We arrived at the trailhead around 5pm with our backpacks filled to the brim for two nights of backpacking and camping at Stanley Hot Springs. My pack weighed 35-40 pounds. The hike into Stanley was going to be roughly 6 miles and mostly uphill.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into, yet I was eager for the adventure and a chance to spend quality time with Lawrence. Looking up at those towering trees and breathing in the clean mountain air, I felt this rush of excitement. I work out regularly and consider myself in good shape, so I was confident my body could handle whatever this trail threw at me.

The Climb Begins

We began our trek up the trail at approximately 5:30pm. Almost immediately, I started to regret my uncomfortable pack and how heavy it was. I questioned whether I really needed all that stuff. Still, I carried on with some encouragement from Lawrence and the promise of hot springs waiting for us.

The views opening up behind us were incredible though. Every time we stopped to catch our breath, I’d turn around and stare at the valleys spreading out below us. “This is amazing,” I kept telling Lawrence. Despite the heavy pack and the burning in my legs, I couldn’t get over how beautiful this place was.

I was sweaty and hot, and we had to take several breaks along the way. I had no idea it was going to be so challenging, but honestly, I was kind of loving it too. This trail really took it out of me, but there was something about pushing my body like this that felt incredible.

Finally, at about 5 miles in, I began to feel like I couldn’t continue hiking. My pack was hurting my neck and back—it was just too heavy. My feet and knees felt like they were going to give out. Yet we carried on because Lawrence was convinced we were almost there.

The Wrong Turn

With chocolate and water in hand, we continued. At about the 5-mile mark, we passed a fork in the road. At this point, we should only have about one mile left to the hot springs. I felt a sense of relief and thought, “Okay, I can do this. We’re almost there.”

Even though we had no map or GPS to guide us, Lawrence had been here before, so surely he knew the way. We were completely off the grid with no phone service.

We took a left at the fork. The trail continued uphill through forest and rock slides. We trudged through the mud with excitement, ready to finally get to the springs and camp for the next couple of days. It was starting to get dark, and we should have come to a river crossing that signals you’re almost at the springs.

Finally, we arrived at a place up high but still near water. Lawrence looked at me and said, “We have hiked seven and a half miles. I think I fucked up and we took a wrong turn.”

My heart sank, but honestly? Part of me started laughing. “Are you serious right now?” I said. “Seven and a half miles? Lawrence, we just hiked seven and a half miles!”

The sun was setting. It was getting darker and colder. “What are we going to do?” I asked. I was mentally and physically exhausted, but I was also kind of amazed at what my body had just accomplished. I wanted to cry, but I was also proud of how far we’d come.

The Man on the Mule

Lawrence suggested we take a break, make some food, and come up with a plan. As he cooked noodles, he said I could leave my pack there and we could backtrack to find the hot springs. He was considering running back for it after I was safely in camp. At this point, it was hard to walk, let alone with a 40-pound pack on my back.

This wasn’t what we had planned at all. It was approximately 8:30 p.m., and we should have been relaxing in the hot springs by now. As we discussed our options while eating noodles, a man riding a mule—with another in tow—came down the trail.

I couldn’t help but laugh again. “Of course, there’s a guy on a mule!” I said to Lawrence. “Because this day needed to get even more interesting!”

Lawrence asked him if he knew where the springs were from there. “Yes, you missed your turn at that first fork in the road,” he said, then continued his way with his mules.

That turn we missed was the fork in the road. We took a left when we should have taken a right. The wrong turn was miles back down the trail. At this point, I was struggling to keep my composure. I suggested to Lawrence we should set up camp nearby for the night and try again in the morning. I didn’t see how I was going to make it back that far.

The Push Forward

Lawrence looked at me and said, “Your brain is trying to convince you that your body is shutting down. You are strong and capable. Don’t let your mind convince you otherwise. We are not staying here. We need to get to the hot springs tonight.”

I still felt like I might pass out from exhaustion. Lawrence said, “You’re amazing. You already hiked seven and a half miles uphill with that ridiculous pack on. You can do this.”

He was right. I had just done something I’d never done before. My body was tired, but it wasn’t broken. Knowing I’d already hiked that far made me feel pretty badass.

“I fucked up, so I’m going to carry your pack the rest of the way,” he said. I looked at him in disbelief. “You’re crazy. How are you going to do that?”

Lawrence picked up my pack along with his own and started moving down the trail. I carried one canvas bag with some food in it and suddenly felt like I could fly. Without that weight on my back, I had so much more energy than I’d thought possible.

Before I knew it, Lawrence seemed to be practically running down the trail. Before long, I began to feel sweaty and nauseous. I called for him to stop for a moment. I threw down my grocery bag, knelt, and began to vomit and cry at the same time.

But you know what? Even in that moment, I felt strong. This wasn’t failure—this was what it looked like to push past every limit I thought I had.

The Final Push

After what must have been 10 p.m., we made it back to the fork in the road—the wrong turn that had taken us three miles off course. At this point, we knew we were almost there, so we hustled down the hill to the river crossing as quickly as possible.

We both managed to soak our boots in the creek, and I almost lost our bag of food. When I caught it at the last second, I held it up like a trophy. “Still got it!” I shouted, and Lawrence’s laughter echoed through the canyon.

We persevered. Once we crossed the creek in our now sopping wet boots, completely out of breath, we charged up the hill—the last hill before the springs. It was still about half a mile up, though it seemed longer.

But then, suddenly, we were there. It was dark and almost 11 p.m. Even with headlamps on, it was hard to see. I must say I had never felt more exhausted in my life, but I’d also never felt more accomplished. We quickly set up our tent and hopped in the hot springs.

What I Discovered

The sense of relief that came over me is hard to put into words. I was both relieved and amazed that Lawrence had somehow managed to carry both of our packs for more than three miles. There was a sense of awe and admiration for this man. I was so thankful that we made it to our destination. I was also grateful that Lawrence didn’t let me give up or stay lost in the forest.

But more than that, I realized something important about myself. I’m a lot stronger than I thought I was. Not just physically—though hiking over 12 miles with a heavy pack proved I could handle way more than I gave myself credit for. But mentally too. When everything went wrong, I didn’t fall apart. I found humor in the chaos. I kept going even when I wanted to quit.

Sometimes, we have to push past the discomfort and pain to get to our destination. It’s okay to have help getting there. You’ll be amazed at what you can do once you push beyond your comfort zone. Had it not been for Lawrence’s strength and words of encouragement, I probably wouldn’t have made it to the springs that night.

And I also wouldn’t have discovered that I belong in wild places, that my body is capable of incredible things, and that I can find joy even in the most challenging moments. When we got lost, I laughed. When faced with more miles than expected, I marveled at the beautiful wilderness around us. When my body reached its limits, I found out it had more to give.

You just never know the positive impact your words and example can have on someone. I realized that I’m stronger than I thought. When I felt like giving up, I kept going, one step at a time. Three weeks into my recovery journey, that night at Stanley taught me I was ready for whatever came next.

About the Author

Erika Solberg is a licensed real estate agent serving North Idaho since 2019. Originally from Southern California, Erika moved to Idaho in 2011 and fell in love with the Northwest’s natural beauty. With over 8 years of experience in the real estate industry, she specializes as both a buyer’s and seller’s agent throughout communities including Coeur d’Alene, Post Falls, Hayden, Sandpoint, Rathdrum, and Spirit Lake.

When she’s not helping families find their perfect Idaho home, you can find Erika exploring the state’s incredible wilderness areas with her kids and family. She began her recovery journey in July 2025 and is passionate about sharing stories of growth, resilience, and authentic connection. Erika believes that both finding your dream home and finding your authentic self require courage, perseverance, and the willingness to see beauty even in unexpected detours.

Erika brings the same determination to real estate that she brings to her personal adventures—never giving up, always finding the joy in the journey, and supporting others through their most important transitions.

Connect with Erika for your North Idaho real estate needs through The Agency Coeur d’Alene.

<p>The post Finding Strength Beyond My Limits: A Journey Beyond and to Stanley Hot Springs first appeared on nEveresting Recovery.</p>

In life, people are often measured by their worst moments, especially when those moments are for all to see online. In order to truly understand someone, we need to look beyond a single, shadowed moment to see the arc of their journey. Lawrence Long’s story is a powerful example of this arc. He isn’t defined by a dark time in his past but by the self-reflection, growth, and service that followed.

A Journey of Transformation

Since Lawrence began taking steps to rebuild his life, I’ve had the privilege of witnessing his dedication firsthand. He’s not only moved beyond the struggles of his past but has built a future grounded in sobriety, introspection, service, and meaningful relationships. His commitment to change goes beyond becoming a better father; it’s about becoming a better man.

Lawrence has proven that even in our darkest moments, we have the power to choose strength and commitment. His journey of self-awareness and growth is a powerful example to others who may feel defined by a misstep. He’s shown that real strength is in how we rebuild.

-Jennifer Loree Byrd

He’s invested years in developing emotional resilience and self-awareness, working to understand the patterns that led him down destructive paths. This deeper work, supported by friends, professionals, and community, has transformed him into someone who faces challenges with purpose and strength.

A Loving and Present Father

With nearly 30 years of experience working with children as a coach, teacher, and ropes course facilitator, I’ve seen countless parent-child dynamics, and witnessing Lawrence rebuild his relationship with Julian and Major was uplifting. When his sons visited my home in 2020, his love for them was tangible. They reconnected over art, outdoor adventures, silliness, and quiet conversations that deepened their bond after the years apart.

Despite the challenges of reestablishing a relationship over a short time, Lawrence’s commitment to his sons has only strengthened. Unfortunately, Ms. Long has chosen to keep the boys separated from him since 2020. I only hope he has that chance to reconnect with them again and be an integral part of their lives in their adolescent years.

Protection and Progress

As a mother myself, I deeply understand the instinct to protect one’s child. We make countless decisions with their health and well-being as our guide. In Ms. Long’s case, her choice to cut communication was, I believe, driven by a genuine concern for her sons’ safety, based on Lawrence’s past struggles.

However, while she acted out of caution, I’ve had the privilege of observing Lawrence’s journey firsthand and witnessing the steady, meaningful changes he’s made. Unlike Ms. Long, who knew only the man he once was, I’ve seen his growth in real time. I set boundaries but remained present, watching as Lawrence approached each misstep as an opportunity to learn, showing courage and resilience through the process.

Where some might anticipate the worst, I have come to see a man who has grown into a positive, steady force in his community. 

A Broader Dedication  to Fatherhood

Despite his inability to parent at this time, he’s extended this commitment to fatherhood as part of a team with the Spokane Fatherhood Initiative, where they mentor and train other men in healthy parenting strategies.

Through this role, Lawrence has helped raise funds, developed infrastructure, co-facilitated classes, and built a new class that helps fathers develop healthier relationships in mind, body, and spirit. This has given him opportunities to lead by example and be vulnerable by sharing his own journey.

A Positive Influence and Role Model

Lawrence’s impact reaches beyond his sons and SpoFI—he also became a vital influence in my son Trey’s life. As an adopted child himself, Lawrence understood the nuances of loss and identity and used his experiences to mentor Trey. Lawrence made a deliberate choice to be a stable, supportive figure in his life, teaching him the importance of self-reflection and maturity. Through his actions, he showed Trey that one’s true character is shaped not by isolated mistakes but by the choices we make to move forward.

More Than a Mistake: A Man Committed to Change

Lawrence’s journey isn’t about erasing a mistake or denying a dark time; it’s about proving that a single ugly period in one’s life doesn’t define a person. For those who only saw Lawrence at a difficult time, it’s easy to let that chapter define him. But those who know him now see that difficult period as a single sentence within the arc of his journey.

Lawrence has proven that even in our darkest moments, we have the power to choose strength and commitment. His journey of self-awareness and growth is a powerful example to others who may feel defined by a misstep. 

He’s shown that real strength is in how we rebuild.

About the Author: This personal account was written by a long-time educator and child development professional with nearly 30 years of experience working with families in the Spokane area. Jen Loree Byrd and Lawrence were partners and remain good friends.

Lawrence Long continues his work with the Spokane Fatherhood Initiative and Reclaim Project Recovery, helping other fathers build healthy relationships with their children through education, mentoring, and support programs.

<p>The post Beyond a Dark Time – Embracing the Growth of Lawrence Long, a Man Who Chose Change first appeared on nEveresting Recovery.</p>

<p>The post Seeing the Forest through the Trees first appeared on nEveresting Recovery.</p>

Beautiful long read, summarized below. Love it!

Richardson’s intimate reflection dives into her transformation from a schoolgirl who loathed running to an avid runner inextricably tied to her urban environment. Drawing inspiration from Thoreau’s romantic notions of nature, she ponders upon his limited perception of women’s role in nature exploration, contrasting it with her personal experiences running amidst cityscapes.

Her runs unveil the many faces of her city – the beautiful and the blighted, the organic and the artificial. Facing her fears, she ventures into areas deemed unsafe, braving potential confrontations with unpredictable creatures, both animal and human. Despite these challenges, the joy she derives from running – the thrill of surmounting steep inclines, the serenity of pre-dawn sprints, and the solidarity amongst fellow runners – outweighs any anxiety.

Running provides her a tranquil escape, mitigating her fears and strengthening her sense of community. Carson concludes by questioning Thoreau’s belief in the preservation of “wildness”, positing that while urban development might erode this “wildness”, the primal connection she feels with nature through her runs reinstates her place within it.

<p>The post “Why I Run: On Thoreau and the Pleasures of Not Quite Knowing Where You’re Going” first appeared on nEveresting Recovery.</p>