Amy Lu's View

Location. Location. Location.

It’s not only important for real estate, but also sandwiches. 

Eating hummus sandwiches has become one of life’s greatest small pleasures for me. (Yes, “greatest small” makes complete sense here). The sandwiches are nothing sexy–Village Hearth Light Wheat or 12 Grain bread (hardly fine quality bread but it works), hummus (usually Tribe brand garlic), and some veggies–usually sliced mushrooms, peppers, some lettuce and sprouts. But the joy comes not just in the hummus sandwich, but in eating it at a local state park, ideally on a lunch break during a 6ish mile walk/hike. 

Visiting parks became a thing for me during Covid when I was looking for safe activities, and it’s been an interest I’ve sustained. Even as the Covid situation has felt more manageable, I really got into Minnesota state parks during the late summer months and fall of this year. In the last two months, I’ve made eight day trips to eight different State Parks: Lake Maria, Minnesota Valley, Afton, Interstate, Wild River, Frontenac, Nerstrand, and William O’Brien. My favorite? They all have their charms and quirks, but I think I’m most enamored with Wild River. 

I eat two sandwiches per excursion, so that’s a lot of hummus sandwiches. (Also a lot of vacation days, but as a long term county employee who rarely takes “big” vacation I have a healthy balance of vacation hours to spend). 

And of course, a lot of photos from my attempts to be an arty smart phone nature photographer, and selfies. But I don’t have any photos of my hummus sandwiches, which feels like a failing. 

It’s also a fair amount of miles–most days I walk/hike at least 6 miles. (I’m not sure what makes something a “hike” but I think it involves more climbing and more effort than I expend). I am NOT running during these park visits, despite what some of my Facebook friends assume. Without going into too many details, my explanation is that trail running is a very different type of running than what I do. Perhaps even more importantly, going to a park to run would involve a different set of logistics that would not be conducive to the consumption of sandwiches. Maybe someday I will venture into trail running and adjust my schedule to allow for running plus sandwich intake, but I’m not there yet. 

So as winter approaches, I’m a little sad that yesterday, with its glorious (if climatologically frightening) unseasonably warm weather, may have heralded the last hummus sandwich of this hiking season. 

Yes, my daily life affords me many other opportunities to eat hummus sandwiches–I have the means, I have the technology–but the sandwich without the park experience isn’t what I’m looking for. It’s the location, the context, the tradition, the ritual that makes a hummus sandwich in a state park a treat for me. 

Why do I love State Parks so much? Obviously, I love being in nature, and being outdoors. While I obviously don’t love bugs (blessedly gone the last few weeks) and using port-a-potties (although I’m not too squeamish) those inconveniences are a price I’m willing to pay. I love walking and delving into audiobooks (yes, I listen to some nature but primarily this is audiobook time for me). But mostly, I love the feeling like I’ve stepped outside of my regular life, if just for a little bit, and that I’m having some “Amy Time” and doing an “Amy Thing.” 

But now, I think this is the end of my state park season. 

Who knows? It’s possible that I may get heartier and start doing some cold weather hiking. Or maybe by next spring I’ll be over my fascination with state parks. So far, I’ve enjoyed the sense of exploration–What will this park, these trails, be like?–and maybe by next year I won’t care about visiting parks anymore. Maybe I’ll simply feel fulfilled: “Been there, done that.” Or maybe I’ll spend most of 2023 in a yurt (since I don’t really know what a yurt is, that seems unlikely, but it’s a fun word to say in my head).

So for now I’m going to wallow in some wistfulness grounded in gratitude for state parks, and smartphone photography, and hummus.