Stone Steps on Bear Ridge

Every Saturday from April to October, I volunteer with a trail crew in the state park. We're a strange group: a retired dentist, two college students, a nurse, a mail carrier and me, a software developer who sits at a desk all week.

Our project this year was building stone steps up a steep, muddy section of the Bear Ridge trail. Each step was a single rock weighing two to four hundred pounds. We moved them with pry bars, ropes and a lot of grunting. On a good day, we set three steps.

It's slow, hard and filthy work. I love it more than almost anything. There's something about lifting a stone that might stay in place for a hundred years. My hands have calluses. My back is stronger than it's ever been.

In October, we set the forty-seventh and final step. A family came hiking up right as we finished. A little boy hopped up every step, counting out loud, and at the top, he turned and said, "Thank you for the stairs." The dentist teared up. So did I.