Tettegouche State Park: Up and Down, Up and Down

The headline shocker here is that Tettegouche State Park has NO SIGN. We thought we must have just missed it, so I asked one of the park employees, who looked somewhat puzzled at the question (“A sign? No, we don’t have anything like that.”). Well, there ya go. We had to improvise, posing instead by a random park events sign and having our photo editing guru (thanks Rich) insert a photo of part of a poster we saw in the park store into the sign, in addition to putting us magically in the same photograph. He is definitely overworked and underpaid.

Although we’d just been to Gooseberry Falls State Park in the morning when it was sunny and nice, by the time we got to Tettegouche, the sun had gone behind the clouds and the wind had picked up. While it wasn’t exactly the “gales of November came early,” it was a bitter cold wind, especially when we were out in the open. In addition, I was definitely beginning to feel my lack of in-shape-ness (legs tired, feet sore), so it was encouraging to note that the hike was only 2 miles – 1 mile out to Shovel Point and then 1 mile back.

As we started out we passed a sign pointing the other direction saying that if we wanted to hike only 600 more feet (after getting back) we could also go see where the Baptism River let into Lake Superior. Kris indicated he would definitely like to do that; I remained silent, hoping that the topic would never come up again. Hey, I told y’all from the beginning how wimpy I am – I see no reason to start pretending that six or so hikes have made me into hiker of unbounded energy. I was still taking photos, but that camera was starting to hang heavy around my neck (not quite as heavy as the ring around Frodo’s neck, but getting there). Beauty is always worth capturing.

The first part of the trail was largely composed of wooden steps. There were steps going up and then steps going down again. Up. Down. Many, many steps, mostly going up. We climbed them all, so the least you can do is look at them.

Along the way, we got closer to Shovel Point, but we were up on a cliff edge of sorts, so we began to see little groups of rock climbers. I’ve never understood the appeal to rock climbing/mountain climbing, but then I am not much of a thrill seeker.

At Shovel Point we sat and had our energy bars, but were so buffeted by cold winds that there was no desire to linger. Still, to look out on all that powerful moving water is a wondrous thing – it grabs hold of you and keeps your gaze, the unheard voice saying “Look at me!”

On the way back, we stopped and talked to the head of the climbing expedition, a nice young man overseeing even younger men and women. He was a stalwart fellow that had grown up in northern Minnesota. He pointed out the fallen Tettegouche Arch, which I had taken a photo of earlier, not knowing what it was. The arch fell some 4-5 years ago and caused quite a bit of shock and dismay among the locals. Gordon Lightfoot could have done a good ballad about it: “The Fall of the Tettegouche Arch.”

When we arrived back at the beginning, it turned out Kris had not forgotten about the extra little hike down to Baptism River. Rats. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, so down we went. Down, down, down, down… It turned out to be a sweet, quiet little beach where the river got gently swallowed up into the lake. I walked across the rocks, savoring that unique sound of boots crunching into the stones, and looked for a time into the shimmering reflections of autumn in the water.

Why did I have to be talked into coming here? I need to learn to be more willing to push myself, to see more, do more…

Before we left the north shore the next morning, I did get to indulge in a few minutes of my favorite pastime up there: picking up rocks, looking for agates. I didn’t find any, but the joy is in the looking, too.