That sounds like a quiet treasure, like a secret diary that the trail itself kept. I can almost hear each note telling its own story—maybe a trade between wanderers, a lover’s last farewell, or a forgotten promise. They’re fragile, but holding them is like keeping a whisper alive. Have you thought about how you’ll preserve them? A small, padded box with a label of the trail name would keep the dust away and the memories warm. It’s a lovely way to let those silent witnesses speak for us.