Wednesday, August 2, 2023 Hayes Lake State Park: Sparks Flying Upwards

Continuing stories of the camping/hiking trip we took in June.

We left the idyllic realm of Lake Bronson and made our way over to Hayes Lake State Park. Like Lake Bronson, Hayes Lake was a created lake, but the way the park pamphlet describes it, it sounds like a government takeover. “…one of the first developments was to create Hayes Lake by impounding the north fork of the Roseau River.” What? You can impound a river fork? Also, “the land around the lake was once a collection of private homesteads that has been returned to the forest.” Was the forest asking for it back? Smells like eminent domain to me, but that’s not a discussion that falls into the purview of this narrative. So, back to business.

Our weather apps informed us solemnly that rain was on the horizon and we wanted to get our campsite set up before it came. Just as we were sitting down in the screen tent after getting everything up, the rain started to come down. We exchanged triumphant looks, but we triumphed too soon. We discovered something interesting now about our new screen tent. It kept out the insect riff raff, but not the rain, sadly. It has a canopy at the top so we moved our chairs toward the middle in the hopes of staying dry. Hope got soaking wet, so we abandoned ship and retreated to the tent where the tent fly kept the inside nice and dry. We stayed in our little ark for awhile, reclining and reading on our cots – not a bad way to spend the afternoon, actually. By the time suppertime came around, the skies were relatively clear and our excellent chef got to work. He also does the dishes while we’re camping, so I can’t recommend him highly enough. Sadly for you, he’s taken.

A couple little squirrels entertained us while we ate, chittering loudly, chasing each other and occasionally looking like they wanted to come into the screen tent where they might get tasty tidbits. We spent a surprising amount of time considering what names to give them, surprising considering the small length of time we’d be in relationship with them. We tossed around a few ideas: “Al” for “Squirr-al,” or just “Squittle,” which is the way Brian Jacques pronounced “squirrel” when reading aloud one of his Redwall audiobooks. I heard one squirrel say to the other “Humans are weird.” It is so.

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All that lovely rain had given birth (so it seemed) to an army of mosquitos by which I was plagued all night in our tent, so I didn’t get much sleep and was decidedly grumpy in the morning. Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward; I went into silent and moody mode. We started out on the hike around 6:00 a.m. and it began to rain. Perfect! I always appreciate it when circumstances line up with my mood, so I leaned heavily into the sense that life had wronged me terribly.

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Poor Kris attempted a little light conversation, but I was still invested in a bad attitude, so we finished the hike in silence. Sometimes I think my husband ought to receive extra crowns in heaven for his longsuffering with my occasional moodiness.

Eventually, I came out of my funk (the Holy Spirit having been tugging on my conscience), made things right with Kris and was restored to the general sense of cheer that usually characterizes me. We packed up in the pouring rain, but I had a much lighter heart. Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me…

As for the hike, I took very few photos and hardly looked around at anything, my primary goal being to get the two-mile hike done as quickly as possible. In fact, for only the second time since we started these hikes, we both completely missed the password and had to ask one of the park rangers later.

I need to absolve Hayes Lake State Park of any wrongdoing, but I could hardly wait to shake the dust of it off my feet.

Knee score: 1-2 out of 10. Very level trail.

This blog post has wronged you terribly – I shall delete it in the morning.

Next hike: Zippel Bay State Park