Minnesota State Parks Revisited: Glacial Lakes State Park

Glacial Lakes State Park

Date Hiked: February 3rd, 2026

Trail Hiked: Kettle Lakes Loop

Distance Hiked: 8.2 miles

Elevation Gain: 673 ft.

Duration: 3h 5m

The last time I visited Glacial Lakes State Park was revelatory, and not just because I got an excuse to drop a Kara Thrace reference. In those four seasons during one hike, I experienced a beacon of sunshine from within, where the true self for which I’d been searching finally started breaking through the stratus clouds of the soul. I heard the perfect song, “Fall in Love” by Lazer Club, and I danced along the ancient hills, ripping my shirt off and screaming to the vast horizon that I was finally there.

One year later, I yearned for a similar experience. 

It was only 16 degrees, and yet I didn’t need a coat. The trail was covered by snow and yet I didn’t need my spikes. The park was empty and yet I didn’t feel alone. Having wonderful new friends and a true sense of community despite living history in my city for the second time in six years, the disasters of 2025 were present but not overwhelming me with their aftershocks. It was time to put a capstone on my relationship with this park, as it knew what I needed once. Perhaps the muse lightning in its blissful, non-actual-electricness would strike a second, merciful time. 

Where the Hiking Club trail featured multiple types of terrain, the Kettle Lakes Loop traversed the vastness of the surrounding landscape. Rolling hills despite being in the prairie, ascents and descents with surprising intensity, it felt like the perfection of frozen solitude, the time loop allowing an encore to the prior hike but with a year’s worth of heartbreak and growth alike to fill the in-between. The spaces where routine and response once enlivened predictable yet anticipated mutuality, I now pushed along the vague sense of a trail underneath the drifts purely for my own fulfillment. Sometimes it’s okay to do what you need for no one’s benefit but your own, and I in no way whatsoever claim otherwise for this adventure. This was for me, and I needed something, but I wouldn’t know what until it happened. 

Then, it did.

I let the sax and sky drums of Lazer Club transmit the posthumous beams of a shattered past, with several names now etched into the tombstone of what once was. Then, it was up to the algorithm from the root of that song to find me in this peace. 

Never could I have predicted Bodine Monet’s voice to pierce my snow cocoon of solitude, and yet as I pushed up the steepest hill of the sojourn, there she was.

I wanna drive the highway through the night, I wanna take you somewhere no one finds, I wanna make mistakes that won’t feel right, I wanna chase the hate I’d give my life, for all the love you’d give me, I’m taking it far like a reckless car.

 

Glacial Lakes State Park, once again, was exactly where I needed to be, and that voice scored the soundtrack of my infinity. Thank you, Bodine Monet.

 

 

Minnesota Hiking Club #3 - Glacial Lakes State Park

 

Minnesota Hiking Club

#3 - Glacial Lakes State Park

Date Hiked: February 25th, 2025

Other Hikes That Day: None

Wanderloon Ranking System Score: 4.33

What do you hear, Starbuck (Minnesota)?

Nothin' but the rain, Sir. 

I could've unwisely attempted this hike after I felt the air at Monson Lake drop 20 degrees in a few minutes, but then I wouldn't have had this life-changing moment of solitude. 

I experienced all four seasons in a single 5-mile hike, though a confusing sign led me to add an extra mile along a ridge that was not part of the Hiking Club trail. I could've looked at my AllTrails map, but I was lost in the spectrum of joy that I couldn't yet explain. Starting off climbing an icy hill, it gave way to mud that was much harder through which to trek in ice spikes, and the ice melted enough to be running water by the time I finished off the stem before the loop. The autumn vibes of crunching leaves were still present in later wooded areas, but the summer on my skin commenced at the pinnacle of this Hiking Club trail in ways that are difficult to truly communicate. I have it on video, but as I have chosen to remain anonymous for this series, I won't be sharing that part of it here.

I don't know why. It could've just as easily been any hike, but giant brown rolling hills, the geography of glacial lakes past and present, splendorous views of the rurality below, or maybe I was finally seeing the light in my soul after midnight crested over my heaviest of tears, but it happened nonetheless.

I could've been mad about all the dog shit on the trail, which I guess people just leave when it's cold because that makes it okay. I could've compared the glacial potholes to those of Taylor's Falls and lamented the lack of rocky riverside ridges. I could've even been annoyed by how hard it was to pull my spikes out of incredibly soft, spongy mud.

Instead, I let me out. The real me. The E.A. Moon hidden behind the foggy night. Fluorescent joy and eccentric movements, skipping along the path without a care in the world, ripping my shirt off in the sun and unleashing unfiltered joy from the aerial position atop the crest while only wearing a sports bra. I was fearless as Kara Thrace, shameless and joyous all the same, refusing to take the shitty hand dealt to me and (metaphorically) punching my alleged superior right in the fuck rather than bend to its demands of conforming and toning it down. 

I didn't see a single person along this hike, and perhaps many chose other places to spend this unseasonably warm day. That's fine, the only people I wanted to see were far away. That's why I recorded the unfiltered elation of the real E.A. Moon leaving the foggy clouds behind for them to see. Glacial Lakes State Park was transformative, atop a land geographically transformed by glaciers retreating. 

My spiritual handcuffs of restrictive ice were also forced into retreat. 

No regrets.