Before heading out I stopped at Emma Beans Drive-Thru for a cuppa joe. I think it had a better flavor than the swamp water on offer in the hotel lobby but it was somehow brewed even weaker. Disappointing but it was still something hot to drink and surely had trace amounts of caffeine. I briefly considered ordering a cup of hot water so that I could concoct some kind of homeopathic cup of coffee that was fully caffeinated but quickly discarded the thought.
Thankfully he was not at home when I arrived. A few of the surrounding cabins were gone or mostly gone but a few remained with screens missing and their roofs covered in moss.
The helpful and friendly DNR lady at the interpretive center had told me on Saturday that demolition of the camp buildings on the spooky trail had begun but was not yet finished. Too bad. The abandoned buildings were not only creepy but also memento mori, of a kind, reminders that life is fleeting and that Nature will prevail in the end and return you to the soil.
While it wasn't quite as scary in broad daylight as it was on a grey autumn day, those extremely creepy Annihilation vibes remained and I fully expected some Girl Scout counselor's remains to be hanging on the wall, attached by some eldritch, though colorful, lichen that would make the R&D folks at 3M insanely jealous. Thankfully it was just my imagination running away with me.
Continuing down the trail, I recalled that the last time I had walked it, I was first delighted by a gaggle of turkeys just ahead of me and then quite startled by a pair of deer who emerged from the woods and ran across the trail. Not long after recalling these sightings, I heard the rustle of leaves ahead of me and to my right. The rustling then became loud thuds as two deer tear assed out of the woods and ran across the trail a little way ahead of me. I'd swear that I could feel the ground vibrate just a tad as their hooves pounded the earth as they fled and I felt like I was in the presence of something larger than me, something that could make the ground tremble.
Just like Saturday, it was a lovely, sunny morning. A bit chilly when the breeze hit my cheeks but the remaining meteorologist at the National Weather Service forecasted a rather temperate day to come. This trail connects to the one I had walked yesterday but its trailhead is a short drive down the road from the interpretive center. Pulling into the lot mine was, quite unsurprisingly, the only car there.
Just as had happened the previous day, my mind went from enjoying the lovely surroundings to my divorce/how to shed my anger. Bird calls filled the air and they would drag my mind away from the dissolution of my marriage back to the woods. All around me life was emerging from its winter slumbers and I tried to view this as a lesson for me, something to emulate.
Less than a mile up the trail I once again saw the spooky recreation/meeting building or whatever it was.
In order to shake loose any thoughts of hideously transmogrified Girl Scout troop leaders that clung steadfastly in my overactive imagination, I went down to the shore of Hodge Lake which was just gorgeous.
I hit the trail and went deosil this time which would allow me to walk the section of trail I missed last time right away. Almost immediately I ran into a few cabins as well as the remains of others.
Needless to say, the hike was wonderful, the scenery gorgeous. I loved the melodic songs of the feathered inhabitants of the area, the moss that crept up trees, and the sight of the woods about to bloom into a verdurous wonderland.
When my thoughts strayed from my surroundings, I found that they didn't always coalesce around my divorce. My youngest stepson's predicament weighs heavily on me. We had a discussion recently and it broke my heart that he, at the age of 26, harbors no inclination to become an independent adult. It's like he even refuses to build castles in the sky. Bereft of self-respect and unable to comprehend that he is the master of his own destiny, he expects to never work a day in his life, never assume any responsibility beyond paying a couple bills and ordering groceries. Instead of beginning the process of becoming a man, he seems to desire perpetual childhood and there is nothing for me to do about it.
It is absolutely gut wrenching to hear a very smart, funny, and capable young man who is caring and blessed with a gentle bonhomie say that he's inured, not to a life of quiet desperation, but to one of barely getting by. But he is 26 and I cannot do much if he is not inclined to change his life for the better.
I think I came to a level of acceptance of this situation in the woods that day. In my mind, I am resigned to the fact that he is the way he is and that he is responsible for changing his life, ultimately. I'll still be there to help and encourage but I suspect that, barring a radical change in his outlook, I will just have to become accustomed to this sadness as a permanent part of my life and move forward.
Another thought that I pondered on my walk was that my family is over. When I got married I had hoped that my marriage would be durable - unlike my parents' marriage and that of other family members and those of the parents of several friends. I had hoped that my family would last, that it would one of mutual support forever, that the kids would be of some help when my wife and I attained old age. But the family has been split asunder and most of its members now see me as nothing more than a bank. My value to them is strictly pecuniary and to be found in my bank accounts.
It is depressing to watch your family fall apart (again) and realize that most of your life plans were built on sand. What a fool I was!
********
At one point I found myself back at the trail I had hiked the previous day so I had to backtrack. But not before spending a few minutes watching Mr. and Mrs. Wood Duck enjoying some quality time out on the lake. Wood ducks are not uncommon in Wisconsin but I've not seen one here in Madison in ages. The male has such beautiful plumage and both sexes have lovely, distinctive crests on their heads. No offense, mallards.
Not the best picture, I grant you, but standing there looking down at them making their way out of a little inlet and towards a wider section of the lake was magical in its own way. The scene was calm and quiet as the ducks cruised along hastily in the distance. My imagination conjured up visions of their webbed feet paddling away in a frenzy beneath the surface in sharp contrast to the graceful gliding on top of the water.
It wasn't long before I found the sign I had missed earlier and hopped back onto the trail I had intended to take. At one point the rustle of leaves grabbed my attention and I saw the blur of a critter scamper across the leaf covered ground towards a tree. I turned to look and saw a chipmunk staring back at me in agitation from the hollow of a tree as if saying, "Curse you human! A pox upon your house!"
Eventually I came to the path that led to Dark Lake and took it. As I was walking, I came to a small pond with a log out in the middle. While I couldn't be certain, it sure looked like there was a turtle taking in the sun on it but it could also have been the remaining stub of a branch. I zoomed in as far as I could with my camera camera which has an optical zoom and took a photograph. When I got home and was able to see the photo, it turned out I was right.
With the excitement over, I continued on to the lake which looked majestic. And dark. It had a rather fresh smell to it.
I dipped my hand in and found that it was chilly but not freezing cold. Brisk, you might say.
Recently I've been touching things more on my walks. Initially it was all about the sights and sounds. This was followed by practicing taking in the smells. And now I am trying to be more tactile, to put a hand in the water, to feel leaves and needles between my fingers, and to touch the bark of trees and let their textures become armor in my Dungeons & Dragons addled imagination. I also bend down at least once to touch the earth and feel its warmth or its chill, to send greetings to the creatures who dwell beneath our feet.
I headed back and for some odd reason I saw the cover of Chet Atkins' Travelin' in my mind's eye. On it he is walking across a bridge with a guitar slung over his shoulder. Why should that come to mind? My father had it on vinyl when I was a boy and I used to listen to it occasionally. What an odd flashback. Or, at least, oddly timed. Ere long I was back at the main trail which would take me past the serial killer's house.
Presumably there will be no structures remaining the next time I am on the trail which is a shame as they add a wonderfully mysterious vibe to the scene. Being abandoned they suggest death and decay and just add a patina of weirdness to my hikes.
Just before the parking lot was a pond from which emanated a splash as I was walking by. I stood still and the turtle made a return appearance. A fine send off from the denizens of Hodge Lake.
********
On my way back to Bloomer I stopped in Cornell for a brew at Moonridge Brewing Co. I arrived just after they opened and had my pick of seats at the bar. One nice thing about Moonridge is that you can get 8oz pours and I got one of their Moonlight Pale Ale.
It was quite delicious. Light and bubbly and not IPA (a.k.a. - Hawaiian Punch) flavored. This one just really hit the spot after a nice hike.
As I relaxed, more and more people came in, including families, most of them ordering pizza in addition to liquid refreshment. One couple ordered 3 pies. It was nice to see them doing some fairly brisk business early on a Sunday afternoon. Perhaps the communion wafers and wine just didn't satisfy.
Back at the hotel I showered and again ate the Mexican joint in town. And again I left my phone in my room so no photos of the fine chow nor of the backs of the booths adorned in cacti and sombreros. I felt badly for the waiter as a group of kids in their early 20s came in shortly after I did and the "men" proceeded to be loud and obnoxious. One of them let loose a series of stentorian belches which I am sure the women found adorable. For their part, the ladies kept rather quiet as their male companions whooped it up and played bits of songs aloud on their phones and were, quite frankly, simply annoying.
I was happy to get out of that place.
Upon my return to my room, I settled down to read and before I knew it I had finished that issue of County Highway that I had begun a couple days previously. As I was nearing the end, which is always the music section as it comes just before the final page which is classifieds, it occurred to me that I felt well - mentally. A lot of the anger that I had felt when this trip began had dissipated.
Sadness largely filled the space left when the anger left me though there was some happiness in there as well. I had thought a lot about my divorce during the trip and I concluded after some marriage forensics that, for all intents & purposes, it was over in the autumn of 2022. Everything after that was epilogue. I felt stupid that it took nearly 3 more years for divorce to begin but I was content with my conclusion and simply hoped that the divorce would be final soon.
When I had finished reading County Highway, I almost immediately cracked open Absolution, the fourth book in the Southern Reach series which had begun with Annihilation.
I completely missed its release back in 2024 (shocking!) which was 10 years after the first 3 books in the series were released. The blurb on the back says it's a prequel and the weird, deconstructed alligator on the cover was intriguing in a grotesque kind of way.
While I didn't get too far in that night, I did get far enough to recognize that a wave of madness is descending upon the researchers in Dead Town and that those rabbits just can't be good. They may not portend doom - wait. No, they do portend doom. Like the previous books in the series, the first section just oozes the uncanny and this is one of the great things about the series (and the Annhilation movie too).
This should be a fun and unsettling read.
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