In Pursuit of Wonder

September 1, 2024

My lungs were on fire, every breath an effort. My chest heaved. I have been breathless before but never this bad. A metallic flavor began creeping into my mouth. “Oh man, this is bad – right? Are my lungs exploding? What happens if I can’t take another breath? If I were to need medical assistance would Jesse be able to carry me back down the decrepit steps traversing the four hundred feet of this bluff?” – These thoughts ran through my head as I slowly inched my way up the next step, clinging to the rail, then pausing a moment or two, trying to breathe. Jesse was several steps ahead and above, sometimes out of sight as the stairs wind up the bluff. Frustratingly, it doesn’t take much for me to become breathless, more than likely I have exercise induced asthma. I hate it. Not just for practical reasons of it being painful and scary but also it makes me feel weak and out of shape. (Of course, I could be in better shape, but I am fairly active and make a living doing highly physical labor.) We have hiked this trail before, several years ago, and I remember it being a struggle but not this bad. John Latsch State Park has just one trail, up the bluff. I love hard physical work, a challenging hike, because it feels so good to accomplish it through the exertion of your muscles, and I think with the struggle comes greater appreciation for the accomplishment and the reward at the end. In the case of John Latsch, the reward is the incredible view of the Mississippi River from five hundred feet above. 

The turnoff for the park is almost hidden amongst the trees, the sign barely visible. It is very easy to miss. (And the GPS on your phone is untrustworthy.) We pulled in under the tree canopy. A sign at the bottom of the steps read “trail closed”. An empty truck sat in the parking area. We pondered our next move. Still in the car, Jesse looked up why the trail was closed. Apparently for maintenance of the stairs. We decided to take the risk. If it was really bad, we’d simply turn back. Jesse scrambled up the steps ahead of me. At first, we didn’t think they were in too bad of shape but then we came to some that had loose or missing boards, or the step was at a horrendous angle as well as being loose. Our pace slowed on those steps, although nothing really seemed to slow Jesse down. Many times he disappeared out of sight, which was worrisome when I began to have the metallic flavor in my mouth. Every once in a while he paused for me to catch up but then started climbing again as soon as I did. 

Finally, the stairs ended, we were at the top of the five hundred foot bluff. Jesse sat on a limestone or dolomite rock ledge overlooking the Mississippi River. I sat down beside him, watching eagles soar. We were surprised the river was empty of boats being such a beautiful day. Frustratingly, the roar of vehicles cruising past far below, drifted up to us. I delighted in a couple of big bluestem plants, sumac, and the birch trees at the edge of the trail. We sat mostly in companionable silence. After several minutes, we decided to go on to Whitewater State Park to keep hiking. My legs quaked violently, on the way down the steep stairs, the treacherous steps were even more so on the way down because most of the damage could not be seen from above. We took the Weaver road, highway 74 to Elba, enjoying the beauty of the park lands along the way – tree filled bluffs, goat prairies at the top of some, the Whitewater River, ponds and marshes. We desired to explore the waters with a canoe. As we drove, we decided which trail we would hike at Whitewater.

Don’t forget to purchase a copy of each of my books on Amazon – Dandelions https://a.co/d/96sAFHU, Raking Leaves https://a.co/d/fnbusTI, Making Applesauce https://a.co/d/bVbQ7Hw, and Pruning Apple Trees https://a.co/d/3qUIcoV