Minnesota State Parks Revisited - January 4th, 2025 Redux - Gooseberry, Split Rock, Tettegouche, Temperance River, Cascade River, -30 Degrees

 

Gooseberry Falls State Park, Split Rock Lighthouse State Park, Tettegouche State Park, Temperance River State Park, Cascade River State Park

Date Hiked: December 13-14th

Trail Hiked: Gitchi Gummi Trail, Day Hill Trail, Shovel Point, Lookout Mountain Loop, Carlton and Tofte Peaks

Distance Hiked: 10.8 miles, 8.2 miles

Elevation Gain: 1437 ft,, 1152 ft. 

Duration: 4h 21m, 3h 31m

If I have a trait that can be considered both a blessing and a curse, at least in a hiking context, it's the drive to immediately outdo something that I considered impressive until the moment it was done. 

Burying bad memories underneath new ones to compensate is probably a close second. 

I've merged all these hikes into one entry. Four on the Saturday, one on the Sunday, I consider them a collective because of what they represented in my head at the time. If you've read my Hiking Club reviews, you know that my January 4th trilogy of hikes when it was -30 outside set the bar for what I considered one of my biggest hiking accomplishments of the year. 

Unfortunately, those are laced with bad and redacted memories now, and when put in the position where the time and context are right, even something that stupid and dangerous needs to be outdone. I was at my favorite inn up north, the weather was nearly identical to January 4th, and instead of having to drive up there, I woke up right in the middle of all them already. -30 wind chills, overwhelming bright sun, sea smoke, Minnesota State Parks, but also, about 450 hikes in between created a capstone for a year that began with checking boxes and ended with returning to frozen roots/routes. 

Yes, two of these parks I did a few weeks before January 4th, but I didn't want to just outdo time and distance. Why continue highlighting a day with three state parks hiked when I could do four under the same dangerous circumstances? It made sense in my head at the time.

First, my old friend Gitchi Gummi, before I had the amazing thought that maybe ice spikes would be a good idea when walking on cliffs while they're covered in ice. This time, it was a breeze, and at times I could even feel my face for a few seconds. 

Second, Split Rock. With the snow at least ten inches deep, the daylight being limited, and at least two parks to go to complete my arbitrary quest, I opted for the Day Hill loop as opposed to the full Hiking Club route. While pursuing the Hiking Club would've made this a problem, I was doing this strictly because I felt like it, and perhaps also working on my Hiking Club Adventure Labs (4 done, 8 to go). 

Third, Tettegouche. It's still a point. With Shovels.

Fourth, and the official end of my ice spikes, Cascade River. My best-ranked Hiking Club state park, and that still stands after revisiting many of them when it's not Jupiter outside. 

Then on Sunday at Temperance River, I combined this ridiculous quest with my ongoing pursuit of hundred-percenting the Superior Hiking Trail, so I'll delve in more deeply on that entry. In January, all the hikes combined didn't match the distance or elevation gain from this one alone.

The view from Carlton Peak alone made it all worth it. 

Epic Hikes of Washington State - Mt. Sinai

 

Mt. Sinai

Date Hiked: July 26th, 2025

Trail Hiked: Mt. Si Trail

Distance Hiked: 8.13 miles

Elevation Gain: 3182 ft. 

Duration: 4h 9m

Saturday morning started with an awkward encounter that would be over by the time I descended the mountain. Somehow that was the strangest part of the hike to the Peak of the Twin variety.

Ascending through the fog on a brisk morning, it barely felt like a daytime excursion at all. The canopy of giant trees, of which I'm sure Special Agent Dale Cooper would love to know their names, coupled with the thick, Silent Hill-esque haze to create an eerie atmosphere of isolation. Dare I say, it was downright Lynchian. 

I'm a relative newcomer to the works of David Lynch, only discovering them when Redacted took me to Snoqualmie Falls and talked to me about Twin Peaks. Two years and an autistic need for dedicated research later, I was in North Bend when the news came that he'd left this plane of existence to transcend. The Double-R Diner was covered in a candlelight vigil, an image that will stay in my mind far longer than the circumstance. 

Originally intending to hike Mt. Storm King from a suggestion, I opted for Mt. Si instead because at no place in the reviews was there a mention of needing to use a rope or any areas that were not maintained. Heading up this mountainside early in the morning was a blessing, as both those going up and coming back down were the real hikers who knew the codes of the trails. The descent later would be filled with tourists who didn't, but fortunately that one was significantly quicker. 

Thank merciful Tehlu for switchbacks. Not all my Washington mountain hikes would be so fortunate, but this one would also be significantly more populated. Laura Palmer's theme played in my head as the relatively repetitive views of tall trees and misty mountain hops prevailed throughout the landscape. Trekking poles were also a practical blessing, as one slip could've meant a disastrous sledding hill with only the smothering comfort of ancient ferns as a stop-gap. 

One thing I found quite surprising, and perhaps that's due to the relative isolation of the winter Hiking Club speedrun only months before, was the encouragement from those on the descent. Appalachian Trail-esque, dare I say, were those who didn't have to drive two hours to make the climb, and therefore got an even earlier, pre-tourist adventure. They not only were appreciative of the code, but offered sincere support on the 3000 ft.-plus elevation gain. "Keep going, you're almost there!" is something one could take as condescension in many other circumstances, but somehow on this dreary July morning, it provided the extra verbal assistance necessary to continue. 

As the trail leveled out, a view above the clouds presented itself briefly before giant rocks replaced the dirt path I'd traversed to that point. Would I climb a few hundred more feet to sit on top of the world and enjoy a Luna lemonbar to celebrate my first true mountain summit? Just call me Will Ospreay, because baby, I was elevated! 

Superior Hiking Trail Map #2 - All Sections

 

Superior Hiking Trail

Map 2 - All Sections

Dates Hiked: September 10. 2024, May 6th, 2025, May 10th, 2025

Miles Hiked: 6.0, 13.6, 19.2

Elevation Gain: 512 ft., 646 ft., 932 ft.

Rather than write about each section like I did within map 1, I think I need to encompass all of Map 2 with one essay, lest I end up writing "I hate Map 2 so freaking much" with a bunch of copy-pastes to match my usual word count. The Superior Hiking Trail doesn't deserve that, and especially thru-hikers will probably get a lot more out of it than I did. I just didn't get nearly as much out of Map 2 as I did Maps 1 or 3. 

The first time I ever got on the Superior Hiking Trail, starting at Reeves Road toward Lake 301, I made the mistake of... partaking in a particular leaf that makes a funny smell and causes mild differences in behavior. I was not ready for the consequences of that mistake. Deep within the isolation of the trail, which wasn't what I was expecting having grown up next to the Appalachian Trail, I found myself paranoid at the thickness of the trees and the potential disaster of encountering a bear. Thankfully the latter wouldn't happen until the following Halloween, but in my altered state, a ruffed grouse waited until I was mere feet away to suddenly panic and flutter out, and I'm pretty sure I'm still returning back to Earth Daffy Duck-style from that scare. How does one continue writing about individual sections when they got punked out by a goddamn tree chicken?

My next attempt came when I was a little more accustomed to the SHT's quirks of solitude and structure. But, after 14 sections of peaks, valleys, ascents, bluffs, and epic views of Lake Superior, early spring brownness, trail maintenance, construction crews, and swampfoot couldn't quite match up. Neither could the giant ticks I plucked off my pants after said adventures. 

Going from Ely's Peak to a snowmobile trail with no snow or mobile was a bit of a letdown by comparison. Most of these sections just looked redundant and uninteresting, and especially with the Fifth Falls and Split Rock off in the alluring distance of Map 3, it was really hard to get excited about them at all. I'm struggling to fill my 500-word quota encapsulating the entire thing, so imagine what a section breakdown would've looked like! Again, I'm not trying to discourage anyone from hiking this trail, sections or thru-hike, but I really, really hated my specific hikes at the time I did them. At least I got some damn good mileage out of them, even if the elevation gain also left something to be desired when compared to the rugged climbs of Map 1. 

The coolest thing I saw in any of these three hikes? A young woman passing me by, running on the trail, in short shorts. Maybe I was slightly bitter from an untrustworthy plank sinking into the swamp and thus making my hike that day a soggy mess, but I admired someone who could not only trail run, but invite ticks to dinner so brazenly. 

Minnesota State Parks Revisited: Whitewater State Park, Carley State Park

 

Whitewater State Park

Date Hiked: September 20th, 2025

Trail Hiked: Coyote Point via Dakota Trail, Carley State Park Hiking Club Loop

Distance Hiked: 3.8 miles, 1.9 miles

Elevation Gain: 784 ft., 112 ft.

Duration: 1h 57m, 37m

These two are so close together that even without the Hiking Club motivation, still figured that I might as well pay a visit to both. After all, the last time I visited Carley, I couldn't even drive up to the trailhead, so that made for a briefly different experience, even if the hike itself was pretty much the same. Without any bluebells, it's a simple walk in the woods with a tremendous adventure nearby blowing it out of the water, and doing Whitewater first can only lead to being underwhelmed. But, a few extra miles to pad the yearly count? Eh, why not?

I thought tremendously well of the Whitewater Hiking Club trail, and with it being on the more difficult side of the spectrum for that particular measurement, I continued my self-imposed quest to seek the longest trail in every Minnesota State Park. AllTrails did me no favors with this one though.

Starting on the Dakota Trail... well, it was better than having to end on it, I guess? With my white blaze Appalachian Trail shirt though, I did notice a level of deference from other hikers that admittedly gave me a small ego boost. The initial incline reminded me of the non-flat section of nearby Beaver Valley Creek with its steep ascent along a woodsy bluff, but once the trail crosses the road, it became unbearable in a sensory manner. Spiderwebs everywhere, mud from the extreme shade of the canopy, overgrown thorns, and the slippery sense of doom from the possibility of sliding down the bluff like Gollum making the world's worst sneak attack all contributed to a less pleasant middle of this hike. The loop around a scenic view was half pleasant, half grass taller than I am, making one's skin believe it had ticks crawling all over regardless of the accuracy of that paranoia. 

After having an eye-level conversation with some cattails and dodging a few trail tourists, the quality of the trail increases immensely as it weaves through the Hiking Club sections, a nostalgic throwback to the Nerstrand-Big Woods adventure of this variety. With the temperature being considerably higher than my Hiking Club speedrun, it wasn't surprising to find quite a few more people along the way, and reversing the course of the aforementioned Hiking Club jaunt led to a different experience of crossing the river on stones, thankfully with no ice to fear. 

Traversing down the bluffs brings one to a new ascent on the other side of the visitor's center with some equally delightful rock climbs, granting one great views of the hills and bluffs most recently completed. With this being the day after Frontenac though, the steep elevation gains of the bluffs two days in a row were making my knees rebel against my pursuit. While the trail I was taking was supposed to be an out-and-back, the call of Gatorade from the store was stronger than my will to gain another verified complete badge. 

Still, unquestionably, a top tier state park. 

Epic Hikes of Washington State - Cushman Trail to Tacoma Narrows Bridge

 

Cushman Trail to Tacoma Narrows Bridge

Date Hiked: July 27th, 2025

Trail Hiked: Cushman Trail, Tacoma Narrows Bridge, Borgen Loop, Grandview Forest Park

Distance Hiked: 25.3 miles

Elevation Gain: 1877 ft. 

Duration: 7h 13m

The day before this, I hiked Mt. Si to the top, which is another story for another edition of this series, but mentioning it now is to put this in context: The day prior I set my AllTrails record for elevation gain in a hike and highest point reached. For some reason, I decided that the day after doing that would be a great time to go for my longest distance and time duration spent hiking. 

Is it obvious I wasn't in my right mind this summer? 

I didn't set out on the hike to break any records. Mostly, I wanted to distract myself from the gaping void in my stomach, as well as the bizarre set of circumstances from the previous few days. Everything about my life seemed to be crashing in on itself, so why not jingle some keys toward my physical well-being and hike until my limbs rebelled against my entire system? It was easier than thinking about the mental pain for a while, if nothing else. 

I was the loneliest I've ever been, wandering as if I'd never again find the correct path to be following. The Cushman trail was a relatively boring, paved trail likely meant more for biking than hiking, but I didn't care. Along the way were some Geocaching Adventure Labs to knock out, and those small boosts of serotonin helped out a bit. The fact that it has a lot of road crossings and barely seems to fit the definition of a trail was annoying, but the point at which I was supposed to turn back was noticeably close to the Tacoma Narrows Bridge, which had not only an Adventure Lab but was, obviously, a bridge, and one that I learned that very day had a walking path next to the cavalcade of vehicle traffic. I love bridges, I am autistic, what a great combination. 

One more annoying road crossing later, the gentle but noticeable grade of the walking section of the Tacoma Narrows Bridge led me to some amazing views over the waterways, and possibly even my first sighting of an orca in the wild, but the bridge was too high to get a decent confirmation. It also added a solid four miles and a few hundred more feet to the elevation gain of the journey. If my consciousness couldn't be happy, might as well add measurable stats about which only I give a shit, right?

As the return trip on the Cushman Trail was coming to an end, I noticed that I was approaching my distance record, though the remaining time on the Cushman itself wouldn't end it. Taking a small diversion to the Borgen Loop was little more than an excuse for extra distance and time, just as the Grandview Forest Park was an excuse to complete an Adventure Lab, but it added up.

Pacing back and forth on the first hill of the Cushman after all that, I hit for time, then passed 22.4 for distance, and then thought "why not go for a 25er too?" Maybe not the best decision, but it certainly was a decision. 

Minnesota State Parks Revisited: St. Croix State Park

 

St. Croix State Park

Date Hiked: October 3rd, 2025

Trail Hiked: St. Johns Road and Crooked Creek Trail

Distance Hiked: 11.6 miles

Elevation Gain: 361 ft.

Duration: 3:18:09

That's a goddamn bear. 

It's hard to make anything else relevant about this hike. I had a near-miss with a giant black bear named Joshua, and that's probably the most paranoid I've ever been, and considering I once took a stroll on the Superior Hiking Trail after partaking in a seldom-used vice, that's saying something. 

In continuing my quest to hike the longest trail in every Minnesota State Park, this was one where AllTrails likely didn't help things. The Hiking Club trail was there, and several others were mapped out, but this one technically came up as the longest, so that's the one I did. Unfortunately, after a bit on the prairie trail, it let out on a gravel road and stayed there for several miles. The entire time I was heading out to the Crooked Creek Trail, I got a very real glance at how huge and remote this state park is. The fall colors were lovely, but walking along a road dotted with giant piles of droppings (spoiler alert) wasn't exactly what I had in mind when seeking this challenge. 

When the trail finally left the road and onto what I'm guessing is a snowmobile trail, it didn't get much better but at least it was an actual trail, albeit overgrown and relatively unremarkable. Right as I was about to hit the final loop though, I had an overwhelming instinct to bail and get the hell out of there. Whether this is connected to what transpired later or not, who knows, but I can't tell the story of this hike without that. The only place I'd seen people, other than one car passing by, was at the campground. It felt desolate as hell.

Several miles down the gravel road on the return trip, I saw the top of what I thought was a horse at first gently gliding across the road a few hundred feet in front of me. I thought it was a horse because of the massive size, but a few more steps revealed the biggest black bear I'd ever seen. I had nothing with which to defend myself, not even my trekking poles, as with the predicted elevation gain, I didn't think I'd be needing them. I started to walk backwards the other way, but the map showed there was no other way to get back to the visitor's center, so after giving it a few minutes, I proceeded.

Every bird, every rustle, every squirrel made me more terrified, and it must've shown. I say that because a few minutes later, a pickup truck with park rangers in it drove by me on the road. Cursing myself for not stopping them and asking for help, I glided across the gravel hoping Smokey wouldn't be giving me a lecture on forest fires this day. Fortunately for me, my distress must've been obvious, because the rangers came back and asked if I needed a ride because of Joshua the Bear. 

They saved the day, and I'm grateful.

Superior Hiking Trail #1-14 - Hartley Nature Center to Martin Rd.

 

Superior Hiking Trail

Map 1 - Section 14

Hartley Nature Center to Martin Rd. 

Date Hiked: May 4th, 2025

Other Sections Hiked That Day: Map 1 - Section 12, Map 1 - Section 13

I didn't know it yet, but this was a sign that I wasn't going to enjoy Map 2 nearly as much as the first. 

After leaving Hartley Nature Center, making the decision to not get back in my car from there and instead venture further, perhaps with some notion of determined completionism that is both a blessing and a curse. Most of what I loved about this trail to this point became less abundant, instead replaced by trail with less maintenance, overgrowth, road crossings with confusing entry points, and high brown grass from trails for snowmobiles. 

Knowing what I do about the history of this trail and when it extended farther south, having this be the link between the original southern terminus and the non-concrete portion of Duluth, it made some sense. Still, in retrospect, I wasn't going to enjoy Map 2. The glorious views and rugged elevation gain were no longer a feature. It's also considerable that I was already a good distance into my hike that day, which followed up on a heavy hiking day on the 3rd, so I was more tired than usual. Still, bushwhacking was not on my list of goals for this hike.

I don't know which road crossing it was, but it wasn't clear where the trail picked back up. I thought perhaps this section was meant to be a bit more rough, or that the overgrowth hadn't been cleared, as it was spring. Turns out, I just wasn't on the actual trail, and therefore was crunching through the woods rather than being on the trail itself. Even with the help of AllTrails, that wasn't clear, and it was further compounded by the signs for private property. By the time I got to Martin Rd., I was not only irritated, but walking along the side of a moderately busy road to get back seemed more appealing than the three miles I'd just traversed. Good decision or not, that's what I decided to do. 

A colleague of mine told me a few days after this hike that Martin Rd. was a spot of some car break-ins reported recently, the other being Ely's Peak, and I can see why. Despite being on a major road, it is out of view, surrounded by trees, and the shared space with a snowmobile trail begins here, but since it was early May, no snow on the ground meant very little traffic. Ely's Peak, I'm guessing, is more for it being a touristy spot in a rather remote area. Then again, this is the same place where transient people existing is enough of an issue for a warning, so I don't know what to make of it. 

It's going to be difficult to write about Map 2, so maybe I'll cover that all in one or two essays rather than the divided sections as I've been avidly penning them so far. This isn't meant to discourage anyone from doing the entire thru-hike, but merely my reflection of comparative sections.