My senses awaken as I leave the trailhead of Greens Coulee Park behind. I inhale the scent of spring—fresh moss, dried leaves, and damp earth. Birds chatter in the hickory and oak trees. The farther I walk, the more their chirps overpower the distant hum of traffic.
It is an uncharacteristically warm day in March. Still, the forest is mostly dormant. At first, my eyes scan the horizon and I see only a unified shade of brown. The tree limbs and vines appear bare.
More depth is revealed as I walk. Fuzzy green moss clings to the trees. Purple vines wrap around each other. A smattering of small red berries hangs like dewdrops in the brush.
My calves and hamstrings start to burn as I continue walking upward. I see my first robin of the season—and then two more. A black squirrel scurries up a birch tree.
I pause to inspect the fungus growing on a fallen birch beside the trail. The mushroom reminds me of an oyster shell, with lines of pale green, pearl, and brown. The birch has been dead long enough to become something more: home to a new life form.
The flapping of wings to my right alerts me to a bright red bird darting across a sea of white bark—a cardinal in a dense cropping of birch trees. I also spot a hole in a nearby tree. A woodpecker has been here.
I continue hiking up. I strip off my winter jacket, mittens, and hat. It is 50 degrees in March, but I am sweating. My legs ache and my heart thuds.
Will the view be worth it? I wonder.
I stop to catch my breath. The bluffs in the distance take on a blue-grey tone. They remind me of the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina. The houses below are not much bigger than Lego pieces, and they’re disappearing behind the trees.
I continue my hike and the trail begins to plateau. The burning in my legs subsides and my breath deepens. Slowly, the trail narrows and then reveals a 360-degree view of the landscape, unperturbed by trees.
There is a bench to rest on and enjoy the view. I am grateful for the rest. A crow caws overhead. The March wind cools my warm skin, and I reapply my layers.
White, puffy clouds drift over the blue-tinted bluffs and the Mississippi River. From this vantage point, I can see the journey I’ve made. The trail I walked looks like a thin brown snake weaving through the woods. I hiked farther than I thought. I feel proud of how far I’ve come.
The walk back down is easier. I’m aligned with the slower pace of the natural world. My legs, heart, and mind are more at ease. I return to the trailhead more at peace than when I started.
I find the answer to my own question: Was the view worth it? Definitely, yes.
Want to learn more about the Onalaska Blufflands and Greens Coulee? Visit our nature preserves page for a map and more information: https://www.mississippivalleyconservancy.org/land-protection/onalaska-blufflands