It was the first hike of the season.
And damn, was it beautiful.
The past few months in Minnesota have been a back-and-forth game of snow and sunshine, and it was killing me. I’d been impatiently waiting for the weather to commit itself to summer so I could finally go hiking. And finally, I did!
It was a breath of fresh air in the literal and metaphorical sense.
This hike brought me and my friend Kaysey to Charles A. Lindbergh State Park – one more stamp in my passport, and one more State Park crossed off my 25 Things list.
The park had some pretty cool features, including the home that Charles Lindbergh grew up in. The Minnesota Historical Society gives tours of the home, but unfortunately, they weren’t open when Kaysey and I visited rather late in the afternoon.
The only building we could get close to was this one, which matched the exterior of the Lindbergh home, and was for tenant farm hands who worked on the Lindberghs’ land.
As the historical tours were unavailable, we wandered around the state park, taking in its other features.
Throughout the park, there were quite a few signs that educated visitors about certain sites significant to Charles Lindbergh’s life. It was really interesting to read, and I think it would have been a lot more powerful if we’d gone on the tour first, and learned more a bit more broadly about Charles. We came across a spot where Charles used to swim with his father, and now, there was a little bridge not far from the spot.
Then we came across another bridge of sorts.
Not going to lie, I did not actually cross the whole thing. The tree seemed to be lacking a bit in stability, and I didn’t feel like taking a jaunt down the river.
For some reason, we were set on climbing all of the stairs around the park. There seemed to be a lot of them.
We saw a set of stairs from across the river, and became determined to find them, and by the time we did, it had turned to the elusive golden hour.
The sun draped golden rays across the park, and it was stunning.
It reminded me of a line from F. Scott Fitzgerald (I mean, what doesn’t, if we’re being honest), but I’ll save you from a moment of slight English-major pretension, and go without quoting him (this time). The gist is that he describes the sunlight as golden paint dripping over a jar, with “freckling” shadows making the light even more intense. Writer goals.
Our visit to Charles Lindbergh State Park flew by (pun entirely intended), but Kaysey and I have made plans to cover more Minnesota State Park ground during the upcoming weekend. Stay tuned!
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