The Corona Diaries Vol 43: Sauntering Through the Woods

(Go the this entry's introduction.)

(late November 2021)

I went to the woods because I wished to move perambulatively.

When you last read about me, I was at the trailhead at the Chippewa Moraine State Recreation Area. The rain, which had plagued me since the previous evening, had now become a mist. I went left at the T intersection for no particular reason and was soon descending a moderately tall hill surrounded mainly by barren trees.

Not to get overly transcendental, but it felt wonderful to be in the woods again. It amazes me how quickly my mind was able to put aside thoughts of unfinished projects at work, chores at home left undone, and other such distractions and instead focus on the beauty of the forest around me, the changing smells as I meandered deeper into the woods, and the unseen squirrels scampering on either side.

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er moraines and hummocks

The path was lined mainly with oak leaves although there were stretches here and there that had some from a maple strewn about. Sometimes I would see leaves that I couldn't identify. I soon discovered that much of the trail wound its way between the many kettle lakes in the area, that is, lakes formed as glaciers retreated. There were land bridges as well as man-made ones.

Although I could have done with more sunlight, it was simply gorgeous out there. The stillness, the quiet – just fantastic.

The Germans have a word – Waldeinsamkeit – which refers to experiencing the sublime or something spiritual when you're alone in the woods. If it can be said that I experienced it on this walk, it was when I stepped down from the path into this little swampy area on the shore of one of the lakes.

The stillness, the water, being surrounded by saplings – it was, dare I say, sublime. I stood there for a little while just taking in the natural majesty of my surroundings.

At some point it occurred to me that I was slowly sinking and had better extract myself from the mud before I couldn't do so and some poor DNR ranger had to pull my corpse from the muck.

The trail is 4.5 miles long so I had plenty of time for reflection. While sauntering along, I suddenly recalled Jason's comment about the bear attack and started being a bit more vigilant. I needn't have worried, though, as I saw no bears. No deer either. And barely any birds. The wildlife was smart enough not to go hang out in the rain, unlike the human.

I did see evidence of the local fauna, however. Beaver!

I immediately thought of the song "Release the Beavers" by Kansas.

I wondered how this tree ended up growing like this.

After about 2.5 hours I was back at the top of that hill standing before the interpretive center. I felt really good. A bit wet & chilly, a bit exhausted yet energetic and sated.

Despite feeling good, I went inside where there was heat. As I warmed up and dried off, I chatted with the staff for a bit. A new t-shirt was added to my wardrobe as well. It is an Ice Age Trail shirt with textured footprints on the chest. Some or all of the recreation area's trails are part of the Ice Age trail, 1,000+ miles of scenic trail that run along what was the edge of the last glacier to grace Wisconsin before it went into retreat.

A few last photos of the magnificent view from the hill and I was again heading north.

Not far up the road was Chetek where a hotel room awaited. After checking in, I found myself to be quite hungry so I drove over to Norm's Open Kitchen. After being seated, the locals there, who were all older folks, glanced over at the stranger briefly before returning to their meals and/or interlocutors. I looked around and noticed that the salad bar was closed for the season. (?!) My guess is that it's only available when there are tourists around. I take it that it is not particularly popular with the locals.

I ordered pot roast and mashed potatoes. The photo of my dinner turned out to be wildly out of focus so no gratuitous pictures of food. Aside from needing salt, it was tasty. The potatoes were lumpy, as is my preference, and the gravy tied everything together. A fine, hearty meal which was just what I needed after my hike. Getting into my car, I noticed my legs starting to feel sore and so it was off to the liquor store for some muscle relaxant. This came in the form of Oat Starkbier from our brewing neighbors in Minnesota, Schell.

 

 

Starkbier simply means "strong beer" in German and, if memory serves, the term was used for tax purposes in a taxation system no longer used in Germany. I think it went away shortly after reunification. The oats added a nice smoothness to the beer while the hops gave it a bracing bitterness. And the alcohol took away most of the ache.

 

A few flakes of snow were falling as the sun set and I settled in for the night. Just as I'd put my feet up and began to feel that warm alcohol glow, it then occurred to me that I had forgotten to stop at the Chetek Bakery to see if I could find a loaf of Swedish limpa bread. Limpa is a rye bread with caraway, anise, fennel, and orange and reading about it severely intrigued my tastebuds. Ooops.

 

I did a little journaling (on paper!) before deciding to listen to a concert by jazz great Roland Kirk. 

It was a show from Warsaw on 14 October 1967 and all of Kirk's trademark sounds were on display – playing up to 3 saxophones at once, blowing and talking into his flute, and virtuosic performances on his "nose flute".

 

During "Blues for C&T" Kirk began playing a melody that was familiar but I couldn't place it. I believe he's playing multiple saxophones during that song so there's that drone like a bagpipe and it threw me off. I kept thinking it was a Scottish folk song but, later, I racked my brain and figured out that it was the highly un-Scottish ragtime song "Maple Leaf Rag" by Scott Joplin.

The forecast had possible snow in it. I wouldn't have minded a little but I hoped that we would avoid a blizzard as I settled under the blankets.

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Bonus photo. Someone in the Marquette neighborhood put a kind of macabre Deliverance display for Halloween. Where you goin' city boy?!

(Head over to this entry's supplement.)