Minnesota Hiking Club #1 - Cascade River State Park

 

Minnesota Hiking Club

#1 - Cascade River State Park

Date Hiked: January 4th, 2025

Other Hikes That Day: Tettegouche State Park, Temperance River State Park

Wanderloon Ranking System Score: 4.42

I woke up feeling dangerous. 

Of course my number one-ranked hike was going to be in the January 4th trilogy. I told you all along what that day's hikes meant, beyond the Hiking Club accomplishments themselves, but to me as a person overcoming ridiculously loud demons trying to destroy me from within. 

Is this technically a mountain? By Minnesota standards, I suppose it is. By Washington standards? It's a nice hill, but don't mistake that comparative analysis for being an easy climb. I could easily say that I climbed a nice hill, but instead I'm going to say this:

I climbed a fucking ice mountain in a -20 polar vortex after two strenuous hikes already that day! Fight me! 

614 feet of elevation gain can be hard, but imagine doing it on pure ice. 3.2 miles can be difficult, but imagine doing it when the temperatures are low enough to merit severe weather advisories. The weather could get doppelgänger Cooper'd for all I cared, it didn't stop me. I'm not saying it was a smart decision, but I did it. 

I pulled up in the parking lot at 3pm. Sunset was at 4:30pm, and the estimated time of completion was 1 hour, 30 minutes. No time for rest. And there's no way the temperature didn't drop even lower by the time I finished. I have no problem putting myself over for how difficult this was on even an experienced hiker like myself. I made it to Lookout Mountain as the sun was beginning to set, knowing I'd have an intense descent over rough terrain and a less-maintained trail. I still took a few minutes to vibe and take in the views of the Big Lake and the forest. Even with that, I made it down in time. Barely, but I did. 7 minutes to spare, to be exact.

By this time, my knees were swollen from the three hikes with considerable elevation gain, my skin hated me for the exposure to temperatures comparable to the location of the Edmund Fitzgerald in its current condition, and I had updated precisely no one on my activities so they couldn't talk me out of it.

Instead of filling them in right away, I made the drive to my favorite small town, Grand Marais. Like this park I'm sure, probably filled with tourists and hoards of people when the weather is good, I instead got to take in a Grand Marais sunset with only a few others.   

What I'd just done, at Cascade River and on that day, was dangerous, ill-advised, and unnecessary. But, if you've gathered nothing else from these 67 stories: 

Doing things the hard way, alone, without help, and without telling someone the danger I was in is who I am as a person, for better and worse. 

I am E.A. Moon, the Wanderloon. 

I love you. You know who you are. 

Sorry I didn't tell you until afterward. 

But...

Seriously...

Would you expect anything different from me?

NOTE: This piece was written on April 11th, 2025, concluding this series more than three months before the every-other-day posts will reach this entry So, if you need further proof of the "who I am as a person" claim, note that I wrote about the Hiking Club the same way that I did the club itself: faster than anyone needed to in a way nobody asked me to do, but I worked so far ahead for no other reason than I could and I chose to.

Minnesota Hiking Club #2 - Whitewater State Park

 

Minnesota Hiking Club

#2 - Whitewater State Park

Date Hiked: January 6th, 2025

Other Hikes That Day: Carley State Park

Wanderloon Ranking System Score: 4.33

You only get 2.2 miles credit for this hike? That can't be right. 

Before starting this hike, I was in the unique position of seeing an office not only open, but staffed. The information and dioramas inside are awesome and really give you a feel for the area's landscape and wildlife. The wonderfully friendly ranger working there advised me that the trail shouldn't have much ice. Even the sign entering the trail warns you that the difficulty is considerable. 

Then, something that would've been near impossible a day or two earlier, I had to carefully step over concrete blocks in the river to cross. On ice two days ago, that would've been sick. Then, the trail goes straight incline the whole way up, but the quality of the trail was greatly increased due to the lack of ice. The demons were still rampaging in my mind, despite my "woke up feeling dangerous" trilogy two days before. But, maybe peering out over the heights of the bluffs gave me a little more unexpected boldness, both in hiking and personal interaction. Instead of reading too much into a message I got where I normally would've, I instead chose to believe the words I was given. With a mind prone to running wild and filling in the blanks with the worst of possibilities, this was not only something I was choosing to do in order to avoid consequences or self-initiated spirals, but because therapy was beginning to work and I chose to believe someone I love when they said so. I know this is incredibly vague, but trust me when I say that it was a transformative act for a worrisome person prone to paranoia in the unspoken like myself. 

It doesn't matter what came before, I've felt pain and I wanted more, I'm not settled until I've done it all and right...

Overcoming giant ass bluffs is just like silencing the mean voices in your head that conjure paranoid thought spirals that aren't there; it's extremely hard to do at first, but the more times you train, to take things one step at a time, to breathe, to believe what someone tells you, to trust your footing, to build up the endurance for when things get difficult, the payoff is worth the trials and tribulation of the fight. Trekking up that hill is a bitch, but seeing the rest of the park from atop the rocky bluffs would be impossible without putting in the work to do that without fear, same as it is to trust someone rather than allow the worst trauma of your mind to convince you that someone who loves you actually hates your guts and doesn't give a shit. You can't do it without practice, failure, hard times, wanting to give up, and times of strain on others and yourself, but to use a cliche that I nonetheless mean: 

You got this. 

Seeing a trail labeled "difficult" a year earlier might've made me reconsider. 

I got this. 

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. 

Minnesota Hiking Club #4 - Blue Mounds State Park

 

Minnesota Hiking Club

#4 - Blue Mounds State Park

Date Hiked: February 11th, 2025

Other Hikes That Day: Split Rock Creek State Park

Wanderloon Ranking System Score: 4.33

Tied for the longest (official) Hiking Club trail with several others, I was already distressed and troubled. Kindness saved the day from making it even worse, as you'll have read in my Split Rock Creek essay, but I couldn't have predicted the kind of epiphanic hike would befall me in the least expected of places. 

I mean, I could've hired Karl Weathers for any PR issues, but he did shake Reagan's hand after all the trash he talked under his breath. Keeping your eye out for Hanzee Dent is key to staying alive, for you never know where the Butcher of Luverne is going to pop up. Ed and Peggy were at home being useless, as usual. Lou and Hank were with Betsy and Molly for supper by the time I got there. I did have a knife to stab Dodd right in the shoulder if I got the chance, but alas, stupidity lives. (If you haven't seen the second season of Fargo, just trust that the location of this park is relevant to the story.)

A slow ascent over a massive hill, where there's allegedly bison nearby doing buffalo stuff, and the flat lands below emerge beneath the ridge on which you walk. Snow-covered majesty and land stretching miles beneath the mesa-esque traverse, the Blue Mounds Hiking Club trail gives the feeling of being on top of the world, isolated for miles, and protected from the things that ail you for a little while. Not the cold or the wind, but the aches and pains of the soul that linger long after the worst of it makes its full impact, sometimes you just gotta go stand on some cool ass rocks and let the world be beneath you. 

The mounds of the blue variety stand out, especially in the white landscape of winter's doldrums. Stacked ridges and unexpected prairie panoramas decorate the elevated position, reminiscent of a giant palanquin over the lands that are covered in wildflowers and and pear cacti at times where the temperature isn't cursed by a minus. Still as a snapshot, the wind numbing my hands even as they're covered in gloves, the dread of driving from Luverne to the Twin Cities on a spare looming back in the parking lot, I took the time to instead rejoice in the magnificence and kindness I'd been given on a day that could've just as easily been wrecked and unproductive. 

It isn't an easy Hiking Club trail. It's long like Myre-Big Island but not as flat. There's elevation gain, but nothing nearing the difficulty of similar-length Beaver Creek Valley. There are majestic views, without a tower to climb like Sibley. There's no lighthouse at the end like Split Rock Lighthouse. And yet, on a day where no human would be advised to hike on the prairie, and under circumstances where turning back would be understandable and forgiven, I instead chose to finish my second hike of the day just as darkness fell. 

I'm so glad I did. 

Minnesota Hiking Club #5 - Jay Cooke State Park

 

Minnesota Hiking Club

#5 - Jay Cooke State Park

Date Hiked: March 8th, 2025

Other Hikes That Day: George C. Manitou State Park, St. Croix State Park

Wanderloon Ranking System Score: 4.33

As the notes of "Out of Time" by Kalax played through my halo headphones, I crossed the amazing bridge over jagged rocks and snow-covered ridges to the Jay Cooke State Park Hiking Club trail. My longest hike ever, 22 miles on the nearby Munger Trail, had taken me by this park before, but at a time where I was... to put it generously... detached from reality. 

Do you know, do you know, time is running out for me and you, so what you gonna do?

Cool. Ass. Rocks. The Swinging Bridge was a moment all on its own, highlighting Silver Creek flowing underneath the ice. The weather was incredibly nice, but I got there early enough that the crowds hadn't yet swarmed this obviously popular weekend destination. By the time I finished, that would no longer be the case. 

Just take my hand, may I have this dance tonight? Just take a chance, before we run out of time.

My mind was full, and not just with calculations of how to finish the Hiking Club before my self-imposed arbitrary deadline looming two weeks in the future. An extremely traumatic event had shook me to my core, and I lay with a decision to be made at this point in my life: retreat back into the shell, fold myself up, and fade away. Or. Turn up the volume, live my life out loud, and stop trying to be who everyone else wanted me to be? A box I never wanted, or the person who skips on a trail and sings in the rain?

This one moment, that only comes once in a life. Let's fall in love before we run out of time.

3.5 miles along the Silver Creek, over crunchy ice, in the deep woods, and along rocky ridges, my mind wasn't truly taking in and appreciating the splendor with which I was blessed at a time with no hoards of people swarming around, the person I've always been remained protected in the fog as I tried desperately to know what was the right thing to do. I had love in my life, that was not the problem. But at this point, I wasn't 20 anymore and didn't have all the time in the world to stall, settle, and wait for the chance to do what my heart overwhelmingly wanted. 

Do you know, do you know, just how hard it is to play it cool and numb with you? I love the way moonlight passes on your summer dress and prettier shine from the darkness, only you. Just take my hand... 

Would I ever have the chance again? Would life ever present a better opportunity to break the mold? To embrace the chance, to dance before I ran out of time? It would be so easy to hide, to put the mask back on. Would I make up my mind?

Just take a chance, before we run out of time.

Well, you're reading this story right now, aren't you? 

Minnesota Hiking Club #6 - Beaver Creek Valley State Park

 

Minnesota Hiking Club

#6 - Beaver Creek Valley State Park

Date Hiked: February 7th, 2025

Other Hikes That Day: Forestville/Mystery Cave State Park

Wanderloon Ranking System Score: 4.25

I always accidentally call it Beaver Valley Creek State Park, including in typing out the title of this post. I'm still not totally sure I picked the right one. 

What an adventure this park is, I can't emphasize that enough.

Turning off roads that look like they go places, one descends out of cell phone signal into a valley of the Beaver Creek variety for this majestic splendor of a state park. Like some of the other parks in the southeastern portion of Minnesota, it reminded me of growing up in the Appalachians. And, much like hikes through the famous trail can be deceivingly difficult without massive peaks like Colorado or Washington, this Hiking Club trail will test your skills and endurance at any time of year. 

At first, it doesn't seem that bad. The first three miles are a mostly flat walk in the woods along the creek as the ridges and bluffs surround the trail. "This doesn't seem like it'll have over 700 feet of elevation gain," you might think. "Why is this rated moderate difficulty?" might also cross your mind. If you do it in that order, anyway, as the trail is split into two portions separated by a road. "This trail isn't gonna take over two hours, I'm more than halfway done!" Just wait. 

Crossing the aforementioned road to the second section of the Hiking Club trail, after a little bend toward the bluffs, a narrow path leading almost straight up is the next objective. I didn't even have snow to contend with, but with the ridge being covered in brown, dead leaves, slipping on something wasn't entirely out of the question. With no one else in the park and no cell signal, that could've been disastrous. Tread carefully.

Once higher up in the bluffs, the trail doesn't get easier. It is narrow, barely wide enough for one person. On the left: rocks and the remaining wall of a hill. On the right: forest on extremely steep grade, and the picture can't quite capture the degree. It is not a simple stroll, the difficulty of this section more than earns all the miles on this trail without even considering the other half. 

Making things even dicier, at the time of my hike, there was a bridge that cut off the path for the official Hiking Club trail, thus necessitating going straight down the bluffs, and because I did indeed want the password for this trek, I had to find a place to immediately climb back up. Without detour signs indicating such, I pushed myself back up another ridge. 

Nerd note: I saw this narrow path with extremely steep descent on both sides, and my only thought was "to the bridge of Khazad-dum!" 

I didn't have a balrog chasing me, but the Fellowship theme playing through my head was a nice little push to finish the trail, despite utter exhaustion. Another descent, then a Washingtonian excursion over some mossy rocks, and Beaver Creek Valley earns S-tier status. 

Minnesota Hiking Club #7 - Split Rock Lighthouse State Park

 

Minnesota Hiking Club

#7 - Split Rock Lighthouse State Park

Date Hiked: December 22nd, 2024

Other Hikes That Day: Gooseberry Falls State Park

Wanderloon Ranking System Score: 4.25

Lighthouses are a special interest. I wrote an entire play about being a lighthouse keeper, so this trail was already going to be high in the rankings by default. But this was a magical journey, despite the conditions, that I will never forget. 

Obviously, since I wrote about Gooseberry Falls being the first stop in this series, and that was on the same day, Split Rock Lighthouse State Park was the second stamp and password I acquired. It's easy to say that I spoiled myself with these first two, but I figured starting at an iconic place with which I was already familiar would be a good way to kickstart the respective clubs, and I wasn't even thinking in terms of a speedrun yet. 

Do not let the popularity of this state park fool you into thinking this is an easy hike. It is not.

I'd hiked most of this entire trail before I knew I could get credit for it. But that was a day where I walked on pavement and grass, a day where I could feel my face and saw other people. The only person I saw on this day was finishing as I was getting started, and I asked how the ice was. A practical question, considering I'd just finished realizing how high those cliffs at Gooseberry were, and they said it wasn't too bad. I was still naive enough to think that trekking poles would be enough to keep me upright, and for the most part, they were. 

But this path is long, even without the ice factor. It's among the longest of the Hiking Club, and while it's not exactly Manitou or Cascade River, there are many smaller hills and a staircase to climb (or descend, depending on the direction.) With no spikes, I slipped many times, but on one particularly steep hill, I was unable to stop the fall and landed on my ass. Fortunately, little more than my pride was injured, and knowing how to fall correctly turned out to be a tremendous, unexpected advantage of doing the Hiking Club in the winter. It also motivated me to get ice spikes immediately. 

This Hiking Club trail incorporates part of the Gichee Gumee paved biking path, then disappears into the wilderness near the ghost town of Splitrock where the only remaining evidence of its existence are posts of a dock still sticking out in the water. From there, the trail follows the shore of the Big Lake, weaving through old sights, both preserved and otherwise. But, even as photographed and cliche as it may be, I briefly went off the trail to appreciate the tremendous spectacle of the legendary Split Rock Lighthouse at winter twilight the day after solstice. The colors in that photograph don't do justice to the majesty I saw, and any difficulty returning to my car was worth that moment in time. 

I was a little less lonely for a while, and in that moment I swear...

I felt...

Infinite.