Beauty Abounds at Devil's Lake

Snow has finally come to Wisconsin, putting cars in the ditch and bringing shovels and snow blowers out of their summer hibernation.  The Packers beat the Lions with snow falling at Lambeau; winter was here (at least for a few days).  The wet snow stuck to anything cold enough to hold it.  Trees, shrubs, lawns, cars and houses all came under the white spell.  Snow can bring charm to a city, but does its best work in the country where wind-blown drifts can consume fences and roads, and forests await, eager for the insulating cover of snow. 

I pulled into my temporary abode at Devil’s Lake after the Packer game and, although it was dark, the ghost-like trees drew me in.  Every branch and twig held onto the snow creating a luminance that brightened the forest.  I couldn’t wait to see my surroundings in daylight (I actually set the alarm to wake up early – oh the rough life of a bum).

Morning came and I packed my bag, inserted the fully charged battery into the camera and set off at half-past 7 (this is early for me).  There was only a couple inches of snow, but everything was white, even the sky, as the clouds blended into the trees.  I walked cross-country towards the West Bluff Trail, in awe of what I was walking through.  The first vista presented itself and I stared out across the steel gray landscape, the dark waters of the lake contrasting the snow.  Sigurd Olson said the first snowfall “is the drawing of the curtain on so many of the warm-weather activities that consume so much time.  The snow means a return to a world of order, peace, and simplicity.  Those first drifting flakes are a benediction and the day on which they come is different from any other in the year.”

Onward I went, trying to find the best vantage point.  A window with a long view would open and I felt like I was back up in the Boundary Waters, gazing over an unbroken, undisturbed wilderness.  The sound of a solitary plow, sadly, reminded me where I was. 

Off-trail I went in search of Cleopatra’s Needle, a spire of rock rising above the trees trying to hide it.  My coworker was a rock climbing nerd and kept talking about taking me up Cleo’s Needle, but I didn’t know exactly where it was and I wanted to find it (she failed at her quest to take me rock climbing).  The going was slow with the snow hiding the rocks and sticks of the forest floor, but I soon sniffed out the Needle.  I moved around to find different angles for pictures when I discovered the West Bluff Trail and sat scratching my head on how I hadn’t seen it before (I can be an idiot sometimes). 

Rock climbing nerd coworker with her opera glasses

Cleopatra's Needle

Walking around the south shore, the sun decided to peak out, casting a brilliance on the snow-covered oaks, maples and white pines.  I believe this was the definition of resplendent.  I came across a few footprints as people had stopped their cars to get out and get a closer look at the early winter majesty. (Here's the link to the rest of my pictures)

Up the Balanced Rock Trail I went, the sun shining stronger and causing the snow to glisten as it warmed with the sun’s rays.  The sky above was a blue only Mother Nature can create.  She was at her scenic best today.  Atop the East Bluff, a yellow blaze of the Ice Age National Scenic Trail stood out like a beacon, beckoning me along.  I had been on the Ice Age Trail since I joined the West Bluff Trail at the start of my hike, but the sunlight picked out this one blaze to shine exceptionally strong. 

I continued on to the Devil’s Doorway, a name that seemed wholly out of place on a day like today.  It looked more like an Angel’s Archway to Heaven than an entrance to Hell (If this was what Hell looks like, I wouldn’t mind spending eternity here).  Down from the Doorway, the glacial moraine stretched over to the South Bluff, heaving up like a white bosom from the flat valley floor.  Beauty abounded with the first snow. 

Terminal moraine in its winter best

Devil's Doorway

Turning back, I traced the East Bluff Trail towards the north shore while trees closed in along the path.  Snow clung to the branches and leaves, refusing to fall off until a gentle nudge from the breeze helped complete the snowflakes descent to the ground.  I stepped out onto one of the last vista’s heading north; Devil’s Lake was cloaked in a beauty that only early winter can provide.  Civilization felt so far away and then I turned around to see a trail paved with blacktop.  Ugh.