(Notes from our trip way back in September.) We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at our campsite at Bear Head Lake State Park before starting out on the 3-mile hike. We had set up camp the night before and were trying to decide whether or not to set up the screen tent when we heard thunder in the distance. Debate over. On our last trip we had discovered that our new screen tent didn’t keep out the rain, so Kris had concocted a system using plastic sheets and large binder clips to make the tent more or less rain proof. It was gratifying to be able to try it out right away, since the rain came down during supper time and we had no other place to cook our food and eat it other than in that tent. ‘Twas a thing of beauty. When we went to bed later, the rain had stopped and we heard the cries of wolves and loons in the distance, the eerie music of the wilderness.
We got on the trail mid-morning, starting out by the trail center in cool 63-degree weather. Right out of the starting gate, Kris referenced Lord of the Rings when he noticed a plant that was dead other than one blossom. “Just like in Minas Tirith,” he commented, referring to the White Tree of Gondor. Bravo! In our case, the plant was dying, whereas in LOTR, the blossom was evidence of the new growth due to the return of the king. We, too, will have a Return of the King. When He comes, He will make all things new. What a lovely thought to start the hike with!
We came to the first map and were amused to see a slug traversing along it. Kris suggested that perhaps it represented a giant slug which was making its way over the landscape. This makes a fine premise for a campy monster movie, doesn’t it? “The Giant Slug of Bear Head Lake State Park.” That’s rather an unwieldy title – one of you should come up with something better.
The path had started out wide and grassy, but it wasn’t long before the trail had become narrow and strewn with tree roots and small boulders. It was very tricky walking and I had to keep my eyes on the trail at my feet to keep from tripping. That was pretty typical of most of the trail, other than a short-ish stint on a paved road. We were walking along Bear Head Lake, but only caught glimpses of it through the trees.
Eventually we came to a spot where we could take a side path of unknown length down to the lake, and great was Kris’s shock when I suggested we take it. Having seen “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” years ago, he must have wondered if there were alien pods in our basement. I’m usually very resistant to taking one more step than necessary on these hikes. I’m ashamed to admit that to you all, but it’s true. My desire to get a good photo of the lake was at war with my wimpy spirit. The photographer won that particular war. (It must be said that later on when we’d already seen the password, we came to a fork in the road where one path would have cut off a great deal of the hiking club trail. I remarked wistfully that it would be nice to take it and Kris said, “Now there’s the woman I know and love!”)
I spotted a small dead animal on the trail. We thought it was probably a mole or a vole, maybe even a shrew. One wonders what the odds are of two animals that look alike having names that rhyme. It’s almost begging for a poem, isn’t it?
Mole or vole? Vole or Mole?
Both go underground through a hole.
Both are small and brown and furry
Both can ruin your yard in a hurry
Here’s the way to tell them apart
It’s very simple; you won’t need a chart.
Just find a dead one and do an inspection
For all the things that I’m going to mention
The vole, you see, looks like a mouse.
Its nest is below, but above ground its house.
It has long orange teeth for eating plants
This devout vegetarian won’t even eat ants.
The mole stays down under and tunnels its route,
Seems eyeless and earless but has a long snout
Its feet are like paddles, its claws are long
It doesn’t think eating insects is wrong.
Mole or vole? Vole or Mole?
You can’t just see if it digs a hole
Look at its feet, its teeth and its snout
That oughtta help you figure it out.
This time of year, you see a lot of things that are dying. Autumn leaves have a particularly glorious way of shuffling off this mortal coil, but most of the time, death in the plant world looks dark, decayed and distorted. Death isn’t supposed to be beautiful; it is the final enemy, after all. I found myself musing about being at my Mom’s death bed recently. The body she left behind certainly didn’t reflect the lovely young woman she’d been in the prime of her life. But love made the sight beautiful to me, nonetheless, a radiant autumn leaf.
As if somehow in tune with my thoughts, Kris mentioned that he’d been contemplating how a hike in September caused him to think about being in the September of his life. He began working through the calendar year on this theme. “March is the time of birth, April is a time of growth, May is the flowering of youth…” I contributed that June was the season of marrying and July was the time of our lives when we are bearing fruit. Kris picked up from there, “…and August is when the fruit is mature and ready for harvest, when our children are grown and gone and we retire from our jobs.” From there we come to September, getting older but still having energy and being active. October continues the harvest theme, perhaps with grandchildren, while November is when the snowy white hairs come, along with winter storms of aging. December takes us through those final stages of life when we look back on our legacy and January represents Death. (Seriously, doesn’t January in Minnesota often feel a little like death?) The astute among you will notice that February got dropped off this interesting tableau, but ne’er fear, we noticed that too and decided that February was that phase of life when growth happens in unseen places, getting ready for birth. See? We worked it out.
Keeping ourselves occupied in this way, we kept on walking, coming to a bench overlooking Norberg Lake, as good a place as any to take a breather and gulp down some water. It still wasn’t a hot day, but the air was laden with moisture and all the exertion had produced lots of sweat. Kris spotted what he called “a bunch of flitty birds,” up high among the tree branches so I spent some time trying to find them with my camera lens and capture them. Bah humbug. I found a woodpecker and another small brown bird that were more accommodating.
After this, it was all about pushing through to the end for me. I left Kris behind and the Lord filled my sails with a second wind that powered me back to the car. It took us about an hour and a half to complete the hike. We ended up right by the trail center, a nice air-conditioned place to rest our weary bones and have a Clif bar.
Knee score: a solid 6 out of 10, and that was with the Hiking Pole of Power that I used this time. Equivalent of 5 flights of stairs for those of you know like to know these things.
Next hike: Savanna Portage State Park
I’ll probably feed this to the mole in the morning.
Lynniebeemuseoday 