We just got back from a long weekend of camping, hiking and attending a high school graduation party. After getting set up at our first campground on Friday night, we took a little stroll around the grounds and passed a tent where a couple boys with their mom were camping (we met the dad later). We said hello and the boys came racing over to chat us up. One of them said cheerfully, “We’re homeless!” Their mom hastened to explain that they were tent camping while they were between homes. The boys were identical twins, 6 years old and just full of beans. When I told their mother that we also had twin boys, now 28 years old, she asked “Does it ever get any easier?” which made us laugh. We assured her that even with some of the challenges, our twins were a delight and a blessing, which I hope encouraged her. Meanwhile, the boys told us all about the campfire they were going to have and one of them, full of the milk of human kindness, even offered us a marshmallow. I really wanted to take a photo of them, but it seemed a little on the creepy stalker side, so I didn’t ask. When we walked back to our tent, we commented on how often you encounter really nice people when you’re camping. We also decided that when the guy from town came by selling firewood (which the boys also told us about), we’d decline – it was getting late and we just wanted to get into “bag” and go to sleep.

The guy came by with his pickup truck full of wood pieces about five minutes later and somehow the words “no thanks,” became “yes, please.” The allure of a cozy campfire is hard to turn down. Plus he had three young sons with him (ages 8-12 maybe?) all chomping at the bit to help their dad bring the wood over to our campfire. For $5 he gave us enough wood for three nights of campfires. When we told him what city we were from, he said, “I’ve taken wrestling teams down there!” His sons were very helpful and enthusiastic, which warmed our hearts.

Kris got busy cutting some kindling for the fire and then used all his campfire lore to get the fire going while I sat by in my winter coat admiring his handiwork (it was getting pretty cold by that time).

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Eventually we had a decent fire going. Ahh…one of the creature comforts of camping. We sat quietly watching and listening to the fire, occasionally talking. A tamed fire is so beautiful and mesmerizing.

When it got late, we got out our Books of Common Prayer and did our Psalm reading for the evening.

It’s hard to think of a more perfect way to end the evening.
“I will give thanks to you, O LORD, with my whole heart…”

Amen and amen.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning unless the embers of these words are still glowing.

The set-up: We were going to be driving out West to visit family and noticed that we’d be driving fairly close to three of the state parks we hadn’t been to yet. Should we take an extra day of traveling and check these hikes off our list? Of course!

Normally, I write my posts about these hikes right away, but we were pretty busy while traveling, so now as I look back, I have only cryptic notes and assorted photos to go on to re-construct our hiking experiences. Oh, and a little help still from my memory. It will have to do.

First up: Kilen Woods State Park, “nestled in the wooded hillsides and grassy ravines along the west bank of the Des Moines River.” It’s named after Agil Kilen, the original owner of most of the land. Just for fun, I looked him up on the internet and after exhaustive research that took about 60 seconds, I found him and can tell you that his middle name was Olaf (nice!) and his wife’s name was Helga. Don’t say I never do any research (until you read on further in this post).

We got there around 10:00 a.m., got our gear on and started out on the 2-mile hike. It was a pleasant morning, not too hot and the paths were easy to see and follow. We felt like we were nestled in the wooded hillsides, true to the pamphlet description. It’s always a pleasure to walk alongside a river, too.

There was some sort of flowering shrub that was in bloom and the smell was so sweet. It reminded me of mock orange, which has a heady, full-bodied aroma that swoops boldly into your nostrils and struts its stuff. We didn’t have our plant identifying app, so I’m not sure what it was. I am really just about the laziest writer when it comes to doing actual research. Sorry.

We did a lot of meandering up and down (to the tune of about 15 flights of stairs, according to my Health app), but it was early in the day and my knees were optimistic.

At one point we came to a bridge and found a sad collection of boards instead.

We talked briefly about whether or not we could just go down and back up again, a plan that would have appealed greatly to the 25-year-old versions of ourselves, but not so much to the 60’s versions. We opted for a slight detour that brought us to another bridge that brought us to the same place.

We saw a sign for Dinosaur Ridge that raised some expectations that sadly were not met. The view from the top was nice, though.

When we finally found the password, a few letters had fallen off; it was a little like playing Wheel of Fortune to figure out the actual word. By the end of the hike, we’d walked by a river, through wooded areas and also through prairie lands – diverse, indeed!

Lest I forget, I also managed to track down and photograph some exotic wildlife. I’m thinking that a chipmunk is probably exotic for someone, like maybe Eskimos.

We finished around 11:15 a.m. and gave a thumbs up to KWSP.

Knee score: 4-5 out of 10.

Lake Shetek State Park was next on our list, about an hour’s drive from Kilen Woods. The trail there was only one mile, easy peasy. Naturally, there is a lake there – you can figure out the name because you are smart people. The area was originally settled by the Dakota/Ojibwe people and the word “shetek” means “pelican” in the Ojibwe language. There came to be a settlement of immigrants there, but all 22 of them were killed in the U.S. Dakota War of 1862, so there’s some dark history to the place. The reason I’m giving you so much background information is that it was a short hike and I don’t have a lot of actual notes.

We started our hike at around 12:40 p.m. It turns out that Lake Shetek is the place of the headwaters of the Des Moines River which we encountered at Kilen Woods. We read something about the lake being formed by glacial moraines, which sounded like a dessert to me. “Yes, I’ll have the lemon glacial moraine, please.”

The hike was a simple walk across a causeway that led to Loon Island and then around the perimeter of the Island. Kris asked, “Do you know why it’s called a causeway?” Truly interested, I said, “No, why?” The answer: “Because.” I make a pretty good straight man for him.

We did, in fact, see some “shetek” on the lake.

We were lead to believe that we might see a great crested fly catcher on the island, but if any birds were there, they were hiding pretty well. I don’t know what one looks like, so I’ll see if I can hunt up a photo of one so you can see what we were missing.

What with one thing and another, we finished that hike around 1:15 p.m. and were ready to roll on to the last hike of the day.

Knee Score: 1 out of 10. Happy news for knees everywhere.

Our last stop on this hiking tour was Split Rock Creek State Park, about another hour’s drive. It would be our longest hike of the day, but at 2.6 miles, still very doable. The park itself is the result of a community petition in 1937 to protect a hillside filled with native prairie flowers. In 1938, the Works Progress Administration (WPA) built a dam that created Split Rock Lake, thus prompting Kris to propose a motto for the park: “Best park by a dam site!” While they were at it, the WPA also built a stone bridge from local quartzite that spans Split Rock Creek. Busy little beavers, weren’t they?

We got going around 2:40 p.m. Almost right away I got into a text discussion that preoccupied me quite a bit and got me stewing over something, so I probably missed a lot. By the time you’re on your third park in the same part of the state, all the trees, water and plants start to look the same, anyway. I could stick photos in here from either of the other two hikes and you wouldn’t be the wiser. But I won’t. I really should have taken photos of the infamous Prairie Hill. But I didn’t. Failure all around.

The trail didn’t go over the WPA stone bridge, but I did get a photo of it, so at least there’s that.

The hiking trail directions weren’t as clear here and there were a couple times when we had to stop, look at the map and make sure we were still going the right direction. Up on top of Prairie Hill, we found the Well House, which was unlocked, a clear invitation to enter.

On our way down the other side of the hill, I saw this beautiful bird perched on a bird house. Amazingly, it stayed there the entire time I was fumbling with my camera and trying to move back far enough to get a shot of it. I had my long distance lens on and the bird was really close to us, so ironically, I had to keep moving back to get a good shot. I believe it’s a tree swallow, but stand ready to be corrected.

Eventually we got to the dam and walked over it. I leaned over to get a photo of the water on one side and obsessed the whole time with worries about dropping my phone. Sometimes it’s hard to be me.

We finished the hike at 3:45 and called it a day. Three more state parks in the books, and a total of 5.6 miles of hiking, bringing us up to a total of 92.2 miles since we started our Hiking Club adventure back in July of 2018.

Knee Score: 3 out of 10. Not bad.

Onward!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning unless a wizard turns me into a fly and a great crested flycatcher eats me. It could happen.

Next Hike: Buffalo River State Park

It’s Watercolor Wednesday, the day that I’m usually grasping at straws to make sure I have something to post. However, I brought my paints with me on vacation and although I’ve often done that and never touched them, this time I got them out a few times. In addition, I had finished the Watercolor Travel to Italy (or whatever it’s called) Lesson #12 before we left, so I have all sorts of fun things to share.

Lesson #12 was another one that I enjoyed working on. I liked the pop of color in the oleander shrub and the dreaminess of the misty mountains in the background. Had a little trouble with the rocks.

I usually like my first attempt better, but I really like my second one the best this time, mostly because I spent more time on the details of the oleander shrub.

And here’s a collage of the paintings I did while we were out west. Two of them are original artwork and three of them are copied from ideas on Pinterest or on Instagram. I bet you can tell which two are the originals. 🙂 If not, ask me.

My daughter Ruth took a turn painting in my watercolor book as well and I love how it turned out. It was also copied from an idea on Pinterest.

Vacation Painting definitely had a better outcome than Vacation Eating.

See how easy that was to read? More photos, fewer words – that’s the ticket.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning, but only if I see the idea on Pinterest or Instagram first. I’m not very original.

Do I need to explain to you what Vacation Eating is? Whenever I’ve mentioned the phrase to anybody, they nod with understanding, and usually enthusiasm. For those of you who aren’t getting the concept yet, the idea is that when you are on vacation, diets don’t exist. Poof! They’re gone – and in their place is a delightful freedom to eat whatever you want and face the consequences later. It’s a glorious thing.

We were out of town for 10 days recently and for the first time, I was given a supernatural ability to be able to hear my fat cells talking. Usually you just think of them just sort of oozing around, making themselves comfortable wherever they can find a spot. I’d been doing my best to decrease their number last year, using the Lose-It app, so I can’t help but think they were encouraged by this throwing of eating cautions to the wind. I believe I heard their first faint cheer when I told my husband I wasn’t going to log anything on the Lose-It app while we were out of town.

When we arrived at the AirBnB, our son and daughter-in-law hauled in all the food for the long weekend. Four containers of huge breakfast muffins appeared on the counter, the kind I only dream about eating usually. The fat cells began singing an alluring song, that went something like this: “Muffins, muffins, eat some muffins. Eat one early, eat one late, put one on your breakfast plate. One with milk, one with tea, one for you and one for me.” And so on. Who can resist the music of the fat cell Sirens?

But that was just the beginning. A menu had been made by the aforementioned daughter-in-law, she who has the gift of event planning. And what a menu it was! When it came out for display, the fat cells broke into a heart-felt rendition of the Doxology, so great was their joy.

I occasionally tried to put up a tiny bit of resistance to the abundance of foodiness, but the fat cells knew it was just a sham. Each time I indulged in that second helping of the meal, or the ice cream for dessert (with caramel sauce), general cheers and party noises were heard from the ever-growing crowd of fat cells. When the berry crisp came out of the oven, it was like there had been a winning touchdown on the last play of the game, so loud were their shouts of victory.

By the time we left, the population of fat cells had increased so much that I could hear them all the time; what an obnoxious bunch. It no longer sounded like the appealing music of the sirens, it was more like listening to a group of fat guys belching after a meal. As we rolled out of town, I overheard one of them saying to the others, “Uh oh, guys…I think the party is over.” Vacation Eating had come to an end.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning. Muffins, muffins…

I saw the clementine sitting out on our counter all afternoon and wondered why it was there. My husband came up from his office later and said, “Oh, I think I took that out to eat for lunch and forgot all about it.” I was chuckling over this as I went to the microwave to use it and when I opened it, therein was a partial mug of tea that I’d put in a few hours earlier to heat it up so I could finish it. Oops.

Sound familiar? These kinds of little forgettings are common to man, becoming more common as we age. It’s not like we’re really losing our minds – just having what used to be called “senior moments.” Right?

Some 25 years ago I was talking to one of my parent’s next door neighbors while I was home for a visit. She was the mother of one of my best friends growing up. We chatted easily and then she tried to tell me about something, but got stuck on a detail she couldn’t remember and faltered. There was an uncomfortable pause, and I tried to lighten the moment by saying, “You must be having a senior moment!” She looked a little stricken and explained that she’d recently been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I murmured my regrets for the comment and my sympathies for this difficult diagnosis. She was very kind and gracious about it.

My dad had dementia for the last 20 years of his life. It’s hard not to feel somewhat haunted by the specter of something similar happening to me. I don’t assume that because I forget why I came into a room, or because I forget putting a cup of tea in the microwave that these are signs of encroaching dementia. But I have days when I feel like I can’t focus on things as well, days when I experience some “brain fog” and it feels like dementia is lurking just around the corner.

Oh, how marvelous it is at those times to rest in the sovereignty of God! I love the words of the psalmist who says:

“Trust in Him at all times, you people. Pour out your hearts before Him; God is a refuge for us.” Psalm 62:8

And this verse from Isaiah the prophet is a comfort as well:

“Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. For the Lord God is my strength and song, and He has become my salvation.”
Isaiah 12:2

Yes, He is my strength and my song, the One who will never forsake me.

I suppose this seems like a somewhat somber way to return to my blog after a two-week absence! We were out visiting family, attending the graduation ceremony of our youngest son and our son-in-law, as well as taking some vacation time with most of our kids. All is well.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning…unless I forget. 😉

It’s been a while since I’ve followed through on The Martin Chronicles, part of which is Beulah’s Journal. Here’s the latest:

From the journal of Beulah Bartimaeus.

I’m so tired today. Last night, the people in the apartment above me got into a big argument that was so loud, it woke me up in the middle of the night. I couldn’t really tell what they were saying, but I could hear the anger. It was really disturbing and stressful for me. I wondered if I’d be called as a witness if it turned into a crime scene. One of them eventually left, slamming the door dramatically on their way out. It took me a long time to get back to sleep. Too bad I had to get up at 6:00 to go to work.

It was a weird day at work, too. My job is mostly paperwork and emails, but sometimes I have to do training presentations, usually a review of the confidentiality protocols. I do one of those about every 4 months. We have an unusually high amount of turnover in the research department and they’re all sort of in and out of our location, so this way we ensure that everyone gets a chance to get a refresher on the “Company Doctrines.” There are some fairly serious legal consequences if someone goes out of bounds, so we try to make sure people take it seriously. Anyway, today, I heard from BOII – first time since they first contacted me. My instructions were to host a training seminar next week – not on confidentiality, but on time management. That was treading new ground for me – I’ve been here about a year and haven’t had to do one of those. They included a flyer to put on the bulletin board with clip art of three squirrels holding notepads and pencils. This seemed on the quirky/cutesy side for a shadow group like I imagine the BOII to be. Now I’ve got to do some research on time management. I’ll start tomorrow – too tired today.

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The training seminar on time management was today. These things aren’t compulsory, but I usually bring in muffins or doughnuts to entice people to attend. Only one guy came to this one, though – Martin Anderson from accounting. He’s fairly new – I think he started a couple months ago. I haven’t seen much of him since he started, but I remember him from the interview – he had a little bit of a smirk on his face as if he were enjoying some private joke. He was well qualified, though, so we hired him, smirk and all.

It was kind of awkward having only one person show up for a training session -it’s never happened before. I wasn’t super confident on the materials I was presenting either. It was like a private tutoring session and I was extremely uncomfortable – kept blushing and stammering as I moved through my Power Point presentation. He’s not a handsome hunk or anything, but he looks to be about my age and was very attentive, so that added a degree of social weirdness, like it felt more intimate than it really was. I was glad it was a short-ish presentation. But when I got to the end and asked if he had any questions, all he asked me was, “Why did you choose squirrels as clip art for the poster you used?” And there was that stupid smirk again.

This threw me off completely; I was prepared to have to bluff my way through a tedious question or two about time management. But the squirrels? Really? I think he must have been bored at work and was just using this training session as a time filler, which irritated me. Inwardly, I started referring to him as “Mr. Smirk.” I answered, “The group that requested I put on this training session sent me the flyer – I didn’t have anything to do with making it.” I often read about people saying things “coldly,” so I tried to infuse as much coldness into my answer as I could. It’s not as easy as it sounds. I’m pretty sure I just sounded robotic.

“Hmm,” he said. That’s all, just “Hmm.” There was a moment of silence and he seemed to be thinking about a follow-up question (which filled me with dread), but upon reflection must have decided it wasn’t worth it. He thanked me politely and left. “Goodbye, Mr. Smirk!” I said after the door was closed. And then chastened myself for my immaturity. He’s probably a decent fellow – I just don’t like the idea that someone might be enjoying a private joke at my expense.

Me again. What do you think of Beulah? Does she seem too much like me? I’ve discovered it’s kind of difficult to write with a personality other than your own. I’ve tried to make Martin sound different than me, but I’m not sure I’ve succeeded. Something to work on.

Thanks for reading. Have a jolly good weekend!

I’ll probably feel like a squirrel is looking over my shoulder when I delete this is in the morning. Creepy!

You could make the point that a snowy egret is an ordinary bird, commonly seen, a regular denizen of waterways all over. It’s true, but when you see that elegant flash of white on the shore, it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen it before. You still want to pull over, sneak whisper-quiet out of your car with your camera and capture it. And when you do, it’s a perfect moment.

Fly away, little white heron
I’ll see you next time.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning with no egrets.

I’m embarrassed to admit this, but deciding to put these watercolor lessons and experiments on my blog is the only reason they get done. So thank you for providing just the right motivation for me to continue on with the Watercolor Trip to Italy. I just looked over the first lesson which I did late last year and realized that I’ve really learned a lot since then. Mixing colors is more difficult than I thought and it’s starting to feel a little more natural to me. I’ve also come to the conclusion that I don’t have to have exactly the same color as the example, although that’s my goal. So here we are at Lesson 11 out of 18.

I decided to do more outlining with the second attempt and I appreciate how it at least makes the wooden posts in the water more visible. They’re hard to see in Attempt #1. Comparing the artists’ rendering with the original photograph is instructive, isn’t it? Again, they’ve taken a photograph in which the colors are somewhat flat and uninteresting and enlivened it. When I’m done with this course, I’d like to try to do a couple paintings from photographs on my own, so I’ll tuck that information away for now.

Which one do you think turned out better?

Thanks for traveling to Italy with me in the watercolor world.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning, which is something I always say, but perhaps never actually do.

There’s a bridge up ahead
But are you going over
or under?
Will you walk on wood
or flounder in the water?

Both paths look so real.

But only one is true.

Make sure.
Make sure you take the one that leads to the other side.
Follow the right leader.

This is what happens when your schedule goes out of whack and you don’t think about the blog until late in the evening when it’s past your bedtime. I’m out of sync.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning. See you on the bridge.

You might be amused to read one of my early fiction efforts. I think I wrote this piece when I was in high school. Here it is and I’ll give some commentary on it at the end.

THE CYCLOPS OF TYRANNOSAURUS PEAK

I am going to tell you the most blood-curdling story that has ever been written into the annals of time. Back into the mists of prehistoric ages the story will take you on a horrifying journey into that which has previously been unknown to man.

But wait! We must begin in a different time, where this all began. It begins with a stranger on a spring night. His name was David Koestler. He walked slowly down the Main Street in the little town of Charlottesville. His hat was pulled down and the shadow it created made his features indistinct and unrecognizable. H seemed to have no particular destination in mind until he reached the Butler house on the corner. He paused as if not quite sure; then took a decisive step towards the door. We must leave him now to pursue his quest alone.

Another important event must be duly noted in the course of this history. Across the street is a brightly lighted house from which one can hear the sounds of joyous laughter from both children and adults. Inside is the happy family of Mr. Bartholomew, the music teacher in the local high school. His oldest daughter is sitting on the rocking chair. Her face is bright with reflected laughter as her sister makes a fool out of herself by pretending to be their mother. Their oldest brother is rolling on the floor, a far cry from his usual dignified self. their other brother is holding the baby in an extremely precarious position as he joins in the fun. Their mother and father are watching the entire proceedings from the kitchen. She is pretending to be offended while his eyes are twinkling with mirth, the tired lines in his face relaxing for the first time in months.

Into this happy domestic scene we must inject a note of tragedy. A shadow is about to pass over this house. It will not be lifted until each has undergone many heart-breaking trials.

The unsuspecting Bartholomew’s did not know of the lurking evil that might have been just minutes away. But David Koestler did. He was sent to crush, kill or destroy it. But there was one thing he did not know, and that was what it was. He had also been sent there to find that out too. He was prepared for something big enough and strong enough to kill him with one blow, but as he used his binoculars, he saw something on Tyrannosaurus Peak. It was big. It was huge. He put the binoculars down and rubbed his eyes, then put the binoculars on again. It was still there, but most fantastic, was that it looked far more bigger and stronger than he had ever expected. But then it disappeared. His eyes strained to find some traces of it, but he could find none. It had just disappeared and that was that.

He then knocked on the door of the Bartholomew house. The oldest daughter, Leslie, answered the door.
“Hello,” he said, “what’s a pretty thing like you doing in rough country like this?”
Leslie blushed a rosy red. Then she answered him.
“Well, you darling thing, I’m not rightly pretty at all,” she said, as if expecting another compliment. And he seemed to read her mind, for that is what he gave her.
“Why yes you are and you know it” he said. “You’re just modest.” Leslie blushed again, this time a poppy red.
“Well, whoever you are,” she said, “What do you want?” Her manner was surprisingly rough and she seemed to forget that he just gave her a compliment.

“You see,” she tartly said, “I don’t rightly take to young men that just come up to a woman that he hardly knows and acts like they’s married. It just ain’t right. And you ought to know it, too.”
The young man looked at her in surprised and said, “I have to offer you my deepest apologies to you. I guess I just wasn’t thinking right. You see, I’ve just taken the long way up the mountain to find a house to rest at in the town of Charlottesville, and yours was the first one in sight, so I just figured if I say nice things to you maybe you will let me stay here for the night.” This said, he backed off as if he were going to look for another house to stay at.

“Wait!” Leslie cried, “I didn’t mean to scare you off with all my rough talk. I guess you can stay tonight. But I’ll have to ask Ma or Pa first.” With this she disappeared into the house to ask her parents. As soon as she disappeared out of sight, she went to her Pa and said, “Oh, Pa, there’s just the handsomest man you ever saw at our door, and he wants to stay overnight. Isn’t that grand? Will you let him stay Pa? Please?” She then stopped for a breath.

“Well,” said Pa, “Let me have a look at him first. For all you know, he might be a criminal type or something. Let’s just think things over carefully, okay?”
“Oh, Pa!” She said mournfully, “How could you think he was an indecent man or something like that? Iffen only you could see him.”

---

I desperately want to believe that I wrote this in a satirical fashion, but alas, I think it’s the real deal. I don’t know about you, but I laughed my whole way through as I read this. So many things promised and not delivered – although I suppose one may assume that I had planned to write more. The “dialect” is hilarious! This is clearly written by a young girl, since nobody else would write a story in which a mysterious young man comes to the house wanting to stay overnight and “Pa” doesn’t immediately turn him out on his ear.

I hope you were as entertained as I was.

The best part of the whole post is the drawing my son Ian did many years ago, not realizing it would be so appropriate for this story.

Iffen the handsomest stranger comes to the door asking to stay overnight, I’ll have my husband turn him out on his ear before deleting this post.

It’s been seven months since our last hike and our first hike in 2021 was going to be an ambitious one: the 6.2 mile hike at Beaver Creek Valley State Park. I was feeling confident without any reason whatsoever. I haven’t been walking regularly, nor have I been doing the daily water aerobics classes of last year. I was feeling good, though – bring it on!

We arrived at BCVSP around 11:30 a.m; it’s about a 2 hour and 15 minute drive from our house and that doesn’t include some backtracking when roads aren’t well labeled. It was overcast and 50 degrees – perfect for hiking.

We stopped in at the park office to pick up a map and to get our 75-mile patch from last year. I took advantage of the moment to chat the park guy up about the lay of the land, so to speak. What I really wanted to know was how difficult the trails were, especially that part that would include some hiking uphill. He reassured me that the uphill part wasn’t too tough. More on that later.

There weren’t a lot of people at the park, which is just how I like it, as I’ve said before. The hike started at a bridge, the best way to start.

The first part of the trail was on level ground, but I got my hiking poles out anyway. The knees I save may be my own, if I can twist Flannery O’Connor a bit. It was a lovely trail, really – wide and often going right by the creek. You often hear a special kind of silence at these parks, the absence of man-made sounds. Kris mentioned having heard a podcast that featured the story of a man who has made it his life’s work to identify places where you can go and not hear man-made sounds like highways and airplanes. There aren’t very many. We stopped for a moment to see if BCVSP was one of them – it was hard to tell; was that the hum of a highway in the background, or was that the wind?

We saw lots of spring ephemerals, most of them wood anemones. You could say there was a whole sea of them. (See what I did there?)

We also saw some Dutchman’s Breeches, of which I did not get photos, and possibly some hepatica, which is another form of anemone.

There was another couple there about our age with their dog and we bonded with them in the way that you do with other hikers – as long as everybody stays in their own lane. We didn’t want to hike too close to them so when the path split, we went one way and they went another. Eventually, we ran into them again by the creek where the dog was taking a little refreshing plunge. Kris called out “He’s braver than me!” and the guy called back, “He says it’s good – you should try it!” This is the kind of camaraderie you can expect when hiking. It’s downright jovial.

All that hiking by the water got Kris musing about trout fishing and the need to plan a fishing trip soon. We’ve got it all worked out: I’ll come along with some good books to read, and he’ll do the fishing. He also told me an entertaining story he’d heard about some poor woman who was using a pit toilet somewhere and a bear bit her in the butt. You can’t un-hear that kind of thing, sadly.

We left the creek after awhile and ended up hiking a big loop around an area that had burned. Was it a planned burn or an accidental one? We thought perhaps we’d ask the park ranger when we finished the hike, but didn’t, so we still don’t know.

We finished the first part of the Hiking Club trail by about 1:00 p..m. and I figured we’d probably done about 4 miles of the 6 by that time, so the remaining loop, while hilly, shouldn’t be too bad. Spoiler alert: I was wrong.

We stopped at a picnic table at this point and I went to go use the pit toilet, trying unsuccessfully to forget about the specter of bears waiting underneath to bite me in the butt. We had our usual repast of Clif bars and water, and girded ourselves for Part 2.

You will see very few photos from this point on. Gone were the wide and level paths. If Part 1 was Dr. Jekyll, Part 2 was definitely Mr. Hyde. We walked steadily uphill for quite a ways. I tried to focus my mind on the beauty of the landscape, but my challenged legs were always trying to get a word in and interrupting the other conversation. Early on, Kris said, “Naked tree up ahead – don’t look!” which really cracked me up. I had to get a photo of that.

The path would level out briefly (ahh…) and then cruise uphill again, the paths getting narrower and narrower, next to steeper and steeper drop-offs which seemed to be right next to where we were walking. Kris will tell you that I am exaggerating and he’d be right, but don’t listen to him. It felt like my life was in imminent peril – that’s the important part.

At last we got to the top. I sat down for a breather (not the first time, either) while Kris enjoyed the view. It had been rough, but now the going should be all downhill. It was a nice halfway point! Let me say right here and now that those hiking poles were worth their weight in gold on this part of the hike. Gold!

We started our downward hike and could see in the distance down below one of the camping areas – the last part of the trail would take us right past those, so I knew we were getting close. Kris dragged the map out when I was taking one of my many breathers and pointed to where he thought we were, which was barely 1/4 of the way through the hike. I rejected it out of hand. But naturally, he was right as he usually is about these things. The place where I had thought we’d be going down to the camping area, was actually a fork in the road…and our trail led away from that nice downward path and BACK UPHILL.

I’m sorry to have to report that these kinds of challenges usually bring out the worst in me and I revert to the dark, inner pessimist of my soul. It’s not so much a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde transformation as it is Winnie-the-Pooh/Eeyore. I felt a little bit like Adrian Plass in the highly amusing book The Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass, Aged 37 3/4. He’s generally a cheerful fellow, always full of the milk of human kindness, but then he gets a toothache that gets progressively worse and tries to hide it from his wife, Anne, afraid she’ll make him go to the dentist. He prays and feels the Lord is telling him “I will heal you. Don’t go to the dentist.” Finally the pain becomes so bad that his journal entry devolves into this: “Toothache BAD!!! Wife ugly. Son ridiculous. God non-existent. …Why doesn’t God heal my tooth if he’s so wonderful? Pockets awash with empty pain killer packets. I think Anne suspects.”

What I’m trying to say is that I was pretty close to saying “Everything HURTS! Pain BAD!! Landscape ugly! Husband ridiculous!” Meanwhile, Kris was trying to stay cheerful (thank God – we certainly didn’t need two of me on this trail). The sun came out briefly and he burst forth with the John Denver song “Sunshine…on my shoulders…makes me happy.” I had a brief impulse to throw one of my hiking poles at him, but mercifully this evil notion passed and left me ashamed for having thought of it.

And upward we continued to go, with me stopping more frequently to rest. My dear sweet husband said, “C’mon Frodo – not much farther now!” He knows that a well-placed LOTR quote is a balm to my soul. I said, “Sam actually carried Frodo when things got difficult, you know.” We chuckled over this notion. I began thinking about that hike we did at Crosby-Manitou State Park in 2019. That was a tough one and I made it through that – in fact I had the exhilarating experience of getting my second wind after awhile. There was no second wind at BCVSP, however, just the grueling experience of forcing one step after another. But you know what? That kind of experience is just as valuable as the other. “Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.”

So, endure, I did. Uphill eventually became downhill, and it wasn’t long before we could see the campground at the bottom. I told Kris that I wanted to go and rebuke the park ranger for telling me that the second part of the hike wasn’t too bad. Kris said, “He probably looked at you and thought ‘she’s up to it!’” But I think it’s more likely that he looked at me and thought “You can’t handle the truth.”

We got back to the car at 2:48 p.m. For all my whining, I want to put it on record that BCVSP is really a lovely park! You should definitely go there. Bring your hiking poles, though.

Knee Score (1-10, 10 being the most difficult):
Part One: 2
Part Two: 10 (only the second park to receive a 10 rating from me)

It’s nice to know that we started the year off with one of the more difficult hikes and can cross that one off the list. We’ve done a total of 86.6 miles now!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning, but you never know.

Next hikes: Kilen Woods, Lake Shetek and Split Rock Creek