The tranquil nooks of Island Lake

Island Lake, Illinois


It was around 6° C when I went out into the wooden porch. The early afternoon weather was crisp, and the smell of damp soil and wood resin filled the air. I stood quietly, feet apart, and slowly raised both arms, to start the Wu-Style Tai Chi exercises. I slowly shifted my weight to one leg, then the other, lifted and lowered my arms, and pivoted, breathing slowly, maintaining equipoise. 

 

My husband Alex and I, together with my parents-in-law, visited Gilbert, Alex’s youngest brother, in his home in Island Lake, Illinois one late fall season. He lived on a quiet, leafy street, in a beautiful home surrounded by a flowering garden, which included pink peonies. A porch was just outside the dining room, and in that wooden balcony open to the grass and sky, one could simply sit and listen to the swishing of the leaves of the trees. Curious squirrels too, came to sniff and look, then scampered on the ground, ran up and down the trees, saving food for winter. 

 

Island Lake is a suburb near Chicago, at the northwestern part of Illinois, very close to Wisconsin. It belonged to the Lake and McHenry counties, and close by was the Moraine Hill State Park, which, we discovered, had scenic lakes and forest trails, perfect for hiking, biking, fishing, boat riding, and when in season, deer hunting. There were areas for skiing too, in winter.

 

One morning Gil drove us to Lake Defiance in the Moraine Hill State Park, near the McHenry Dam. In the public park, we started walking, following a clear trail. The weather was cool, almost cold, even in mid-morning. Our breaths were coming out in vapors, and the sky became overcast for a while, making the temperature dip lower. There were tall evergreen and birch trees, flowering shrubs and hedges, and soft grass at the wayside. Songbirds were everywhere, and from time to time we could see blurs of small furry creatures darting in and out of the trees’ roots, probably raccoons and opossums. Thoughtfully, there were wooden benches scattered around the trail, because it was all of 3.7 miles, and although the walk was at a moderate pace, the body wanted to rest for a while. As we walked further I noticed a change in the flora. Slowly, brown bulrushes replaced the green color. The area suddenly became a swathe of marshy reeds, with occasional, lonely bare trees standing among them. Before long, we reached the edges of Lake Defiance, which was a large, 48-acre body of still water as far as the eye could see. There must be a rich ecosystem in this area, as we noted different plants growing in the waters. We were also joined by long-legged marsh birds, from time to time dipping their long beaks underwater probably to scrounge for lunch.    

 

Around the bend we came upon a series of wooden steps, going down into the bog and marshes, at the end of which was a weather-beaten wooden porch. It was a good spot for watching migratory waterfowls around the lake, or simply for breathing in the fresh air filled with forest smells. Because of the stark wooden structure, the open skies and the still waters, the place looked perfect for Zen meditation. 

 

There were other trails to take, we learned, and a few days later we went back to the park to follow the Yellow Fox River Trail, a shorter two-mile winding path. We started at an area called Oak Opening where there were open-air swings with rubber tire seats. Oh, it’s been ages since we sat and enjoyed ourselves on a swing! There were no other people around, so we swung to our heart’s content, behind us a thick forest of tall, pine trees. In the area, long, wooden picnic tables were also provided, with wash-up and toilet facilities. 

 

Again, we marveled at the quiet scenery, the winding, limestone-paved trail, the sudden honking of wild geese above, and what Rilke said about silence needed for writing: walking for hours and meeting no one. 

Among the many lakes dotting the area around Gil’s house was Island Lake, and one of its banks was just a short drive away. One afternoon, Betty (Alex’ sister), his father, Alex and I went to one of the lake’s edges, bringing with us a yellow, inflatable kayak. It was just enough for one person, and we carried it toward a small wooden jetty. A Mexican gentleman was sitting quietly nearby, fishing. Before long, Alex was paddling in the middle of the water, a perfect yellow amidst the light violet tint of the lake, and dark green backdrop of weeping willows in the far-off edges of land. It certainly looked like a 17th  century Chinese painting, framed in the teal-blue shade of the afternoon sky. We sat on one of the picnic benches, as we enjoyed the tranquility of the scene, breathing in the cool air, and from time to time, watched some mallard ducks swimming in from the other side of the lake. 

 

The next afternoon we reached the same spot after around a 20-minute walk through leafy streets and peaceful neighborhood. The air was colder, and the mist seemed to rise above the water. On the wooden jetty we found around 16 mallard ducks crowding around each other, some preening their feathers, some simply standing quietly, others seemingly asleep, their heads tucked under their wings. A few though were already swimming in the lake. 

 

We found perfect trails, too, for our daily walking exercises, just by walking out of Gil’s place. Most of the houses, which were far apart from each other, had big gardens and tall trees. We met a few neighbors who walked their dogs, and one time even found ourselves browsing through a garage sale in Spruce Terrace, one of the nearby streets. Such a quiet haven, indeed, for city folks with weary and careworn hearts! —KG, GMA News