Friday, September 30, 2022 Lake Bemidji State Park: Bog of Doom

Amazingly, when we made our way to Lake Bemidji State Park, we were on the last three parks of the ambitious schedule of 12 that my husband had made for us to finish in August and September of 2022. The plan was to hike Bemidji, drive to Itasca and stay at their lodge overnight, do the hike at Itasca the next day, have one more night at the lodge, and then finish off the hiking season at LaSalle State Recreation Area. You may be wondering why we forsook our lovely tent for this trip. Technology told us that the temperatures were going to get fairly low overnight and there was a possibility of rain. Now it all makes sense, doesn’t it?

The trail at Lake Bemidji was only 2 miles and was one of the few Hiking Club trails that isn’t a loop; it went out to Big Bog Lake and then back again the same way. In honor of the bogginess of it all, we will henceforth be calling this a “Bog Post.” Clever, eh? I wish I could tell you I thought of it, but that came from the funny mind of my hiking partner. He’s a witty fellow, I tell you.

The trail was wide to begin with and we almost immediately crossed over Highway 20 which was being worked on.

A bit more meandering through the woods and we came to a sign telling us that we were going to be entering the bog: The Bog Walk!

Naturally, one does not simply walk into Mordor – oh wait, I meant the Bog. If not for the boardwalk, you might end up like The Tollund Man, who was discovered in a Danish bog in 1950. There are rumors that he was a human sacrifice who ended up buried in the bog more than 2,000 years earlier, but I think maybe he was just on a hike and fell in. We can only speculate. And speaking of Mordor, it’s hard not to think about the Dead Marshes when walking through a bog. If none of these references make any sense to you, get going on reading The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien.

There was a sign telling us to make sure and stay on the boardwalk AT ALL TIMES and I thought, “Ha! As if I’d ever consider stepping off of it and going into the bog.” Then I saw something I wanted to photograph and realized that the best angle would be from farther back, just a little bit farther… Don’t worry, I didn’t step in to the bog at this time. But it was close.

There was a sign about the bog that was filled with poetic substance. Here’s an example: “An aura of mystery and beauty awaits you in the lowland bog. …The wind that causes the trees to sing and the upland vegetation to sway will seem absent in the more sheltered lowland bog. The quiet may be broken only by the repetitive song ‘Oh, Sam Peabody, Peabody,’ of the white-throated sparrow.” Wasn’t that positively inspiring? State park sign writers, you could take some lessons from that person. I just went to the internet to hear that sparrow’s song and although it took some imagination, I could almost hear the words.

Well, that’s enough of that little side excursion. I spotted the Great Bog Monster, too.

It’s a good thing we were walking through in broad daylight. There’s just enough Anne Shirley in me to think it would be very creepy to walk through it at night. And if you don’t know who Anne Shirley is, you’ll meet her in Anne of Green Gables, a book which you can read after you get done with LOTR. If you like her, then you and I are kindred spirits.

There aren’t a lot of blooming flowers this time of year, so I spent more time photographing tree branches (like those of the black spruce and the soft tamarack) and autumn colors.

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I saw a plant that looked like a fright wig and to my shock, the Picture This app identified it as my old friend Spotted Joe Pyeweed from the hike at Glacial Lakes.

Oh, Joe! What has happened to you!? The ravages of age are cruel indeed. As I considered Spotted Joe and the transformation from beautiful bloom to fright wig, a song began to emerge. If you’d like to sing along, use the tune from the hymn “Fairest Lord Jesus.”

Spotted Joe Pye-Weed
Worst name in all nature
Pink clustered blooms
On a summer’s day.
Thee, I’ll remember
Late in September
When all thy glory turns to gray.

What with one thing and another, we made our way to the Big Bog Lake and sat for a spell, eating our Clif bars, chatting quietly so as not to disturb the “aura of mystery.”

The way back was just like the way there except slightly uphill. I didn’t notice it going slightly downhill the other way. When we got close to the end, I was rewarded with the sight of some blue jays flitting around in the open. Usually, they flee when a human enters into their space, but one of them stuck around and let me take a photo. Aww….

The robin let me get even closer. That berry looks good enough to eat!

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Knee Score: 1 out of 10 on the way out, 2 out of 10 on the way back.

That’s a wrap. ‘Twould be a shame to delete all that in the morning, wouldn’t it? If it’s gone missing, look in the Bog.

Next hike: Itasca State Park