Split Rock Lighthouse State Park

     The views of the North Shore are what brings in the people to the state parks off the famous North 61 Highway and I doubt many people regret all these roadside adventures – I wasn’t. Plus, Split Rock has a lighthouse and a lot of stories to tell including sunken ships, mysterious fireplaces, and mine pits.

     Obviously, the main point of interest this state park has is in its name – Split Rock Lighthouse, the beacon of hope and safely after many ships struck the cliff’s high rocky shoreline Lake Superior has continuously worn away with each passing year. Though the building has retired, its fame has not as the historical society up-keeps the photogenic lighthouse and surrounding buildings and landscape with tours and souvenirs. My particular favorite aspect about this portion of my hike is still being able to see the hiding rocks under the surface of the biggest freshwater in the world from the top of the lighthouse. The $10 admission to explore the acres around the lighthouse was worth it, but not my favorite part of the park itself.

     Of course, the most enjoyable aspect were the hiking trails themselves, which sadly had very few individuals on it besides my boyfriend and I; a surprising feature since it was Labor Day weekend. The ruggedly, tree root tripping trails we traveled down led us to not only magnificent scenic overviews but some more history too. For example, one trail led to old mining pits, where cement structures and rusty, scrap metals displayed themselves as we reached the top of a hill overlooking the lake. It’s crazy to still see the parts and visualize the intense labor that went about in this project, which we learned turned out to be a bust. However, the view was not. As the thick tree canopy lessened, the higher we trekked, the “coastal” breeze took over.

     With the shining sun, Lake Superior glistened in all its majesty, allowing us to see miles down the shoreline. The rocky top also provided good seats, inviting us to wait a gazing moment – so we did, taking in all the elements.

     The second scenic overlook was probably my favorite, and a closer hike. Up on the Day Hill Trail, we experienced similar trails as the previous hike, grappling tree roots, hopping from rock to rock, climbing wooden stairs; but, it also contained a brick fireplace and a distant view of the lighthouse. As it turns out, a businessman built the fireplace as the marker of a dream home. The weird part, it was entirely on gigantic rocks! Its honestly too bad the house was not completed, I would have like to know what the final outcome was intended to be. I can’t complain about the overlook either. The views reached up both the left and right shorelines, extending for miles. Lake Superior, with gulls and geese flying overhead, mirrored an ocean. And, the distant lighthouse reminded us just how high we’ve climbed.

     God transfixed us both on this hike, I believe. The crying out to just sit and observe was overwhelming. Often, we would sit in silence near one another, totally mesmerized by God’s creation, and the wonder of how the landscape appeared while the crazy businessman was building his fireplace on a pile of rocks. But then again, maybe he was smarter than us all, trying to build a house upon a rock 😉.

     Overall, I highly recommend hiking along/on Lake Superior. Also, if you go to Split Rock, bring kayaks or canoes. There are opportunities to kayak right over sunken ships since the water is so amazingly clear!

Crow Wing State Park

            Crow Wing State Park is a 3,119-acre historical area filled with glorious scenic river trails, with the park surrounding the merge of the Crow Wing and Mississippi Rivers.

              This combination, travelers can literally see – a line dividing the mud from clarity.

                 

If you look close enough, you can see the line dividing the Muddy Mississippi from the Crow Wing River

          

              The two rivers played a part in creating the historic aspects of the park with one of the main attractions being a village (called Crow Wing, go figure). The rivers provided transportation and life not only to the first residents of the area (Native Americans and European settlers) but also to the wild animals who also called the place home. The cool thing about the village is that some of the original buildings and landmarks are still standing. I witnessed both a house and church among other signs explaining where buildings used to stand. It was peaceful wandering the trails and learning about what each structure meant to its inhabitants.

            The other trails were in the middle of the deciduous and coniferous forest sheltering the park, with my favorite being the Red River Oxcart Trail which was along the riverbank of the Mississippi River, consisting of the merged area of the Crow Wing River too.  The mixture of the extra height of the bank, the river’s breeze (a necessary protection from the vicious mosquitoes), and the towering pines and oaks hugging the area created a peaceful feeling – inviting me to stay, to be still and to just observe. An invitation I accepted many times to watch the water float onward, listening to the wind gust through needles and leaves alike as well as Blue Jays and American Robins singing in the distance.

            One fun critter I got to see for the first time in my life was a baby grouse. At first, I thought it was a duckling or gosling, but upon closer look, the markings were different. Unfortunately, though, no mother was found, which was sad to see, but the moment itself was memorable nevertheless.

            I think the moment where I felt God the most was discussing how the environment looked before logging – or more importantly European settlement with my boyfriend. During this time the pines would’ve had a larger trunk diameter, as well as towered over 100 feet! Now, as the second growth forest continues to grow and mature, it’ll take a while for these guys to reach that height – if they even will. It made me wonder how insignificant I’d feel under the height of those giant pines, or how to even picture the landscape’s appearance before settlement happened in the 1800s. Only God knows…

Flandrau State Park

            A much-needed solo expedition. Although, like most of my recent hikes, the area was flooded in some parts and the others, of course, extremely muddy. However, the concept did not deter this adventure in any way. In fact, it led me to some pretty amazing areas within the park.

            Flandreau State Park consists of prairie and historic sites in addition to the noticeable flooding. The culprit is the Cottonwood River which runs through the heart of the park. This year has produced an exceptionally wet spring throughout the whole Midwest, and New Ulm, Minnesota wasn’t able to escape the effects of a continuous rising river the past few months.

            Although, the wildlife residing here has already adapted for the most part. Right away, as I trekked along a seemingly squishy path alongside the river, each foot producing the “skloop” sound with every step, I noticed many painted turtles sunning themselves on fallen logs near the bank. I stood and watched for a while – observing the struggles each turtle faced as it attempted to climb the moist, floating timber.

Painted turtles sunning themselves

            Tree and herbaceous plants were also beginning to bloom despite the wet season. The green added a layer of new life to the current brown and black flood plain – the environment reminding is observers that spring will still come.

            An interesting aspect of my adventure was discovering invasive-plant-eating goats. 

            Yes, you read that correctly. 

            Flandreau State Park has become one of the first parks to host goats on the premises in order to control areas of Buck-thorn infestation. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the goats throughout my hike (though I did hear them), I walked along the electric fence area that keeps the goats in their specific environment. Honestly, it’s was interesting to see this new form of conservation practice in action, and hopefully, the goats’ eating habits will benefit the State Park’s recreation land soon.

            My favorite part of the hike was not the act of wandering in general, but when I sat on a bench, overlooking a flood plain in complete silence – focusing on what my eyes and ears fixated on, rather than the racing thoughts of my mind. Honestly, the view was a bird watcher’s paradise. Red-winged blackbirds, Blue jays, Chickadees, Cardinals, Sparrows, and many other species sounded alarms of my evident presence, which, like the budding trees, made this dead-looking floodplain come alive. The valley itself was mostly brown, the plants and trees using sunny days like today to begin their green growths once again as well as stand-up fully again for the frequent rains and floods have bent them out of shape. Their appearance took the hit for the vegetation looked as if it was still the dead of winter – without the snow of course.

The floodplain I observed while sitting on a bench. 

            The silence I experienced, I realized only after the hike, was also sub-consciously required, and its duration actually helped me discover a few things about myself. For example, I learned that my introverted-ness was most likely built on my inner likeness of silence, especially in the midst of nature. God had already known I’d be a perfect fit. And, even as I wrote this thought down, a Blue jay declared it.

God announcing His presence once again.

            Another observation I had during the silence draws on the significance of today: Good Friday, and I feel as if God’s whole creation knows it too. Moments would pass and the entire floodplain – silent. As if each bird, plant, and even frog gave a few moments of praise toward the One who saved us all – Jesus Christ. Additionally, I thought the park’s appearance, specifically the draining valley, reflected the first Good Friday nicely. The world dark and gray; dead-looking as Jesus gave His final breath. And soon afterward, as the growing trees and budding plants hint at – Jesus’ resurrection from the grace three days later.

           Overall, this hike reminded me (similar to all my hikes) the inter-connection of God with His creation and how if you find the time to be still - God will make Himself known. And I encourage everyone reading this to also pursue God in this direction, to in addition to creation, sing praises to Him unconditionally. 

This picture doesn't really relate to my post, but I thought the sign was funny considering it's calling tent campers rustic.