In Pursuit of Wonder

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September 1, 2024

Driving along unpaved MN State Highway 74, soaking in the beauty of the Whitewater River Valley – the tree covered bluffs and glimpses of the river and marshes – we discussed which trail to hike at Whitewater State Park. “We could climb up Coyote Point Trail behind the park office, and take it to Dakota Trail,” I said. 

“Yeah.” 

In the tiny town of Elba, Jesse pulled into the gas station and convenience store to purchase a snack before our next hike. We selected cheese curds, produced on a farm near ours, and splurged on a couple of candy bars. We ate our snack while driving along the last few miles to the park. At the office, we purchased a year pass for all Minnesota State Parks. The DNR worker helping us, after a double take, recognized me from years ago when I volunteered at the park, becoming quite animated as he talked to me. It was fun to see him still working and seemingly in good health. 

Back in the car, I put the sticker on the windshield, and we finished our snack. Then I took up my camera and we headed back into the office, emerging on the other side near a small amphitheater, disturbing the squirrels and birds at the feeders as we passed. We ambled down wooden steps to a wind grassy path, canopied by trees. People hiked the trail head and behind us, and we passed people heading the opposite direction too. 

Hiking Whitewater State Park is a homecoming for me; it is my childhood park where I spent many happy times with my family, and then later volunteered for a hundred hours one summer for a college internship, and then fond memories of hiking with Jesse just before and right after we started dating. (I nearly forgot the many fun school field trips to the park in my elementary days – and the less than fun sixth grade camping trip, the other girls were quite mean to me.) Although the park has changed considerably even since my years volunteering after graduating from college and my visits have been extremely infrequent the last few years, it still feels like my home park. 

When we hike together, Jesse generally leads the way, being faster and I tend to get distracted taking photos. He also likes to have a map or check in with maps posted along the trails even when we’ve been on that particular trail many times. I however am content to just follow where the trail will lead. My photo taking at the outset was hampered by the busyness of the trail. We paused briefly before crossing the river, taking it in. A family loitered on the bank, some trout fishing, but mostly enjoying their afternoon together on this beautiful autumn day. Large concrete slabs serve as the river crossing. Once over the river the rocky trail ascends the bluff. I silently applauded a couple making the climb with a baby, who had to be carried – good for them, that is the best way to instill a love and awe for nature in a person. I am thankful my Mom did not balk at the effort of taking me on nature walks as an infant and toddler. 

Mostly, at the beginning of the hike we focused on the trek itself, only briefly taking in the trees and rocks, perhaps because of consideration of the other people on the trail or in hopes of losing them at some point so we could have the trail to ourselves. At the top, the trail winds across the bluff, the woods become more and less dense intermittently, sometimes an understory is nearly absent and others the small plants are crowding in on the trail. I pause to marvel at the stark beauty of a couple of paper birch trees framing the trail. A young flowering basswood tree also captures my attention momentarily. Little white mushrooms cling to a tree nearby. 

The woods open, the trail comes alongside a prairie situated at the very top of the bluff. A bench sits at the edge. Jesse and I sit for a moment to rest and allow the young family to tramp far ahead of us. We marvel at how different the prairie looks since the last time either of us had been on this trail. I relished the grass, which may be big bluestem, that stood above Jesse – imagining what it would have been like for explorers and settlers to stumble upon the tall-grass prairie for the first time; probably both awe-inspiring and terrifying. An older couple passed us going the other way. Moments later, we were on the move again, soon plunging back under the tree canopy, taking in the beauty of a big patch of ostrich ferns. Old, tall maples lined the trail, dwarfing Jesse. I like having Jesse along for a sense of scale. The prairie hugged the trees again, and I paused to enjoy little bluestem grasses among goldenrod. 

Arriving at the junction with Dakota Trail, we paused again as Jesse consulted the map posted alongside the trail, even though we knew which way to take. Left would take us down the bluff to the beginning of the trail, the direction the young family must have taken. And right traverses the bluff ridge, which is what we wanted to do. “This is a good way to hike Dakota Trail, taking Coyote Point Trail and bypassing the wicked stairs at the beginning of Dakota,” I remarked. 

“Yeah, it’s true. Those stairs are steep.” At one point they are basically a ladder and are brutal to climb, I am always quite out of breath afterwards. 

In some places the path was soft, fine, yellow sand. I desired to take my shoes off and sink my toes into it. Some of the stones trodden on this trail are sandstone, as they erode from foot traffic and weathering, they break back down into sand. We marveled at the amount of sand, it being seemingly much more than the last time we hiked here. We paused here and there on outcroppings overlooking the river and its valley, impressed by the height of the bluffs and the depth of the valley. We watched eagles, hawks and vultures soar. We often sneak kisses when we pause to take in the scenery. Neither one of us could imagine being married to someone who did not enjoy hiking and exploring. Also in these moments we ponder running away from the farm – but would we hike more often if we weren’t farming? After all, we’d still have to do some kind of work. If only we could make a living hiking and it were possible to farm half as much. 

Never lingering long, Jesse led the way back onto the trail. I halted momentarily now and then to revel in the beauty and intricacy of dead and dying plants, often falling behind. I also relished the characterful twisted forms of cedars and the texture of their bark. “Babe, Babe, are you still alive? Are you coming, babe?” Jesse would call out whenever the distance between us became too great. 

We trekked across the bluff ridge, over flat sedimentary stones and gnarled, exposed tree roots – a brief respite from climbing uphill. The trail plunged down into a ravine. A tumble of fallen trees and exposed stones litter the slopes and wash. Ambling up the other side, I quickly become breathless, although, thankfully, this climb is not too taxing. I love walking beneath the canopy of trees that line the trail. Once again on the ridge, we tramp across sedimentary stones, probably dolomite. The bluff side falls away on either side of the ridge, adding drama to the scenery. I paused to photograph a woodland sunflower plant, Helianthus divaricatus, enjoying its radiant, yellow petals bathing in sunlight streaming through the tree branches. After traversing the ridge, the stones begin to step down the bluff, becoming less flat stairs and more boulder-like. I find ambling down these stones thrilling, one of my favorite parts of this trail. Exposed tree roots hold the stones, and soil in place. Grass, or is it sedge, grows as a garnish between cracks in the stones and boulders. Small shrubby plants crowd the natural stone path, then as we near the bottom of the bluff, the woodland floor opens up. 

Jesse stops at the signpost standing between crossroads, from here we can go left to the group camp or right to continue Dakota Trail. We chose right, a lesser traveled section of Dakota Trail – we rarely see people along this half of the trail. At the Whitewater River, we again turn right along a dead end trail with a bench sitting near a rock cliff. Sitting on the bench, we revel in the movement and clarity of the river, cherishing a perfect day spent in nature and each other’s company. This spot is so peaceful, adding to the beauty of the river is that other than the bench we sit upon there are no human structures of any sort, not even a power line. We space and daydream, momentarily caught up in the water, sometimes interrupted with brief conversation. 

“Well, shall we keep moving?” Jesse asks. 

“Yeah.” I let him step around me to lead the way to the river crossing – concrete slabs set on the river bottom, like gray piano keys sticking out of and bridging the water. The river is shallow here, the slit bottom coated with stones of various sizes and shapes, some creating mini rapids. The woods grow dense along the river bank, particularly so upriver. I take in the reflection of trees and sky on the water’s surface. Woodland sunflowers, petals in a sorry state with pieces missing, once again draw my attention. Along the river bank, green, non-woody vegetation – some plants taller than me – grow densely, at times pressing in. 

After the river-crossing the path begins to climb upwards but staying near the foot of the bluff, then gradually taking us farther up. A stone cliff towers above, each layer or of pressed sediment visible. We pause momentarily to look at a tight cluster of golden oyster, Pleurotus citrinopileatus, mushrooms colonizing a tree. Too bad we didn’t have a knife and bag, these mushrooms are edible and tasty. A non-native mushroom to the United States, it may be considered an invasive – harvesting it is encouraged. 

The trail climbed higher and higher, an excellent cardiovascular workout and the woodlands, with peaks of the river below, a balm for the soul. Again, there are areas where the forest floor is quite open. We rarely encounter other people on this side of the wide, meandering river valley. The trail takes us along the ridge, sometimes rock formations jutting out from the edge pique our explorative nature, drawing us near for a closer look. We had skirted around the large group camp from above. Voices of people at play drifted upward. 

Another arduous, breathless climb took us to Jesse’s favorite spot of this trail – Eagle Point. A rocky outcropping overlooking the river valley and beyond it the other bluff we’d traversed. At the group camp the river curves a couple of times and flows away from the bluff we now sat upon, hugging the other bluff that cradles the valley. A meadow flows out from the river, filling the valley, though there are still some trees dotting it. We perch precariously on the rocks, a sheer drop directly below. These bluffs sit at an impressive rough four hundred and fifty feet. Oak trees perch atop the rock along with cedar and sumac. We lose ourselves in the scenery and beauty of the day. Whitewater Park had played a role in our falling in love, many years ago, when I was fresh out of college, but that was a different area of the park. Now we sat shifting between companionable silence and conversation. In moments like these, I am struck by how comfortable we are with each other, how entwined our souls are, and continually falling deeper in love. We are incredibly close without being clingy – it is rather a marvelous thing. And we share our two favorite pastimes, reading (mostly non-fiction to gain in knowledge) and hiking. We know quite a few couples who don’t seem to have an interest in common and wonder how those marriages work, though they do. 

We hadn’t drunk our fill of the beauty but looking at the time and perhaps listening to our stomachs, we decided to press onward. As we picked our way across the rocks and down from the turret, we discussed which way to proceed. Dakota Trail continued along the ridge, across the highway, up another bluff and down to the south parking lot. A grueling but enjoyable hike. Jesse reasoned that path would take too long, especially given the sun would begin to set soon. The other option, and our choice this time, took us down the bluff directly, depositing us on the road leading to the group camp. We ambled down wooden steps, taking less time to enjoy the scenery as we still had a ways to go back to our car. We talked of camping at the park, wondering if we could do all the trails in a single day, they all connect somehow, making a loop of the park.  We crossed the gravel road to the wide, mown path of Meadow Trail, the easiest and therefore the least interesting trail of the park in our minds. Although, the prairie plants are quite fascinating and I enjoy standing on the bridge, looking down into the river. This trail deposited us at the state highway that divides the park. On the other side, we ambled downhill once more to a grassy area stippled with trees. The yellow orchid-like blossoms of jewelweed, Impatiens pallida, momentarily halted our progress. We walked along the highway after leaving the beach parking lot, pausing on the bridge for one last look at the flowing river. Returning to the visitor center parking lot, we departed our beloved park.