Most weeks of the year, I am reminded of what an unassuming tree the Tamarack (Larix laricina) is. In spring, they are slow to wake. In summer, they are overpowered by woodland flowers, lush grasses, or the rustle of leaves on a light breeze. Forgotten at the peak of fall colors, crowds rush to see brilliant yellow, red, and orange leaves against a bright blue sky. In winter, this deciduous conifer appears dead.
But for a few weeks in the fall, after most other leaves have floated to the ground, and the evergreens are still...well...green--the Tamaracks turn a brilliant gold. This is the time of year I love most.
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| North Arm of Lake Itasca |
My grandfather joined the Civilian Conservation Corps in 1938, and from 1939-40, he was stationed at the Lovelis Lake CCC Camp. The men of company 2703 helped build Itasca State Park; for this reason, it has always been an important place for my family. We spent countless days there with my parents and grandparents growing up, and when I go there now, it feels like home.
Itasca is an anomaly for me because I never care about finding something new. I have hiked almost all of the trails, but don't feel very compelled to pick one I haven't--I like to eat wild rice soup at Douglas Lodge, yet am indifferent to the new visitor centers. I really just have a handful of places I want to walk to and sit at, as there I feel closest to my heritage, and closest to myself.
All my dogs come with me to Itasca in their first year, because we are learning about each other, and I feel called to take them to such an important place (I assume parents feel the same calling with their children.) A place where I let my guard down; a place of personal history and even more personal tradition. Yesterday was Apolo's turn.
We left in the morning and drove past the rural post office that was my address for so long. We went through the town where my mom has taught for 20 years. We went over the bumpy spot on HWY 39 because my mom used to say if you hit the gas enough, you could skip over the bumps--plus, this was Becker County, and everyone knows they don't take care of their roads the way Otter Tail County does (likely a blatant falsehood.) We drove slowly between the places where the Kettle River bends back over itself, the place where I saw my first wolf. We took a left in Menahga and went straight in Park Rapids, because that's the way we always went.
When we arrived, the first thing I did was go inside the visitor center (ignoring all of it, mind you--just marching to the back) to find my grandpa's name in the CCC Honor Roll. Yep, Melvin Sanderson, still there.
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| Notice he is listed twice--I suspect this was a family demand and not really a middle initial discrepancy. |
We took a spin through the campground, where my dad started not only our campsite, but several adjoining ones, on fire one year. He claims it is a "long story" but in truth it's a short one: don't pour gasoline for the cooking stove on a bonfire and then throw the can when it has flames shooting out of it. Especially when you are only a couple sites down from the Campground Hosts. You know--the old couple that gets free camping for changing the toilet paper and putting up with dopes who pour gas on campfires. It goes over poorly.
Then we went to the Headwaters, where I took the coward's route and didn't walk across the rocks, because we all know odds are Apolo would have pulled me in. We did sit on the bench together for awhile, much to the amusement of the other visitors who must not be used to seeing such a tall dog sitting next to such a short girl on a bench, as if he were a person.
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| The Mississippi River begins here! (Note the Larix laricina, too.) |
Then we looped up the Schoolcraft Trail, because that is such a pretty view of Tamaracks. I also found a photo from five years ago where I am holding Mac in the same spot when he was a pup, so that brought back some fun memories. I remember it being very dreary that day, and it was shaping up to be dreary again yesterday...but just as we came up the hill, the sun peeked out.
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| Mom has a better camera now than when Mac was little! But, I am too big to hold. :( |
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| Mac at six months (2007) |
The next destination was a bit harder for me to face. I wasn't sure I wanted to make the trip to Iron Corner Lake. In 2008, the last time I was there, Jay and I stopped to watch two Trumpeter Swans. We fell asleep under the White Pine--it was a beautiful, sunny day...and I will always remember dozing against that tree with Jay's head on my chest.
After a lively parking lot discussion with two strangers about Flat-Coats (there are a lot of those types of discussions in my life,) we started to hike to the lake. One foot in front of the other, crunching leaves the whole way. We spent a lot of time there, and it was impossible for me to not be sad in a place with such a strong memory. We talked about how much has transpired since I was there in 2008--I lost Jay, my grandfather, my great-aunt, and my father-in-law. My mom was diagnosed with Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia in the summer of 2009. Jon changed jobs. We scraped together the money to buy a vacation place in Utah when we weren't sure we could. I am no closer to figuring out if I want to have a child. My sister married and divorced. All of these experiences, which seem so consuming at times, are now woven into the fabric that is my life. Going to this particular tree wasn't about Apolo needing to hear my words, it was about me needing to say them out loud, in the safety of such a private spot. His paws walked beside me, but it was my feet that needed the journey.
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| Side note: The White Pine got screwed when MN picked a state tree. So what if Maine already has it? |
I enjoy this part of the park because I can often find swans in the quiet spots, and I don't have to share them with anyone else. There weren't any on Iron Corner Lake yesterday, and I was disappointed.
Sunset was Preacher's Grove, because it is such a pretty, west-facing spot, and it happened to be completely empty.
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| 300 year-old Red Pines...it is good to be around old trees! |
I am not sure why I decided to drive all the way up and around the park again, or why I got out and walked into the Itasca Wilderness Sanctuary, because I haven't since I was 12. That was the year my mom and I decided we wanted to eventually hike every trail in the park, and this was a short one--easy to check off. Apolo was asleep in the back, so I went by myself. I wouldn't have seen the swans in Bohall Lake had they not flown over me and circled to land, but I did get a few moments to watch them from afar. I know they aren't that unusual anymore (good thing,) but there is still something very magical about being able to enjoy them alone in nature.
Thank you for sharing these travels with me when you didn't have to. And if you go to Itasca yourself, I hope you visit a few of these places to make your own memories.
