Smoky Gold

An autumnal walk in Sig's footsteps

I went in search of tamaracks last week.

While Labor Day might be the unofficial end of summer, Halloween always feels more like a true change of season to me. It’s when I shift to grabbing a jacket every time I step outside and when the radiators in my apartment shudder to life after months of quiet. There’s a change in the air—more leaves are on the ground than on the trees and mornings begin to include the crunch of frosty grass.

In The Singing Wilderness, Sigurd F. Olson¹ wrote about this time of year:

“The leaves are gone from the hillsides and the glory of the red maple and of the yellow aspen and birch is strewn upon the ground. Only in the protected swamps is there any color, the smoky gold of the tamaracks.”

The draw of that smoky gold led me into a bog.

About an hour northwest of Chicago is the Volo Bog State Natural Area, which the Illinois DNR describes as “the southern-most open water quaking bog in North America to exhibit all stages of bog succession.” A half mile boardwalk loops through the marsh zone, the tall shrub zone, the tamarack zone, the low shrub zone, and the herb mat before reaching the eye of the bog. Signs urge visitors to be careful—there are hazardous soils, poisonous plants, and the boardwalk is overdue for repairs—but once I caught a glimpse of smoky gold in the distance, nothing could slow me down.

From the viewing platform that swayed under my feet with every step, I took in the ring of tamaracks around the open water and wondered if Sig had ever been here.

Seventy or so years ago, he visited tamarack bogs in Illinois and noted their similarity to the ones where he lived.² The interpretive sign I found at the eye of the bog echoed his observations: “Most of these plants are much more characteristic of northern ecosystems—so a visit to Volo Bog is a bit like traveling to Minnesota or Canada!”³ For a few moments on that boardwalk, I pretended that I had indeed taken a trip north and was no longer at a “relic tamarack swamp”⁴ squeezed in between busy roads and cookie cutter housing developments.

There were almost certainly more bogs in Illinois in Sigurd Olson’s time, but even writing in the 1950s, he was worried about their future as he saw peatlands get transformed into farmland. If the 1958 fundraising effort⁵ to purchase Volo Bog for conservation hadn’t been successful, there might not be tamaracks so close to Chicago today.

There is something magical about a tamarack. Perhaps because it is unexpected and contrary to what I think I know. Conifers are evergreens—except when they are not. My brain needed a moment to recalibrate when I saw those yellow needles and in that breath, I found room for reflection.

Sig was a bit more poetic, writing:

“Their smoky gold in late October will always be a benediction before the coming of the snows.”

Chicago doesn’t get nearly as much snow as Ely, MN where the Olsons called home, so I spent my moment of reflection anticipating the shorter days and the sunsets before 5pm that will drive me indoors, alone, for the upcoming winter months. But a flame of hope also sparked in my chest, fed by the reminder that these tamaracks are still here for me to enjoy because of the efforts years ago by people I will never meet.

Surrounded by the last gasp of fall color, I stood in their footsteps, in Sig’s footsteps, and in the footsteps of all who have ever ventured into a bog in search of smoky gold and I felt at peace.

1. I’ve previously written about one of Sigurd Olson’s other essays from The Singing Wilderness. As I said in a footnote there, I claim no relationship that would give me the familiarity to occasionally refer to him as Sig, but I challenge anyone to read his essays and not feel a little bit like he has become an old friend.

2. From in The Singing Wilderness:

“Not long ago I traveled through Illinois, Indiana, and Iowa, and there I found many small and isolated tamarack bogs no different from those in the north. There were the same trees with their undercover of bog plants, even the same birds and insects, an identical ecological community.”

3. The sign at the center of Volo Bog:

4. From The Singing Wilderness:

“In the midwestern states, it is doubtful if the relic tamarack swamps can long survive the onslaught of the bulldozer and the ditching machine.”

5. From the Illinois DNR website:

“Volo Bog was purchased in 1958 when local citizens partnered with the newly formed state chapter of The Nature Conservancy and mounted a fundraising campaign. The land was later deeded to the University of Illinois. In the late 1960s, local citizens again advocated for Volo Bog to protect the site from proposed development, and encouraged its eventual transfer to the Illinois Department of Conservation (now the Illinois Department of Natural Resources) for management.”