It's time for our fall vacation, and my wonderful travel agent/husband booked us into a time share unit in Wisconsin. He kept telling me there were six water parks, and I thought he meant down the street. Nooo, this complex is HUGE, and has six waterparks
on the grounds! It is right between Baraboo and Wisconsin Dells, an area that seems to be Branson du Nord, perfect for families with children and grandchildren. We will still spend most of our time in the out of doors, of course.
The International Crane Foundation is right down the road, so that was our first attraction. ICF is famous in this country for their program to save the Whooping Cranes. They breed them on the grounds, and use an ultralight plane to escort the young on their first migration to a site in Florida. They also have pairs of all 15 Cranes in the world, including the Wattled Crane here, and work with foreign governments to save all of them as well. Read the history of the Foundation on their website. It leaves out the part that the founders were only 22 and 23 years old when they began their mission of saving Cranes in 1973. How many young men end up in "feathered diplomacy" as their life's work?
I took this great movie of the Whooping Cranes in their enclosure, and was just about ready to give up on ever getting uploaded to the Blogger server. It's great when you can get any animal in motion, especially one so rare as the Whooping Crane.
Today we traveled to Devil's Lake State Park near Baraboo. The lake was formed when the last glaciers plugged both ends of an ancient river valley. The glaciers are gone, of course, but the lake remains. Great mounds of talus lie at the lake's edge, cracked off the bluffs by heating and cooling over thousands of years. The Quartzite rock itself is a rainbow of colors, from pink, to maroon, purple and almost black, metamorphosed from ancient sandstone. From a distance the rocks look gray, but that's only because they are absolutely covered with gray-green lichens. Some of the huge boulders still show the wave marks on the ancient seabed from which the sandstone was created. Really cool stuff!
A population of Turkey Vultures sit on the boulders at the west side of the valley, waiting for the morning sun to warm the rocks and themselves. When we walked along the trail, they decided they were warm enough and took to the air. Among the large birds, we saw another with lots of white on it's body, and I later determined that it was a Rough-legged Hawk, although we got no pictures of it.
On the other side of the lake are trails that lead to named rocks, like Balancing Rock and Devil's Doorway, so we decided to try one. It was listed as a .4 mile trail, so that's not too long, I thought. I should have guessed that these rocks would be up the steep cliffs, and the trails to reach them would not be easy. In fact, some conservation corps had taken the smaller boulders and made steps up the talus and cliff face. Steps with a rise of about 24 inches, and NO RAILS AT ALL.
I swallowed my acrophobia for a while, but when we lost the trail a time or two, I realized this was not a place I should be. How in the world will I get down these steep steps??? Ackkk! Dick was very understanding when I chickened out about halfway up the trail. I waited for his return, and he held my hand going back down so I wouldn't fall. At the bottom we walked through some nice flat woods and saw this cute little red squirrel. See, it's OK to stay at the bottom, especially if you are not a squirrel!
When we are on the trail, we usually don't run into many people, especially in the "off season" we've had this week in Wisconsin. If we find another hiker coming towards us, we nod and say hello pleasantly, while continuing to walk. We appreciate it if they bring their large dog to heel while we pass, as most do.
The Bluff Trail at Devil's Lake was a bit different today. We climbed more of those stone steps to reach the 500 foot high bluff trail, but this time the steps were surrounded by trees, and I could handle it. This is the first weekend after Labor Day, and many people where trying to get in another outing at the park while the weather is perfect. But some of them just irritated me no end. One guy wanted to dispute the name of the lake. "The Devil destroys things. I call it God's Lake," he said. We nodded and quickly continued climbing the stairs to the bluffs, having caught our breath a bit. He passed us, and we found him eagerly disputing scripture with his fellow hikers at the next lovely overlook. Without nodding, we went on. It went like this across the entire trail.
Then we saw three young people, college age, and nodded to them. They were followed by another five, then another six, then I lost count. Since all of them carried notebooks and pencils, I asked one, "Are you from a geology class?" Bingo! Score one for Kathy. There were about 100 of them from the University of Wisconsin, on a field trip to see the rocks. They talked, without ceasing, both to each other and to friends on their cell phones. Some had music playing through earphones. "Why would someone come to this beautiful place and spend time talking on the phone?" We shook our heads in dismay. Then the Disputer showed up trying to preach to these students at another overlook. When he started talking about granite, and how it got there, I knew it was time to leave. (The rocks are quartzite, not granite.) The students didn't quite know how to wiggle out.
We come to Nature to relax, to put our lives in perspective. Today it was a struggle, but we managed with the help of our friends. How often do you get to take photos of vultures from above? I threw away lots and lots of blurry vulture pictures along with empty sky pictures. When vultures fly at your eye level, you realize how fast they are soaring without flapping a bit. I'm feeling better already, encouraged by the vultures to take the high path, and not let lower things irritate me. Silence is worth everything. You can rise above things that bother you.
Since our visit here a mere three days ago, it seems that autumn has set in. The False Solomon Seal leaves fade to yellow, against the crimson of their berries. Other leaves turn gold and yellow, while more merely look wilted and ready to fall of without changing color at all. The seasons move as they should, no matter who hikes on the trail, whether anyone appreciates them or not. It's just what they do.
Down on the lake, we saw a few crows in a dead tree, while a Kingfisher darted about, finally landing farther away than we could photograph. We quietly walked towards it, taking shots every few steps. You guessed it, we approached its comfort zone, even though we were still at least 50-60 feet away from its branch overhanging the water, and it flew off. When something gets too close, just fly away, it seemed to say. There are other fish in the lake.
The Tumbled Rock Trail along the lake water has an asphalt path that winds and disappears without notice. How anyone ever got hot asphalt in between these boulders to form this trail is beyond me! It must have all been done by hand, since the trail is too small for machinery to traverse. Perseverance pays. Just keep on keepin' on, even then the trail is hard to find.
The quartzite rocks are covered with lichens where the sun shines, but if you bend over a bit you see marvelous swirls of color, laid down by oceans so long ago I can't even guess how old they are. Sometimes only a tree or another boulder seems to restrain a huge rock from falling to the water. Imagine having to carry that weight and responsibility on your shoulders for thousands of years. You think you've got it tough, cookie? Things could be lots worse.
Our last friend was a turtle sunning himself on a rock. Get tough, he seemed to say. Just let things roll of your shell and turn your back on those folks who would annoy you. The lake and the sun are still here. Just chill out and don't bother making judgments about other people. It doesn't help you, and it certainly won't affect them.
