Lost Lake

I recently spent some time at a small part of Muskegon State Park called Lost Lake. While it's not hard to find, you can certainly find yourself lost in its serene beauty. Lost Lake is truly an amazing place.

Parking my car at Snug Harbor gives me the best location to get to the lake quickly. The easy walk there is about a half of a mile; the full trip around the lake and back is about a mile and a half. The time it takes may vary greatly depending on how much time you spend taking everything in.

The peaceful nature that the park offers immediately surrounds me as I start the trail. I really feel welcome as squirrels, chipmunks, and birds inspect their new guest. In past trips I had the opportunity to catch a doe and her still spotted fawn. The youngster was spying on me as I snapped this picture. This time, however, I was getting the feeling I would have the whole lake to myself.

The trail is wide enough to accommodate two to three people across so you never feel cramped or rushed to get out of the way of other hikers. Along each side of the trail are fallen trees that now house many of the small animals who call the park home. There are countless trees: oaks, maples, and pines along with some birch and many others.


The switch from dirt to sand on the trail is nearly my only indication that I am reaching my destination. It appears almost out of nowhere. I am quickly awestruck by the scene. It is a relatively warm winter day. The sun is trying to poke through the clouds. All around me I see small patches of snow clinging on to their existence by a thread. The melting snow is creating a fog that puts me into a place not of this world.

It is that sacrifice which makes this trip visually stunning. There are countless times when I catch myself as its wistful solitude envelopes me. Only the occasional hiker brings me back to reality.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the smells of the surrounding vegetation. The stress just melts away and parts with me as I exhale. This is nature. I can feel it in my soul.

I continue on my venture around the lake. The waterfowl that normally invade the area during the fall have long since migrated south. Absent are the quacks of an army of ducks. Left to me is the most tranquil sound on this earth. It is indescribable. The only way to hear it is to clear your mind and truly listen. No animals stirring, no birds singing, no thoughts of work, bills, appointments; just the whisper of Mother Nature herself speaking in a cryptic dialect only understood in this wondrous habitat.

I am now on the other side of the lake from where I started. I can see the bench, which I have spent many hours enjoying the sweet melody of songbirds during the warmer months.

Suddenly there is a crashing in the woods. Small animals and birds thought to be absent scurry in all directions. Whatever is disturbing this frozen moment is quickly approaching. I ready my camera in eager anticipation. In an instant, the oncoming subject changes direction. The silent wind has conspired with my scent to betray me. Unable to get a decent shot I stand up to watch the white tail wave as it disappears into the surrounding trees.

One last shot before I depart these mystical surroundings.

Once again, it's time to return to civilization; a place where I feel more lost than anywhere else.