Exploring Starved Rock and Matthiessen State Parks

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“Are You Alright?”

Honestly, I wasn’t quite sure how to answer the inquiry, tinged with more than a little concern from my wife. I was deep into Starved Rock State Park’s French Canyon while she stood at the end of the trail further downstream.

Typically, in the warmer months, once the fenced trail ends, the hiker, albeit awkwardly, can straddle the stream, inching your way through the vertical canyon walls which rise steeply on either side.

However, today, deep into winter, the sandstone was covered with ice and snow. My right hand had lost its grip from the snow-covered rock outcropping just as my left foot slipped off its precarious foothold, plunging my left foot through the ice.

It took the icy waters seeping into my sock to arouse me from my musings.

“I’m fine,” I replied as I shook my dripping shoe and repositioned my handhold. Using both hands, I crab-walked my way to my destination, the icy shroud of the canyon’s winter-born icefall.

The constant freezing and melting of the ravine’s falling stream had created icy tendrils of frozen lace draping the 80’ chasm in a wintery gown. The view was spectacular and well worth my damp sock.

Escaping the Winter Blues

Once the holidays were behind us, we were becoming a bit stir-crazy and craved fresh air and the outdoors.

Kathy and I had taken advantage of a slight warming of January’s Arctic grasp when the temps eased into the 30s, a veritable heat-wave, and had driven to one of Illinois’ most beloved parks, Starved Rock.

Some 17,000 years ago, torrential floodwaters from melting glaciers gouged dramatic sandstone canyons out of the Illinois countryside in what is now Starved Rock State Park.

Those water-carved canyons can get pretty crowded during the warmer months, with over 2 million visitors annually seeking the dramatic vistas and forested beauty of the park.

However, as the cold, Arctic hand of winter settles over the Prairie State, crowds thin to small adventuresome groups and families seeking out a softer, more serene side of Starved Rock State Park.

Snow covers winter’s stark landscape, softening it into stunning vistas. The high bluffs, deep canyons, and craggy cliffs, swathed in their wintery cloak, beg for winter hiking.

Lunch at Lodi Tap House

Our first stop, prior to any outdoor adventures, was Lodi Tap House for lunch. Located in historic downtown Utica, just a five-minute drive across the river from Starved Rock State Park, Lodi Tap House’s rustic interior has growler-bottle light fixtures and a huge chalkboard full of Illinois beers.

Toby, our amazingly affable bartender/waiter, recommended the pulled pork, candied bacon sandwich topped with apple chips and a side of white cheddar curds. Wonderful choice!

Eagle Spotting at Plum Island Sanctuary

Afterward, we drove 2 miles to the Illinois Waterway Visitor Center. Operated by the US Army Corps of Engineers, the Illinois Waterway Visitor Center overlooks the busy Starved Rock Lock and Dam, giving close-up views of the barge traffic making their way up and down the river.

But we came for a more elusive quarry.

Plum Island Sanctuary, located at the base of the Starved Rock Lock, has long been a favorite wintering site for bald eagles. The open river, reliable food source, and plenty of nesting trees create a welcome retreat for wintering eagles.

As we entered the viewing deck, another couple excitedly pointed to a tree where a juvenile eagle was roosting.

Taking advantage of the telescope provided, we were able to get a closer look. Later, as we all craned our necks skyward, amongst the ubiquitous gulls and a flock of geese, a more mature eagle was seen soaring high above the river.

Exploring the Park

Eventually, we made our way into the park, stopping at the visitor’s center. Double knotting our boot-laces and pulling our coats tighter as the chilled winds began to howl off of the river, we began our first hike to the very rock that the park derives its name from.

A short ¼ mile and 65 ice-covered steps later, we reached the top of Starved Rock.

The bluff is named for a dreadful event in the late 1700s in which a band of Potawatomi Indians laid siege to a group of rival Illinois, who holed up atop the bluff until forced into starvation.

Despite the winds, we could not help but marvel at the wonderful 360-degree views of the Illinois River framed in white pine trees with the lock and dam, some 125’ beneath us. Upon our descent, we made our way into French Canyon and my shoe-drenching episode.

Retreating to Starved Rock Lodge

Ready to warm up and dry out, we headed to the rustic Starved Rock Lodge, built in the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps and now listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Nestled beneath the trees in the park on a cliff, the Starved Rock Lodge and Conference Center is primarily constructed of Joliet Limestone, unhewed logs, clapboard, and wood shingles.

It houses over 60 rooms within two wings. One wing has the lodge rooms that were built in the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps, along with cabins beyond the lodge. The other wing houses the modern rooms that were built in the 1980s.

We chose one of the historic rooms. The unique room featured floor-to-ceiling knotty pine paneling and handcrafted furniture. With quilted comforters across the beds, the rustic décor reminded me of grandma’s house. If it wasn’t for the TV, it would have been like walking into a time capsule.

Dinner by the Fireplace

After checking into our room, we were ready for dinner! A warm, inviting dining room welcomed us. We were lucky enough to secure a table next to the impressive fireplace.

Embracing the warmth, we lingered over glasses of local brews while discussing the day’s adventures. Eventually, our dinner of catfish fillets and salmon steaks appeared. The excellent meal matched the warmth of the room and staff.

The centerpiece of the Lodge is the Great Hall, whose rafters of massive pine logs soared three stories above our heads. The hall features a massive, two-sided limestone fireplace (the largest in Illinois).

After dinner, we settled into two oversized chairs near the crackling fire while I marveled at the families gathered around us, chatting animatedly, playing cards and board games with nary a cellphone in sight.

Morning Hike to St. Louis Canyon

The following morning, we awoke to a thermometer that had plunged a chilling 20 degrees overnight. Wrapping ourselves in an extra layer, we set off for an early morning pre-breakfast hike.

With our breath floating in front of us, we followed the trail that would lead us to St. Louis Canyon. Starting at the west end of the Lodge, we headed out on the bridge over the road connecting the Visitor Center and the Lodge entrances.

The roughly 4-mile round trip hike took us over two small canyons, Sac and Aurora, before leveling out along a bluff overlooking the river.

The early morning silence heightened our senses. Each slippery footfall across snow-covered leaves, the skittering steps of a squirrel across a lifeless limb, and the rat-a-tat-tat of a woodpecker seeking its morning repast all pierced the frozen quiet like a hammer against an anvil.

The trail took us down several sets of stairs, past sandstone monoliths etched with decades-old graffiti, knots of tree roots clinging to the rocks, and fallen limbs.

As we descended into the deeper reaches of the park, we followed a sign leading us alongside a creek towards the canyon.

Eventually, we had to cross the semi-frozen creek to get into the canyon. We gingerly stepped atop slick rocks and boards spanning the ice-trapped brook, holding each other up as we slipped and slid our way across.

Entering the canyon, we walked past huge sandstone boulders beneath stone walls that seemed to arc over the floor of the canyon. But it was the silent beauty of the frozen waterfall at the end of the canyon that made us both gasp.

Framed by the sheer walls, the snow-white veil of icy beauty silently crashed into the canyon floor as if carved out of a single piece of marble. Amazing!

Final Adventure in Matthiessen State Park

After a well-earned, hearty breakfast, we checked out of our cozy confines. However, before departing, we decided on one more hike. Just a short drive away is Matthiessen State Park, pronounced as MATH-thuhs-sen, named after Frederick William Matthiessen.

He owned much of the area, which was later donated to the state.

As we had never been to the park, we made the short drive to the Dells area. At the top of the canyon’s rim, the trailhead map suggested a simple 2-mile round-trip hike. Little did we know, there were more than a hundred wooden steps, many laced with snow and ice, just to get to the bridge that spanned the deep chasm.

This was followed by another short set of stairs, again full of ice, that led us downwards to the creek.

There was an unreal beauty to the surroundings as we gingerly stepped across clear ice beneath which the waters of the stream flowed. It was here that we learned from fellow hikers that the actual falls lay further downstream.

So, we trudged back up the steps, taking the rim trail a further ¼ mile until we found a new set of stairs. It was here that we learned that there were another 181 steps to the canyon floor. Oh well, downward we went.

Once on the bottom, each step became a detective novel as we weaved our way across the wintery landscape, trying to avoid the slickest spots, thin ice, and snow-covered boulders without much success, I might add.

Although the creek isn’t very deep here, I wasn’t looking for a repeat performance of my wet sock. The closer I got to the waterfall, I could hear the ice cracking beneath my feet as I searched for more stable surfaces.

Kathy hung back as I inched forward, blazing a trail.

Finally, rounding a small bend, the falls came into view. An icy curtain hung precariously from the upper shelf, piling onto itself at the canyon’s floor until it had created a frigid mound of its once-watery contents.

Surrounded by a stony amphitheater, the walls echoed with shrieks of laughter as a hiker attempted to scale the falls. It seemed ill-advised as she stumbled and slid her way back down.

The 100’ steep sandstone cliffs on either side are interspersed with small caves all of which added to our experience. It was finally time to leave our picturesque surroundings.

We slowly made our way back to the rim up the many stairs, through snowmelt and muddy trails that caked our boots. It was a small price to pay for such otherworldly beauty.

Each winter, snow brings a magic carpet to the landscapes of Starved Rock and Matthiessen State Parks, creating a serene winter wonderland that is well worth the effort to visit.

If You Go:

Starved Rock State Park and Lodge is located less than 100 miles southwest of Chicago. Matthiessen State Park is 4½ miles south of Starved Rock.

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