Trip Journals

April 15, 2022

 

Set sail about 4:45 am on the first leg of the journey to Albuquerque. The rabbits were playing road games in the dark, guided by a full moon. This portion of the trip is almost totally people oriented. Very little signs of nature in airports. She did give us a bit of acknowledgement approaching Denver with a wild Bronco ride to the tarmac.

The variety of humankind that paraded back and forth in search of their flights, was astonishing. Interesting thing with the mask mandates in airports is what stands out in passing people are their eyes, searching, intent and moving fast. I find myself yearning for the quiet of a slow-paced, woods walk, or binoculars held tight as I follow a feathered flight.

The reality of how so many people spend most of their lives in these situations, rushing here and there and absorbed in a cacophony of noise. I wonder about the decision to have background music playing in a crowded café of travelers yammering to be heard.

I’m waiting with the wad of traveling humanity to board my flight to Minneapolis and quickly shed the city hubris. I’ll pause as writing creatively while thousands of shoes pass before my lowered eyes are rather mesmerizing. So many colors and style of shoes. Some with socks, some without. This is Denver in April and the sandals are missing. I find the interesting topics are moving so fast that I can only wonder about their stories. Where did they eat breakfast this morning. Where will dinner be? Who is meeting them, who advised them on shoe choices, and is it vacation fun or business?

I’ve been in most of our United States but the three states this trip will have me trodding through are all new. Minnesota will be seen from a shuttle ride to Eau Claire, Wisconsin. In Eau Claire, the real fascinating part of the journey begins. After three days of walking through Leopold land with his family and absorbing a multitude of memorial moments, I head down along the Mississippi River to spend two days at Prospect Hill and my friend Steve Brower.

Landing in Minneapolis revealed a land of lakes as their nickname plainly states. But I was informed that Wisconsin actually has more lakes. Hard to believe unless many people live on boats.

I spoke to several people as I waited for planes and shuttles and as always happens, Aldo worked his way into the conversations. I have revised the number of people who have at least heard of Aldo, from one in ten to one in twenty. Outside of places where he spent time, he is not the well-known icon of conservation I feel he should be.

I just myself discovered his role with FDR in 1933, in suggesting a course of action for improving wildlife numbers which resulted in the formation of the National Wildlife Refuge system, some 560 refuges and over 96 million acres.

After an hour and a half shuttle ride from Minneapolis, Minnesota to Eau Claire, Wisconsin through a mainly deciduous landscape still holding on to winter, I arrived in this city founded upon the timber industry and straddling the Chippewa and Eau Claire Rivers. It is a revitalized city with a downtown lined with beautiful brick buildings, many dating back to the 1850’s.

They have reclaimed the old railroad bridges as footbridges now and there are a myriad of opportunities to walk or bike along the waterways. In one old area that had become a place to avoid, there now stands the Pablo, a beautiful performance center with many of the surrounding buildings now business below with residential above. It is still quite urban but with easy access to nature along the waterways.

The Lismore was my nest for the night. Another example of remodeling to current times. I was soon on my migration south to the heart of my journeys purpose, Baraboo and The Shack. 

BARABOO 

Saturday April 16, 2022

It is an interesting thing to have spoken with someone several times and emailed but have never met, until now. I felt immediate rapport with Rachel. I have trod many paths in the Southwest that Aldo had trod and enjoyed as well but I’ve not met a member of the Leopold family before. Homemade broccoli soup and ginger snaps, two of my favorites, were soon sitting before me as was an empty bowl soon after.

A few shared stories with Rachel, her husband Scott and their son Luna and then we were off to visit my Mecca – The Shack.

 

As we approached the land around the Shack, Rachel thrilled me with stories of her family and the lands where she had spent so many of her younger years. While we slowly drove along, a very unconcerned Woodchuck wandered into view and decided to explore a pile of leaves and branches near the roads edge. When nature gives such a wanton show of herself, one must indulge her and enjoy.

We decided to visit the Legacy Building first. This was built entirely from lumber milled from the Shack property. It also houses the Aldo Leopold Foundation today. Rachel stayed behind in the car as I made a quick journey through the Center. The main room is a museum of Aldo’s life and as well, his much accomplished children. I had heard that the displays didn’t well reflect his time out in the southwest, 1909 – 1924. After walking through the room, reading much I knew with a few new nuggets of Leopold lore, I disagreed. I thought the whole span of his life was well represented. 

An unappreciated fact about Aldo Leopold is that he was a man of many interests and pursued most of them. His evolution in thinking about the myriad of topics is one of the most powerful aspects about him. So, for a museum to go into great depth on all of the times and topics of his life, would require a museum the size of an aircraft carrier, full scale. 

I picked up the key to the Shack and a folder of photos showing many moments in Life at the Shack. We parked out on the road and followed a grassy road that curved around a copse of trees and there it was, The Shack. It looked just like the pictures. After all the many times of reading stories about the family and their countless trips to work on the land and cabin, it was akin to holy ground. The ground was blackened, probably in fall, as Aldo had restored the practice to rejuvenate the prairie and it continues.

Off to one side was the single seater outhouse that Starker built. In Estella B. Leopold’s book, Stories from the Leopold Shack, she quotes Starker as walking up to the family after finishing the new structure and saying, “The privy is so beautiful, it’s grander than the Parthenon.” The name stuck. 

A bit down the road past the old orchard was the foundation walls from the old farmhouse that had burned down. Rachel led me further down what was really a wide path leading to where the Good Oak had been struck by lightning and gave way to Aldo’s history lesson told from the rings.

We wandered back on the chilly day that it was, absorbing life in a woods on the verge of budding spring. Off to the east side of the land, the Wisconsin River was running high, high enough to cover the beach where they had played so often. We left our footprints in the sandy drifts as we headed back to the Shack.

Rachel has such an intimate relationship with this land and the Shack, having spent so many of her younger years there with her family. She seemed wistful and a bit sad to see many things gone from the shack or changed from her last visit. Actions of antithesis to a place so many revere with the ethical path Leopold taught – RESPECT for the land and for each other.

My companion shared many stories and memories as she walked around the interior, each one taking me deeper into the life that the Leopold family had lived while here. When one is in the presence of the source of so much they have read about only, the elements become real and alive. 

Nature is no different. To read a story or to gaze at a beautiful photograph is a cheap thrill compared to being immersed in the whole story. The smells, textures and voices that caress a space all have historical undertones that become alive to those open to the experience. The shortened shovel for fireplace coals, the bunkbeds with hanging dowels to swing up to the top bunks, the trivets Aldo had specially made for cooking on the fire, are just a simple sample of the gourmet meal of lore our visit provided.

We slowly made our way back to the car and headed into Baraboo and dinner at Rachel’s mothers’ home. Rachel had said she would, and true to her word, prepared one of Aldo’s favorite dishes, New Mexican Enchiladas. A touch of the southwestern days and Estella’s upbringing. They were muy sabrosa, very delicious as we say in New Mexico. 

A very special evening spent in lively conversation with Nina, Carl her husband, Rachel, her husband Scott and their three very athletic young men. It is a rarity to be included so quickly into a family’s fold as I felt I was here. That only heightened my sense of Leopold through the evening.

EASTER SUNDAY

April 17, 2022

Another day of memories to cherish lay before me. I met Rachel and Scott at their home, and we drove out for an early Sunday morning hike around a beautiful glacial lake called Spirit Lake or Tewakacak by the native people. The official park name is Devils Lake but for a lake with such peaceful surroundings, Spirit Lake is better suiting.

We were there early enough to pretty much have the park to ourselves. The trail we took climbs up through dense deciduous forest and then runs along the ridge edge comprised of Baraboo Purple Quartzite columns and cliff faces. The beautiful rock was heavily covered in places by lichens and offered many shady niches which local ferns were abounding.

Far below, in white dotted sweeps upon the lake, were large flocks of seagulls, tiny specks that shifted in the breeze. The woods were coming alive with Black-capped Chickadees, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Red-shafted Flickers, Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers and one of my favorites that was heard but not seen, the Pileated Woodpecker. The forest here is so predominately deciduous which differs greatly from the conifer forests I know so well in the Southwest.

After a most satisfying loop walk above the lake, my guides shared another wonder: a Great Blue Heron rookery of at least twenty nests. The unseen traffic controller was doing an amazing job as the herons were constantly coming in for landings with beakfuls of nesting sticks and twigs and then leaving in search for more. Quite a delightful end to the Spirit Lake morning.

Then after a short refresher break at the motel, we met again and journeyed together, out to the Traditional Easter Shack family picnic. After being introduced to a blur of faces, I realized that a family tree of large proportions was needed for me to have an even chance of remembering who all I met.

The Easter feast laid out on tables, many entertaining conversations and a comforting fire in the outdoor fireplace made for a wonderful gathering. The highlight was hiding the chocolate easter eggs in the orchard and woodpile near the Shack for the kids to discover. The old farmhouse basement walls held several for a short time as well, as did the little holes in tree trunks and branches veed for a perfect nest to hold a single chocolate egg. All fun it seemed from the laughter that filled the space around the Leopold Shack. Rachel mentioned that the family got a kick out of finding still hidden easter eggs throughout the summer and that even the dogs got involved in the discoveries.

For someone who had never until the day before, met a member of the Leopold family, this was a day reaching beyond even my fertile imagination. I didn’t realize that the day held another incredible moment. As we were driving back to Baraboo, we went a short-ways along one road to check on something that Jed Meunier, Rachels’ brother had told us about They were there! I thought maybe four but three for sure were right where Jed said they would be. As we pulled off to one side to park, one of these most rare and unbelievably stunning birds slowly flew in a gradual loop, passing in a most graceful approach to the boggy creek. The sight of the huge widespread wings of white with bold black wingtips and long gangly legs made this birder of six decades extremely excited. I never dreamed I would see Whooping Cranes and there they were. How many cherries can one fit on top of a dream dessert?

A very tuckered traveler said his reluctant goodbyes to these new, fast friends. Rachel sent me away with two new books and a plethora of precious memories. A very special time this was, and I recall thinking a trip could not have had a better beginning no matter how splendid my imagination.