gripped by cabin fever and an unexpected day at home, i decided to take a drive. i thought about driving to the lake up north but instead, decided to go to my favorite place to hike and maybe scout out some new trail areas for warmer weather and snap some pictures. while i was driving over there, i noticed the snow began to fall thicker and harder, making january shock me back into winter, and out of the far away spring in my mind. it’s usually this part of the winter that i begin pining for the warm breezes of spring, but in reality, it’s this part of the winter that winter becomes it’s cold self. backwards i know, but my seasonal clock seems to have little patience for the long cold months confined inside anymore. which is part of the reason why i found myself in my car on a cold 20 degree day with snow showers coming down, having already dropped a couple of inches.
as i made the short trip over to the park, i began to think of what exactly it was i expected to do. after all, i had a bad foot and there weren’t many roads i could drive on and take pictures. i resigned to the fact that i really didn’t have a plan and at this point didn’t care, i just needed to get out of the house and this time would be useful regardless of what it consisted of. as i arrived at the park, i began to notice how dark and cold this place felt, almost far away and foreign. that feeling of being somewhere distant from where i live was what always kept me coming back to this place. the ability to walk out into solid wilderness only a few miles from my home, combined with the vast wildlife and geography of the place made it feel isolated, and here i felt free.
i often would come here to escape the hustle and bustle of the traffic and people that would burn me out, and also for the adventure of being outdoors and mostly alone. not many people come here, there aren’t any asphalt or gravel trails leading you by human made structures or lakes, it’s pure wilderness with trails made by animals and natural trails created by the glaciers deposits. although there are some mowed trails in the summer, for the most part this place feels as close to the wild as you can find around here.
i stepped out of my car and felt the cold, dry chill of january, along with the increasing snow fall. i had only expected to walk over to a nearby bench and sit down and take it all in from the parking area, but something was leading me further. i looked around and decided to just take a look around, after all i had come this far. i hobbled up the road and looked out to where the trails begin. the feeling of being in the middle of nowhere on a snowy winter day was almost overwhelming, and that possibility was out there in front of me. it was irresistible and the feeling was unrelenting. i had waited months for this opportunity, but the months were busy and the chances few to get here, but now i had unexpectedly stumbled upon one.
i decided to grab a walking stick off a nearby tree, and started walking out into the snow prairie. the ground was covered by several inches of snow. it was hard and diveted by all the animals who left tracks here before me. it made walking on a bad foot tougher than i thought it would. the further i went the more the feeling of being surrounded by pure isolation began to grip my mind, it’s an oddly amazing feeling.
i walked about a quarter of a mile into the woods before i decided to take a break. i found a nearby log and sat down. the snow here was pure and untouched with very few footprints marking the paths. what ground that was exposed was covered by an autumn marsh plant, the name of which i don’t know, but it’s red hue against the white background lit up the surrounding snow. intermingled was tall prairie grass creating a golden and auburn look leftover by fall. i listened hoping to hear an owl, or maybe one of the many wild turkeys who live here, or even a coyote. all i heard was the wind and dry air, the sound of winter.
i considered whether or not to turn back, already coming farther than i probably should, and staying longer than i probably should. a feeling began to come over me that i was being watched. with the mighty kames in the distance i considered walking further, but instead decided to make a circle around the frozen bog and make my way back to the car. out here you’re completely vulnerable to nature, you’re a guest in the home of wild things. i stopped to take it all in before leaving when i heard a strange noise echoing from the woods. it was offsetting to hear the high, off key screech of something that seemed to be pretty close to where i was. i couldn’t see anything moving in the surrounding tree line, so i scurried toward it to get out of the open visibility of my position.
as i hiked up the hillside toward the woods, i heard it again. past experience told me it could be one of the wild turkeys i had hoped to see, but this almost sounded like a coyote. at this point my worries began to take over and the thought of it being a coyote won. it wasn’t fear convicting me yet but walking on a bad foot and only having a flimsy walking stick convinced me it was time to leave. i knew i was probably a half mile away from the car and would have to make my way through the same hard terrain to get there, this was when i really began hoping it was only a bird of some sort and not a coyote. as i made my way back down the long trail that led me in here, i looked back a couple of times as i safely left the bog and surrounding woods.
seeing that nothing was following me, i stopped briefly to listen. i heard nothing unusual, only the dry winter breeze. my pace slowed and i began to enjoy what was left of the surrounding countryside. as i approached my car, i thought about the next time i would come, and hopefully the conditions would be much the same as this day, and that i would hopefully remember to bring a knife.
