Wind, Color, and Altitude: A Fall Day Chasing Legends Across Minnesota

Wind, Color, and Altitude: A Fall Day Chasing Legends Across Minnesota

Last fall, I chased the season across central Minnesota—guided by changing leaves, moody skies, and the ghost trails of a few legends.

Soaked on the Hidden Lake Trail

I kicked the day off at Lake Carlos State Park on a raw, chilly morning. The kind of day where the air bites and the woods feel heavy with silence. I set out on the Hidden Lake Trail, a path that skirts the shoreline before ducking deep into the woods.

Lake Carlos State Park

It was peak fall color—flaming reds, sunburst yellows, and oranges so intense they didn’t look real. The forest was alive with it. I had the trail to myself, which made it feel like the whole park was mine for a moment.

Then came the rain.

I had maybe a quarter mile left when the sky finally gave in. No warning drizzle—just a steady, soaking rain. I didn’t bother hurrying. There was something almost cinematic about it. Me, alone, walking through golden woods with water dripping from my lashes. Cold, yes. But completely worth it.

Breathless at Inspiration Peak

Next, I drove out to Inspiration Peak. It's not a long hike—less than half a mile—but it makes you earn every step. It’s steep. Brutally steep. And for someone who works out regularly, I still had to stop and catch my breath once. No shame.

Inspiration Peak

The summit is something else. Rolling farmland stretched out in every direction, lit up in full fall glory. You don’t just see the color—you feel swallowed by it.

Sinclair Lewis used to come here often. In his words:

“There’s nothing in the world so good as the Minnesota woods in October.”

He wasn’t wrong. There’s a strange, beautiful stillness at the top. Like the world holds its breath for a moment, and if you listen hard enough, maybe you’ll hear something important. Maybe that's what brought Lewis back again and again.

I stood there a while, wind in my face, trying to soak it all in. For a moment, I felt completely untethered from time. Just a body on a hill in the middle of something vast.

Back on Familiar Ground at Lindbergh

To finish the day, I headed to Charles A. Lindbergh State Park, a place I know well. But this time, I hiked the Hiking Club Trail, a 2-mile loop that winds through woods and past a quiet clearing with a remarkable bit of history.

"Jenny Site" - Charles A. Lindbergh State Park

That’s the spot where a young Charles Lindbergh landed his Curtiss JN-4 “Jenny.” Before the Atlantic crossing, before the global headlines, he was a kid from Little Falls learning to fly—barnstorming through the Midwest, taking off and landing in fields just like this one.

It’s wild to stand there and think this is where it all began. Not in New York. Not in Paris. But here, under the same trees, in the same quiet Minnesota air.

Final Thoughts

Three stops. One day. Rain, wind, color, history. This wasn’t just a fall hike—it was a reset. A reminder that we walk the same paths others have before us, that beauty is rarely convenient, and that sometimes, getting soaked and out of breath is exactly what you need to feel alive.

Let's keep rambling.

—Kelly