I have found my new go-to state park. Other parks with secluded campsites are within an hour of Minneapolis (Lake Maria, Afton and Wild River), but I decided I was perfectly willing to drive 1.5 hours to check this place out, and I was rewarded.
I set out on that fine Saturday morning in mid-March because I knew I would not have another such opportunity. (Sure enough, snow and freezing temps are on the way today.)
Under the odd conditions of this spring the landscape of the park appeared alien. The prairies were soggy and brown and speckled with thin stands of spruce that seemed black by contrast. The landscape looked quick-thawed. It looked uncertain and transitional and lacked the hints of green that might otherwise have lent it a vernal cast. The hike took me through mixed broadleaf and coniferous woods that were utterly silent and devoid of visible wildlife. (The animals were wise not to come out of their burrows just yet.)
But as I learned later, the thawed ground is now ideally receptive to absorbing the coming snowmelt and rain, which might have run off if the frost had persisted. One good soak and this spring will explode.
The only problem was the reservation system. In the un-staffed part of the year (which is most of the year), there is no way to know whether your backpack site is occupied until you get there. I hiked five miles, laden with gear, to find that the site I paid for was occupied.
Nice dudes though. They said they had fished all day but got nothing. Plus I had mentally prepared myself for having to find another place to camp. And with the lengthening days (the sun sets at 7:27!) I had plenty of daylight. I even had time to sit by Bear Creek and contemplate life, the universe and the granola I was eating. I watched huge chunks of ice dislodge themselves in the fast-moving water and in turn knock into other chunks of ice, and float away together.
I did see three immature ruffed grouse on my way out of the park. They froze, stupidly thinking that made them invisible. This behavior is in keeping with their programming (if I may call it that), which has made them a successful species. My own programming makes me find secluded spots in the woods where I might get hypothermia or choke to death on some granola.
pseudoisaac 