we stepped into the sand, I wondered, would I ever be like her? Would I ever enjoy life? If yes, when? I turned to my grandmother and asked, “At what age were you happiest?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, she said, “50. I had the wisdom of age and a fit, strong body.”

I’ve never forgotten those words. I never gained the easy confidence Grandma had, but I found my happiness through nature, exercise, and my beloved husband, Ken. I live in Northern Idaho (ID), overlooking the clear waters of the Clark Fork River and the green mountain pines of Delyle Ridge, nearly two hours northeast of Spokane, Washington, and three miles west of the Montana state line.

I’m a certified Idaho Master Naturalist, NASM-certified as a group fitness instructor, and an intermediate hiker. Ken and I married at the top of Scotchman’s Peak (a challenging ~8-mile hike) about 3 miles from the border of Montana, in 2023. Mountain goats and butterflies surrounded us. We typically take easier treks.

I’m 49 now. Unlike on the day I took that walk in 1996, I wear glasses, I have hot flashes, and I have an odd burning sensation on my tongue that, according to my dentist, is probably caused by hormonal changes. Despite all that, I know that Grandma was right, 50 will be my best year yet, and I’m turning that belief into action.

I will turn 50 on June 11, 2026. In honor of this milestone, I will hike and write about 50 different trails in Northern Idaho beginning the week of my birthday. Some will be easy. I’ll do the 3-mile amble along the edge of Lake Pend Oreille, in Sandpoint, ID. Most will be moderate, like the 9.8-mile Grouse Mountain Trail in Sagle. I’ll do some hard ones in too, like the 6.5-mile Mickinnick Trail in Ponderay, and a revisit to Scotchman’s Peak. When winter comes, I may have to get out my snowshoes.

Wherever I go, I hope you’ll join me — whether you’re lacing up your own boots in Northern Idaho or just coming along from your armchair. I’ll invite readers to suggest hikes and share their own hiking experiences. I’ll create a searchable, complete index of 50 hikes in Northern Idaho.

For paid subscribers, I’ll also offer opportunities to chat about life, nature, aging, and why we stay “on the trail”. They’ll also read about what happens off the trail, and get information on a couple of bonus hikes outside Northern Idaho when I travel toward Yellowstone in June and to Colorado in September.

Help me spread Grandma’s wisdom, appreciate aging, the joy of life, movement, and nature. Subscribe to Hike Northern Idaho: 50 at 50 today.

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