Going 'swishing'

I spent a few days this past week up at my family’s cabin near Akeley. With the warm high temperatures we’ve been experiencing, it was the perfect time to be “at the lake.”

 

Astoundingly, our thermometer in the lake claimed the water was about 83 degrees–although that was in shallower water off the dock. Still, there was no “Oh! That’s cold!” reaction as a person lowered into the water, even in the middle of the lake.

 

I had borrowed three teenagers, ages 13, 14, and 15, for the trip, figuring it would be a shame and a loss if only my brother and I were able to enjoy the escape from the heat. The vast majority of our time was spent in or on the water; one approach to summer heat my family has often used is to go “swishing,” that is, to fish for a while and then jump on in. You know it’s hot out when you get overly warm sitting on a boat.

 

Once at the cabin, though, I learned of a distressing travesty. None of the teenagers had ever been to the headwaters of the Mississippi River. I informed them they were not qualified to call themselves Minnesotans–and could therefore not earn Minnesota drivers’ licenses–until they had been to Itasca State Park.

 

They found my adamance on the subject confusing, but since they all hope to be licensed drivers someday, they consented to a day trip to two nearby state parks.

 

We went first to Lake Bemidji State Park. At nearly 7,000 acres, it’s a big park with a fair list of offerings including access to hiking and bike trails, a swimming beach, and a fairly large campground. Our objective, though, was the “bog walk,” a 1,200 foot boardwalk through a wet area where specialized plants grow.

 

Though my brother and I had heard of the bog walk and been interested, neither of us had visited it before. I guess the picture in my head was that we would drive to a parking area and then walk out onto the raised walkways. Knowing it would be shaded, I figured the day’s heat wouldn’t be much of a problem.

 

Now let me put it this way: Talking about the bog walk that evening, I said that, if I were informed the next day, Saturday, could be an exact repeat of our Friday unless I chose to change something (weather excluded), I would do it again. I said something like, “Yes, it was a long walk (more than half a mile made even longer by the heat and humidity) from the parking lot to the boardwalk, and yes, it was hot and strenuous walking on sandy gravel with a fair number of hills, and yes, I was drenched in sweat when I finally got back to the car–but I would do it again.” The boardwalk goes through a truly interesting area with all sorts of little surprises. There are  many unusual plants, often marked by small placards, as well as occasional spots to sit and just appreciate the environment and what it has to offer.

 

In other words, the boardwalk was worth the unanticipated effort and discomfort we faced in getting to it. Make no mistake, when I do go again, I will choose a cooler day–but the experience was very worthwhile.

 

With that adventure managed, we headed toward Itasca. The drive was quite a bit longer than it might otherwise have been because of road construction. And because we missed a sign somewhere along the way, we ended up on dusty back roads recommended to us by the GPS.

 

By the time we got to the park, the heat of the day was starting to wane. Along with that, the walkways at Itasca are smoother and well shaded; the path from the parking lot to the headwaters is the length I wish it had been at Lake Bemidji.

 

The teens and I headed down. 

 

Since he already holds a Minnesota driver’s license, and has been to the headwaters a fair number of times, my brother satisfied himself with a stop at the visitor center.

 

I believe that, if I had asked my companions as we arrived in the parking lot how long they wanted to stay at Itasca, they would have said something like, “Let’s just go see it, and then we can head back to the cabin for supper.” As they arrived at the stepping stones, though, they seemed to acquire some enthusiasm for the destination. They walked across the stones and across the square beam which spans the river there at the start. It wasn’t long before two of them were neck deep in the water of Lake Itasca, even though swimming had not been a planned part of the stop.

 

We were probably there more than an hour, rather than the “few minutes” they would have originally suggested.  All in all, I would classify the trip as a success–and now the teens are authorized to call themselves Minnesotans.

 

Our warm day away from the cabin was also a reminder of how lucky we were to be at a lake, where we could spend the rest of our stay swimming, fishing, and “swishing” to our hearts’ content.