May 17, 1997 Interstate Park and Osceola
Interstate Park encompasses the Dalles of the St. Croix, adjacent to the towns of Taylors Falls, MN and St. Croix Falls, WI. It protects unique glacially sculptured cliffs and potholes along the river. We bought our season sticker and stuck it on our windshield next to a five year accumulation. I hate to remove the old ones because their great souvenirs, but we were running out of room, so I picked the ugliest one and peeled. This years was kind of pretty, nice color and design.
We ate lunch next to a small brooklet that gurgled quietly next to the main parking area, which only had three cars, besides our own. It was early spring yet, so there were only a few bugs about. The cool weather had delayed trees from leafing and spring wildflowers were just starting. Next to the brooklet grew several blooming marsh marigolds, skunk cabbage with huge, light green leaves, and jack-in-the-pulpit with it's thick stem and strange, hooded flower.
We marched across the tiny bridge spanning the tiny brooklet and followed the trail back to where we had found an ice fall last spring. No ice today, but the spot trickled COLD water. The trail split and we followed the path leading upwards to the top of the cliff where an old dead white pine stood. There had been a bunch of vultures in this tree on an earlier visit, but we would only see one today. Turkey vultures are very prehistoric looking if you can get a close look at them. Their head and neck are bare and have a red, leathery appearance. As we rested on a large, bare rocky area on the cliff top, we saw rock climbers on the cliffs on the other side of the river, and we saw one of the paddle boats load and depart on it's excursion tour down the river.
The sun on the bare rocks was making me too warm, so I convinced my wife Wendy, and kids Amber and Erin, that we should move down to the river to cool off. Down we went to an area known as the Icebox, a jumble of huge, 6 to 10 feet boulders, that had accumulated at the base of the highest section of cliff. Air circulating deep into the ground around the boulders comes out at the lowest levels with quite a chill. A rock climber had fallen 120 feet to his death in this area last week. It seems someone falls every year. The icy river water was still so cold as to cause pain, as several of us found out. None of us felt like doing a lot of hiking today so we decided to explore. Off we went to Osceola, WI only a few miles south of here.
Osceola is only a few hundred feet away from the St. Croix and was supposed to have a waterfall right in town. We found it right across from the dairy queen, next to the main road. Parking on main street, it was a short walk to the staircase leading down to the base of the waterfall, 129 steps below. The staircase took us down thru the treetops into a deep ravine. The first thing we saw was a rufous towhee sitting on a branch at the top of a tree, but at our eye level. The waterfall was neat. It was a half-bowl shape, twenty or more feet high, carved from yellow limestone. A layer of harder stone projected as a lip from near the top, causing the flow of water to form a curtain behind which you could walk without getting wet. Of course, you had to walk on a ledge about half way up. I wish I could bottle the sound of the falling water and the feel of the mist and the fresh, moist smell. A trail lead downstream to where this stream converged with the St. Croix. I had never seen such masses and sizes of horsetails, an ancient looking plant. There were many skunk cabbage and marsh marigolds. Signs of beaver activity were numerous.
Back at the top of the waterfall is the old mill, now a gift shop. A large turbine from the original mill was displayed in the yard, and a huge, 2 foot diameter, iron pipe, embedded in the stream bottom, rose as a ghostly remnant, defying gravity to a height of 30 feet or more.
Driving around town before we left, we saw an albino squirrel in someone's front yard. We had also seen normal squirrels today, but what was weird is that we would also see a black squirrel on the way home. I admit I went a little out of my way to do it, but I thought it would be fun to see three different colored squirrels in one day. From previous experience, I knew that black squirrels lived in a cemetery near Cameron, which would be on our way home. Sure enough, there were several playing around, chasing each other amongst the monuments.
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