We stayed overnight at Glacial Lakes State Park after doing the hike at Big Stone Lake. We had an isolated spot in the upper campground, the only ones up there, but then somebody else moved in and just ruined the neighborhood! Ha ha – well, not really. I’m such a weirdo.
The hike at Glacial Lakes would be 4.7 miles, so we decided to get up before dawn and set out before the morning sun showed up with its warming tendrils. In spite of the fact that I had a hard time sleeping that night, we did, in fact, get on the trail by 6:30 a.m. It was 64 degrees, just starting to lighten up and already very humid.
It was magical at first – blankets of foggy mist covered the low lands as we did the first leg of the hike which meandered up and down past a lake with an odd name: Signalness, AKA Mountain Lake (kind of cheeky for a place characterized by hills). There was hardly a breeze, so the surface was a “glassy sea.” We also went by a council ring – hard not to think about Elrond and the epic council at Rivendell with the members of the future Fellowship of the Ring.
By the time we were on our way back up to the campground to the second (longer) part of the hike, the sun was up over the horizon and began to make short work of the mist. As it happened, I came across a little poem by Emily Dickinson the day after that hike that described the situation perfectly:
The Sun and Fog contested
The Government of the Day –
The Sun took down his Yellow Whip
And drove the Fog away –
The next part of the hike was more meadowy. Because of the humidity, everything was charmingly dewy and I spotted my first dewy spiderweb – a work of art! Click. Then I saw another. Click. And another. Click. I was rapidly losing control over my photography impulses. I began to notice a wide difference in craftsmanship of these webs. I only saw one that looked like it had been made by a Master Craftsman. The rest were fair to middling and then there was one that had been made by a spider with a mindset like me: “Oh, is it time to build the web already? I’m too tired and the work is so tedious. What’s the least amount of effort I can put into this and still call it a web?”
I took so many spiderweb photos that I finally made a solemn and firm promise to myself not to take anymore NO MATTER WHAT. Here’s a hypothetical question: if you break a promise that you only made to yourself, does it count? Purely hypothetical, I assure you. Mostly hypothetical. Okay, you found me out – I took yet MORE photos of spider webs! There’s probably a 12-step program out there that can help me.
We came to a beautiful, wide vista and stopped to take panorama photos. It’s the kind of sight that makes you want to break out in song. “Praise God from whom all blessings flow!” We had skipped breakfast and were a little peckish, so we sat on the bench and ate our Elevation Bars (previously known as “Fake Clif Bars”), enjoying the view.
The trail wound down and around into a woodsy area after that. We saw a little walk-in campsite along the way, complete with biffy. Quaint, but a little too isolated for me, plus I require a higher standard of bathroom now.
We marched on and came out into a grassy area, where the grasses reached out and touched us with their wet fingers as we walked. I must say, we certainly appreciate the people who tend the trails at these parks. It was a lovely mown path that went hither and yon, winding around enticingly ahead of us. “The road goes ever on and on…” There were nice ridges on our left and I kept thinking how perfect it would be if a deer (with antlers preferably) would stand at the top of of one of those and let me photograph him in silhouette. Nature documentaries make it look so easy, but leave out the part about the photographer having to stick around for hours or days to get that one photo. It didn’t happen for me that day, but I like to think that it could have.
We finally got back to our campsite at 8:30 – two hours for the whole hike.
We rewarded ourselves with a pancake breakfast. The playlist was provided by a group of raucous blue jays having quite the party. I got up and tried in vain to get a photo of one of those loud but evasive birds. I could hear them all around me, but they’re very tricksy. If you could translate their jeering calls, it would be something like “catch me if you can!”
Knee Score: 7 out of 10. Although I left out the usual bit of complaining about my aches and pains, this was very up and down trail, 24 flights of stairs. But so beautiful!
This amusing bonus photo is due to the fact that I sent my BIL a couple different poses of me to choose from. He couldn’t resist.
I’ll delete this in the morning if I catch a blue jay with my camera.
Next hike: Father Hennepin State Park
Lynniebeemuseoday 
That last photo must have been taken with an extremely fast lens to catch your “Yo-yo” -like movements.
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I am an Agent of Shield, but don’t tell anyone.
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