Pot-a-wat-o-what?

(A.K.A. Happenings and Mishappenings in Door County)

Yesterday I took a trip to Potawatomi State Park here in Door County. Lucky for me, the rain held off, and it wasn't too cold for a good hike in the woods. I found a good spot to park on the farthest end of the park near a trail head where I was sure I would find no other human soul. I took a moment to bundle up in my favorite sweatshirt, a vest, and a stocking hat, ready to find an adventure. With park map in hand, I took off down the trail, not knowing exactly what to expect. I gave a quick call to Mom just to let her know I was ok, and I took off, confident that this would be a great hike.

I walked only about twenty minutes through some very thick timber when the path opened up right to the lake. Before I could even see it, I could hear the waves lapping up on the rocky shore. I broke a few park rules and left the well-worn trail to experience the shoreline a little closer. White-washed rocks, all square and flat were scattered for as far as the eye could see in both directions down the water's edge. I could have sat there all day...if I would have had all day that is. It was already nearly 5:00, and I wanted to get some more hiking in before it got dark. Fearing that I would get lost (which seems pretty difficult on a shoreline...you really only have two directions to go), I jumped back on the trail and walked a little longer. When the trail veered away from the shore, I decided to turn around and follow that beautiful rocky shore right back to where I had come from. The sound of the water was just too relaxing to walk away from.

Back into the thick timber, I walked slowly, satisfied with my adventure. I was deep in a daydream when I heard a twig snap. Jolted back to reality, I glanced around, worried suddenly that I could possibly be in some sort of danger. Instead I found a small and very pretty deer about ten feet from me in the path. There she stood, checking me out as much as I was checking her out. Then a second and a third poked their heads from around their trees to check me out, too. They all munched away, with one mindful eye on me and my every move. Finally, not wanting to disturb them, I hunched down to a squat and just watched. I watched until finally the deer got bored with me and walked on to better munching grounds.

And how better to end my day at Potawatomi than to climb a 75-year-old 100-foot wooden tower to view the lake and the treetops from above. God must love looking down at his creation all the time. Something so beautiful is hard to take your eyes off of.

Today was fantastic as well. Already feeling relaxed and rejuvenated, I decided to take off again for a new and exciting destination. This time however, the actual destination was unknown. It was the journey I was after. The cloudy skies had held back all day, not allowing a single drop to fall, but at about 2:30, just as I was leaving my last school, I saw one, then another, then a downpour of all the days saved-up drops...just trying to ruin my adventure. And they could have. All those little rain drops could have chased me right back to my hotel room where I would have hermitted until dawn. But I decided that there was adventure to be had, rain or not, I was off.

I took off north of Sturgeon Bay wanting to peek at as many nooks and crannies of Door County as were physically possible before dark. Heading up the east side of the peninsula, I followed a scenic route or two before I hit a double whammy of parks. Whitefish Dunes State Park and Cave Point County Park. These parks shared an entrance road except for one crucial difference: state parks cost money to enter and county parks are free. Carefully navigating by the road signs, I made sure to only enter this unknown territory of the county park. It turned out to be one main parking lot with a few picnic tables and an information kiosk. The rain was still coming down pretty good, but I couldn't really see beyond the picnic area, and I was curious to find out what the attraction of the park could be.

I debated with myself in the nice warm dry car for a bit before the curiosity was just too much to stand. Bundled up with that lovable hooded sweatshirt, hood up, I headed for the kiosk. I read for a bit, but for the life of me, I just couldn't figure out what the heck it was trying to tell me. There were diagrams and glacier talk that I just didn't get. Finally, before reading the whole thing, I took off to just over the small ridge when the most wonderful sound hit my ears. Water...not just water...but pounding waves, crashing up against...well, something.

Over the ridge there was, well, a cliff. But when I looked down, all I saw was water flowing under where I was. I walked around on the rocky ledge until the crashing was much louder when I could finally see what was beneath me. It was a beautiful cave...a whole shoreline of cave-like structures, all crashing and roaring. Oh, how I would have loved to climb down to the base of a few of the caves, put my feet in the cool water, and be engulfed in the majesty of the whole thing-the sounds, the smells, the feel of the waves. I could have chosen a smooth rock and perched there for hours just listening, maybe singing along with the waves' heavenly song. But after just a few minutes of taking in the grandeur, I had also taken on much water. My beloved sweatshirt was several pounds heavier than it had started, my hands a little colder than I would have liked.

Throughout the drive, I took many detours so I could remain as close to the lake as I could. I spent more time driving 15 miles an hour than any other speed, which couldn't have made me happier. Around every bend I found waterfront homes with their own personal beaches. Some of the homes were small and nearly worn out with pure love. Others were massive and regal, like mansions. But my favorites were the ones you couldn't even see. The timber was so thick in some spots that all you could see was a well-worn opening in the trees that wound around into the shadows. No pavement, no gravel, just a worn dirt path. Now, if the driveway takes your breath away, can you imagine what wonders the home at the end must contain?

After several hours of awe and admiration of many neighborhoods and timberlines, I decided I still had time to head north, but the farther north, the heavier the rains and the darker the skies. So, after making it as far as the shining little town of Ephraim, I headed straight back to Sturgeon Bay with no pit stops, detours, or park hopping.

This week has done more for my soul than I ever could have imagined. I began this week with feelings of loneliness and sheer exhaustion, and I will end it with a renewed sense of accomplishment and energy, knowing I'm in the right place, the place God that has put me for reasons that I don't have to understand. Who knew that all of that could have come out of little ol' Door County?