April 8, 2009

Time to try something different. I head off at a decent hour for once, determined to do the Snake Trail backwards. I don't think I've ever done it in this direction before. It is still a bit "chilly," although warmer than my last time out, and I do have the orange hat in my bike trunk if needed (along with binoculars, camera, and all the rest of my supporting props). Easy cruising down to the river trail and across the Ford bridge. My knee is a little sore as I take the bike lane heading south along River Parkway East in St. Paul, but in no time I'm screaming down the hill at the north gate of Hidden Falls park, dodging potholes, cracks and open seams as best I can. Biking along the pathway by the river's edge is a dream; it's great to see the water lapping up high along the banks. In some spots it's overtaken the usual borders, inundating trees and vegetation. This is all pleasing to me for reasons that I won't go into now. The one disconcerting element is the white froth that tops the water in swirls for as far as the eye can see. I know that a certain foam is natural, but I suspect the churning action produced just upstream at Lock and Dam #1 has whipped up some detergent, chemical, or and/or other synthetic crap that's been washed or pumped into our river. I ease around a barrier, just into the grass, that warns of a trail closure. yeah, I know, I've seen these signs before, and usually it means there's a little puddle across the trail. And soon enough I come across the first puddle. It's a big one, though – big enough for three pairs of ducks to be swimming in it. Once I get up on it I see why. It's not a puddle, but the river itself; there's now a backwater up across the trail and extending into a small ditch on the other side. The cool thing is that only two of the pairs are mallards – the other are my first Wood Ducks of 2009! Skittish as ever, they fled before I could get my camera out to document them.

I decide to follow my usual policy and bike through the water. This is deeper that usual, though, and my feet and front bracket get soaked. But I make it through. The second place the river is over the trail looks even deeper. It also looks muddy and slick on the concrete bottom, so I'm stuck for a moment in contemplation.



I decide to get off the bike and wade it. Bad decision. The river water is damned cold, and instead of each foot cycling through it, they both get a thorough and complete soaking. It's halfway up my calves. When I get to the third river crossing, I stay on the bike and just power on through in a low gear. YES! I climb up at last to good, dry land and turn around, pausing for a moment to look back.

Soon enough I'm sailing along through the bottomland at Crosby Farm Park. It's plenty warm out and I even unzip a layer or two. What a pleasant spring day. The next step is to climb the hill (Not bad, actually, then down again, through the tunnel, and up onto the I-35E bridge. Here I stop to behold the view of the high river, up out of its banks in spots, creating lush new habitat for mallards and geese.

I also put a few drops of grease onto my chain and sprockets before heading on across the river. I wind down and around and hitch up with the Snake Trail for and unbelievably easy climb. This section is probably the best trail in either city, both in terms of surface quality and pure scenery/ambiance. I look at the still empty holes in the limestone bluffs of the cliff swallows who have not returned yet, and I'm surprised to see some small waterfalls iced over. A sign warns of falling rock, and I hear the limestone crack and see some small chunks fall. It's uncannily peaceful and quiet up here today, with very few souls on the trail. All I can hear is the chirp of Cardinals. Robins, and Chickadees (with the faint hum of interstate traffic in background, of course). Before I know it I'm through he little village of Mendota, across the Highway 55 bridge, through the grouds of old Fort Snelling, and back home. What a satisfying ride. I never did have to put on my orange stocking cap.