Beaver Creek Valley State Park
Any time I start a creative project, no matter how insignificant, a part of me can’t help but imagine that this is the thing that will make me wildly famous. A literary agent will catch wind of it, a movie director, and pretty soon, there I am, crunching crostini and sipping champagne on Rodeo Drive, walking the red carpet, my long name up in lights.
Not that I even want this kind of life. Me? Rodeo Drive? I don’t even know what crostini are.
Nonetheless, when we started this blog and told everyone it was just for fun–it was!–a part of me couldn’t help but imagine book deals, interviews, an article or two, at least, in the New York Times.
None of this happened, obviously.
And yet, for one brief moment, down in the southeast corner of Minnesota’s bluff lands, on the second day of our Driftless Region trip, one wholesome looking park ranger working the desk at the Beaver Creek Valley State Park visitor center made it all worth while.
“Hi” I said, greeting her as she stepped out of the station. “We’re here to…”
“Oh, I know who you are,” the ranger said. “Don’t you have a blog?”
Bright lights. Flashbulbs. Cocktails. It turns out she used to work at Rice Lake and had heard about us from her boss. She’d been following the blog, waiting for us to arrive.
Beaver Creek Valley State Park was nice, if treacherous with ice. It has bluffs, a stream–in summer filled with trout. Really, though, we were too busy basking in the limelight to pay too much attention.
Evidence of a Creature
NEXT UP: Great River Bluffs and John. A. Latsch State Parks.