Since the city is so close, many people come to the park to walk their dogs and take their daily walks. It was pleasant to see so many friendly faces, especially after the night I'm about to describe to you. We arrived into New Ulm on Friday, November 1, the day after Loki's Bash. We opted to tour the brewery the next day, so we got checked into the camper cabin, and went for a hike while the light still favored us. We did a relatively easy-looking hike that turned out to be longer than we'd intended as we must've gotten twisted around, which virtually never happens when Hubby is navigating. I think some critical signs must've been missing from the trail, and at one point I noticed there was a red flag tied to a tree branch that I assumed someone put there to guide you along to the next trail sign. I might point out here that it is ALWAYS wise to bring a satchel with water, some sort of sustenance, a flashlight, gloves, hat and other items that may be necessary to your survival should you get stuck out in the middle of the woods. Thankfully, we did not get stuck out there and found our way back with just a tinge of panic, but the thought has crossed my mind on a number of these state park hikes when we did not leave the cabin prepared, and I fretted all the while about the sun going down, leaving us city slickers utterly alone and vulnerable out in the wilds. Breathing sighs of relief at the sight of the campground, we chillaxed a bit before heading back to New Ulm city centre for a German supper at Veigel's Kaiserhoff!
Very tasty German food at the 'Hoff
Other than our craft brew faves, Schell's is a preferred big brewery beer of ours. This Fresh Hop was delicious!
We had a lovely date, gabbing and eating and drinking. We shared a German specialty plate of assorted meats, homemade sauerkraut, warm potato salad and freshly baked breads. I ordered a coffee because I was chilled to the bone after hiking, John getting a jump on the Schell's tour by sampling some of their Fresh Hop which was awesome. After filling our tummies, it was time to head back for a crackling campfire!
Getting back, we kept our warm clothes on and started up a gorgeous fire. It was fickle, and the smoke followed us every direction we went, trying to escape its bitter sting in our eyes, but it knew which way we went and then sent billows that way! As we sat there, the winds picked up even more fiercely than before, sometimes blowing out the flames of our fire leaving just glowing logs. The trees had that eerie look to them being back-lit by what remained of the sun peeking behind a closing horizon. The sky grew ever-deeper blue, then black, and the stars made their gradual, gracious appearance above. My nerves were not lacking in twitch and twitter as sounds from far away seemed to close in around us. Noises from other campers deep in the forest beyond ours in what is dubbed "primitive campground" ebbed and flowed with the direction of the winds. I was convinced there were gangs of soul-less spawns of Ed Gein partying in their bloodlust, but it was probably just a bunch of guys hanging around a campfire. John seemed completely unperturbed by these things, and he happily set about stoking the fire and snuggling me close to him, but I was on full alert, even doubly so knowing the Wild Hunt is on the loose.
The autumnal season has probably more folklore than any other, which greatly interests me. This time of year is marked by distinct changes in the weather, particularly the winds. Various traditions call this dark, liminal time The Wild Hunt. You may notice the winds getting stronger, more fierce, starkly cold, intense. If you stand upon a bridge during this time, these awesome winds can literally take your breath away. There are many variations on the story of the Wild Hunt, and sure just as many names for it, but the overarching theme is that spectral riders of gods and/or the dead spirits of our ancestors fly across the earth, gathering all the souls lost in the previous year, taking them to a "place" where (depending on the origin of the story and the ultimate Fate of the soul) consciousness resides eternally, or the soul is brought to the "cosmic soup", milled and recycled for future incarnations. In some mythologies, this is considered a wondrous, thrilling honor, and in others, a terrifying fate. It is said that should you see the Wild Hunt (or should they see you), glimpse the chariots or steeds they ride, or if you hear the baying of hounds during their ride, that you will be swept up with The Wild Hunt. As we sat there, my thoughts dwelled on these tales. As the dark deepened, so did my anxiety. I mentioned the tales lightly to John, but all the while my eyes scanned the wild woods, the bare branches of the trees, the smoke wending its way round our campfire. It was not just once my hand went to clasp my Thor's Hammer that night. Through my fear, I still had an awesome time. It may seem strange to speak of soul robbery, the cosmic soup and eternal blackness, and to also speak of romance and wonder! But I guess it's sort of like taking your honey to a scary movie, there's something about fear in humans that gives us the thrill for life, and realize the warmth and strength of those who walk our path with us.
After the shivers of cold got to be too much, and we'd had a couple of S'Mores a piece, we subdued the fire and headed indoors for some Backgammon. After playing a number of games, during which John kept returning to check on the dying coals (which flared again at one point into a full fire!), and soon we fell into our beds with our books, and gradually our eyes drew closed. I'd been up to pee in my trusty bucket a couple of times, and though I begged John not to go outside to pee for fear his living soul was in danger, he went out there anyway to relieve himself and to check on the coals. Around 2:30am, his return into the cabin must've woke me, and he beckoned me quietly, "Rachel. You've got to see this." We quietly crept outdoors and there was such a fantastic, beautiful and creepy sight! The whole valley was covered in a blanket of glittering, eerie-bright fog. It was LIGHT. It must have been the light of the moon refracting against the moisture particles in the fog, but it was light enough to see across the campground with enough clarity as to make out the pathways, individual trees and brush. We stood there, holding each other in silence as we marveled at the sight. Suddenly, I was gripped with a fear in my solar plexus. I could hear someone or something urinating. It was the unmistakable sound of a tall thing, man or beast, pissing pointedly into the ground. Unsure if John heard it, as his hearing isn't near as acute as mine, or if my paranoia was finally driving me mad, I whispered to him, "Do you hear that? Something is urinating." His body stiffened as he listened. Our eyes searched the campgrounds, but neither of us seeing the source of the peeing. It was close enough that I thought it could be coming from behind our cabin. My panic had to be restrained as I saw John quietly reach for the door of the cabin. We moved quickly inside, locking the door behind us. I had to forcefully quell the rising frenzy of fear! In my mind, I was telling myself it must be a large deer, taking innocent relief of its bladder as it strolled through its wooded home, unawares of frightened humans in its midst. But the other part of my mind was telling me it was some drunken brute, armed with his hunting gun and looking for a thrill to cap off his evening of terrible deeds so common to man. The motives of men scare me perhaps more than anything, but the fear of pure primal instinct in the form of a hungry bear lags not far behind. I never knew I had such a fear of bears until I started camping. But from the dark recesses of my mind, it has been uncovered. It was some time before we could fall asleep again.
As ever, the light of a new day brings with it relief and hope and energy for new adventures. We dressed quickly and ran into town for coffee, not wanting to spend the rest of our time in the woods fussing over a fire. We had granola breakfast bars and apples, then set off for a long, wonderful hike into the woods, made hospitable by the sun. We came across a whole flock of wild turkeys along the path who skittered along the trail before us! So funny to watch :) We hiked along the Cottonwood River, that ran smooth but quite low, and among the brilliant red-orange maples and great oaks. We came across a perfect little skull of some critter we couldn't identify. We saw lots of molds and mushrooms growing on the trees and in the ground, including some of the most massive fungi we've ever seen! All the while, I could feel John's tension from his daily troubles ease even more as we walked and talked lightly amongst the trees and dirt. There is sometimes a great chasm of longing and emptiness that I feel inside, and some time ago, I realized that it was eased and filled and comforted by being with nature. We need nature, it is part of us humans. It IS us. Those of us Minneapolitan's don't have to go far to find it, but we do need to do it consciously. Especially for us who live among the concrete jungles of downtown, we must seek it out. And so I noticed that John's jitters and agitation and stress lightened all the more by this long, sunny, cool walk. I think many people do not put their finger upon this need, and try fruitlessly to fill that empty space with material things, not ever realizing that it can't be filled with stuff, it needs to be filled with soul.
After enjoying our long, relaxing hike, we bid farewell to the cabin that kept our bodies and souls safe through the night. I said goodbye to the flying squirrels that kept flitting through the trees, the many crows that had made noisy flights above us, to the eerie valley and its many secrets. We packed the car and headed into town for the Schell's brewery tour!
Schell's Brewery is stunningly beautiful, at least from the outside. They were doing extensive renovations on the interior buildings, so we could not tour them, but the grounds and mansion were simply gorgeous. I'm usually not too taken with grandiose, lavishness, but these grounds and buildings were not simply erected, they were crafted.
For $3, you get a detail of the very interesting history of the brewery, the family and its interesting lineage, the Native American uprisings that left Schell's lands untouched as the rest of the city burned based on their good relationship with local Native peoples, and their ongoing survival during the long Prohibition years. Oh, and also a load of free beer! We must've sampled 12 kinds of beer! I had to be very careful with portions, taking only a sip of each one, because I was driving home. We hung around the brewery grounds for quite awhile, too, just to allow a little more time before jumping in the car straight away. They keep deer and peacocks on the grounds, though it was never explained and now I wish I would have asked about them. I even scored a couple of peacock under-feathers as we meandered the grounds. The peacocks had FOUR little babies! And there were two young deer, as well. It was truly a gorgeous place! What a dream job, to be a brew-meister and mistress, living in the gorgeous Minnesota woodlands!
