Shelter from the rain

Whitewater State Park is a small, beautiful, lush park in southeastern Minnesota. The centerpiece is the Whitewater River cutting through the countryside. It, and its tributaries have carved out beautiful limestone bluffs, and silted out wonderful valley meadows. There aren't many miles of hiking, just about ten or so, but they are worth every step up and every step down.

Somewhere along the beginning of Meadow Trail, hidden from the road behind a screen of trees, scrubs and flowers is a simple wooden shelter. It's a four post design, each post supporting a corner of the roof and bench. My guess is that a hand-full of people could sit comfortably, maybe a few more standing. It is but a small shelter. The wooden shingled roof is green, lush from moss and lichen. We walked by with but a few words on it's aged patina, intent on seeing the bluffs and meadows.

We walked part of the Meadow Trail, some of it paralleling the Middle Fork Whitewater River. We veered off when it intersected with the Dakota Trail. The Dakota's brisk uphill brought us to Eagle Point overlooking the meadow we had just left behind. The stone overlook was precarious, slick from the rain. But it provided us a beautiful panorama.

By this time the gentle drizzle had picked up, it was now a gentle rain. But on we hiked. The trails were quiet, only the sound of our four feet. The forest was green, vibrant. And quiet. No other people talking, no airplanes overhead, no cars within earshot. The forest was muted, just the sound of rain falling through the leaves.

The rain, the moderate temperature created an amazing view of low clouds capping the scenery. At time we could see it flow over the hill tops and between the saddles. It was beautiful. Further along the trail we came upon Signal Point with a view of the gorge just up-steam of the meadow. This overlook was no less precarious, but this time wet, slimy mud was the cautioning factor. Careful footwork provided yet another wondrous view.

The trail dropped us down into the gorge and walked one of the Valley Trail loops. The loop was not heavily used, the vegetation was dense, our feet and legs could not avoid brushing off the water, pollen and leaves. Afterwards we headed back, eventually returning to the meadow.

By now we had been hiking through the rain for hours. We were soaked, but not cold. Trail mix and fruit had kept the tummy grumbles down, but it was well past lunchtime and we were hungry. But we remembered that trail-side shelter, we knew our lunch destination.

Lunch was a simple affair, hummus & tortillas with chopped tomato & basil pesto as a tasty condiment. Dessert was a couple of plums; juicy, sweet, and refreshing. All the while, the rainfall provided white-noise soundtrack. But we were out of the rain. We were replenished. We talked. Life was good.

I took several pictures throughout the park, but none of that shelter. And maybe, just maybe I'm glad I didn't. That lunch, a simple picnic, created a memory of time spent under mossy shingles, sheltered from the rain, talking with a beautiful friend.

I needed the hike, I needed the lush green landscape and limestone bluffs. And I needed to share it with a friend. I did all that and my life is better for it.