Shopping Carts in Paradise?

A few weeks ago, my bride came across a promo for the 365 Adventure Challenge and suggested we take it on. The idea is that we hike a total of 365 miles within a year.

I, too, thought it’d be a fun challenge we could pursue together, so I sent in the obligatory fee that covered tee shirts, patch, and sticker. Thus far, we’ve reached 3% of the goal.

Got a ways to go.

It is a challenge, because we have to average a mile a day, and there aren’t too many days I have free to go take a hike (no jokes, please!); consequently, when a few hours are available, I’m thinking, “Where’s a good trail nearby.”

Honestly, there aren’t too many that don’t require a bit of a drive. White Pines State Park isn’t too far away, and has several miles of trails, so we’ll get there eventually in the next few months. There are a few others within a 30-minute drive, as well. All on the list.

But on Thanksgiving morning, we had just a couple of hours to try squeezing in a few miles. Not wanting to waste time driving, we headed about ten minutes away across the Rock River to the Hennepin Feeder Canal Trail parking lot on Route 40 near I-88.

The primary trail—the one most people use—is a flat asphalt and crushed stone trail that begins in Rock Falls about 1 mile northeast of where we parked. If one were so inclined, he could make quite a lengthy multi-day bike journey, for the trail covers a total of 155 miles, connecting with the Hennepin Canal Parkway trail.

So, for example, we could hop on our bikes at home, cross the Rock River on the pedestrian bridge about a mile away, pick up the Feeder Canal path on the other side of the bridge, and ride south on the feeder path for 30 miles. At that point, we could head west for 34 miles to the Mississippi River, or we could turn left and ride east for 26 miles. Somewhere the trail picks up again and goes all the way to Joliet, from what I understand.

That’s for another day. On Thanksgiving, we were walking, and not for all that long. And we wanted to walk in the woods, not on asphalt and rock.

A better path

An out-of-towner might never realize it, but parallel to the smooth, level asphalt trail is another trail in the woods. Most locals who know about it use it as a mountain bike trail, but I prefer to hike it. The terrain is far more interesting than the nearby paved trail.

I’m not sure how long the wooded trail is. It begins a short distance from the feeder canal trailhead at the edge of Nims Park. I hiked the section from Nims Park to Route 40 many times with a loaded backpack to prepare for my first backpacking hike a few years ago. But the wooded trail continues south from Route 40 for (to me) an unknown distance.

It was this section we hiked last week.

Wasn’t the most beautiful hiking weather. Wasn’t the worst—at least it wasn’t raining or sleeting. It was dreary, cold, and windy, though. For most of the time, the woods blocked the worst of the wind, but there was a good stretch where we were fully exposed to the brisk northwest breeze.

For my part, if I’m dressed for it, the walk in the woods compensates for a little discomfort. I enjoy the quiet, the landscape, the variety of trees and plants—even during “stick season.”

This hike began pleasantly enough. For the first ¾ of a mile, the path weaved through the quiet woods, a small stream flowing nearby. The scenery, again not gorgeous, but pleasant. This section came out of the woods to pick up the paved path under the four lanes of I-88 above. Then a faint footpath back into the woods on the other side.

The path curved inward, then down slightly, before turning right again.

That’s when I saw it.

As out of place as the proverbial bull in a china shop, a Walmart shopping cart rested a few feet off the path, vegetation beginning to envelope it.

For the next several minutes, I pondered the shopping cart.

With what was it filled before being abandoned?

Who would go to all the trouble to push the cart from Walmart (probably half a mile away) to this remote location—and why?

To be sure, the pollution bugged me. Wasn’t the first we’d seen, even in that short walk. A couple of empty beer cans, some other small pieces of human-discarded debris here and there.

But a shopping cart? What’s up with that?

“This,” I finally concluded, “can be traced back to the Fall.”

And I don’t mean Autumn. I mean the Fall, as in the Garden of Eden debacle.

I’ll be a bit gracious here and acknowledge that some trash in open spaces is there accidentally. Some. A little. Probably very little, in fact. But it happens.

A couple of weeks ago, we were hiking at a forest preserve in the Chicago burbs and passed a group of three young moms pushing strollers. About a quarter-mile later, there lying on the path, was a toy attachment from one of the strollers. I’m quite sure little junior didn’t get tired of the toys and toss it, indifferent to his natural surroundings.

But let’s face it. The empty beer and soda cans, McDonalds bags of empty burger and fries wrappers, jumbo drink cups, lids, and straws, and various and sundry other garbage gets tossed because people are lazy, thoughtless, indifferent toward others…they’re sinners.

But a shopping cart?

This takes sinful littering to another level, doesn’t it?

I mean, the cans, bags, straws, and cups were all paid for when the litterbug bought his consumables. But last I knew, Walmart wasn’t loading up your purchases in the shopping cart expecting you to take the cart with you when you left the store property!

Someone stole that buggy.

Why?

Was the stuff inside the buggy stolen, too? I’ve heard stories of some thieves’ tactics when ripping off a cartload of stuff from Walmart. Maybe the stuff inside wasn’t stolen, but how did the cart end up in the woods…and why?

Perhaps some kids were just having some “innocent” juvenile fun. One hopped in the buggy, another on the front end, others pushed…and pushed…and pushed. Across the road, down the highway, through the canal trail parking lot, along the path. Until they got tired of the game and just shoved the cart down the trail into the woods.

Then again, it could’ve been a homeless person’s mode of transporting his few earthly belongings. But he needed an upgrade, so he captured a bigger cart and abandoned the one he outgrew. Not likely, but perhaps.

Regardless the reason, there can be no explanation that justifies the buggy in the woods. An explanation, perhaps…but no justification.

And whatever the explanation, I propose we could trace it back to the Fall.

I mean, could you imagine strolling through Eden and coming upon a half-overgrown Walmart cart? Could you even imagine Walmart in Eden???

Me neither.