MINNESOTA
MINNESOTA
Art of the State (Parks)
Minnesota reveals itself through sound — warblers returning to their summer homes, boots on slushy snow, waterfalls changing timbre as you move past — these aren’t just background details to me, they’re the story. My audio narratives invite you to enter these places through your ears first and let memory and imagination do the rest.
sounding the seasons
What does late-winter snow sound like underfoot? How does solitude feel when your only companion is a loon’s mournful call? Can you sense the cool smoothness of Sioux quartzite in your hand or the mist of a waterfall on your face?
As a professional flutist and classical radio host, I’ve held a lifelong fascination with how we perceive the world through sound. For the past 17 years, I’ve honed my audio narrative craft through the Blissful Hiker™ podcast, taking you with me onto trails across six continents.
These “essays-in-sound” blend personal reflections with vivid field recordings and evoke place with the immediacy and intimacy of a picture book read aloud.
I was honored to receive an individual artist grant from the State of Minnesota which allowed me to turn that listening inward — to my own backyard and to some of the places I love most: Minnesota’s state parks.
During the grant year, I created a series of four seasonal audio narratives, each rooted in sustained immersion rather than chance encounter. By choosing specific park locations and spending unhurried time within them, my practice shifted from observation to deep listening. Slowing down allowed each landscape to speak for itself—to reveal not only what it sounded like, but how it wanted to be heard.
It is my great pleasure to invite you into this aural journey through the seasons in my series, “Art of the State (Parks)”
What does late-winter snow sound like underfoot? listen How does solitude feel when your only companion is a loon’s mournful call? listen Can you sense the cool smoothness of Sioux quartzite in your hand listen or the mist of a waterfall on your face? listen
As a professional flutist and classical radio host, I’ve held a lifelong fascination with how we perceive the world through sound. For the past 17 years, I’ve honed my audio narrative craft through the Blissful Hiker™ podcast, taking you with me onto trails across six continents.
These “essays-in-sound” blend personal reflections with vivid field recordings and evoke place with the immediacy and intimacy of a picture book read aloud.
I was honored to receive an individual artist grant from the State of Minnesota which allowed me to turn that listening inward — to my own backyard and to some of the places I love most: Minnesota’s state parks.
During the grant year, I created a series of four seasonal audio narratives, each rooted in sustained immersion rather than chance encounter.
By choosing specific park locations and spending unhurried time within them, my practice shifted from observation to deep listening.
Slowing down allowed each landscape to speak for itself—to reveal not only what it sounded like, but how it wanted to be heard.
It is my great pleasure to invite you into this aural journey through the seasons in my series, “Art of the State (Parks)”
SPRING
In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
A solitary May night at Lake Itasca State Park unfolds amid the sounds and scents of spring on Floating Bog Bay. Camping alone in the lingering chill of a northern May evening on Floating Bog Bay brings rare solitude and heightened awareness.
A beaver slaps a warning slap, a heron is poised in stillness, warblers and frogs fill the air, and the quiet intimacy of sleeping close to the cold, damp earth reminds me that I am the visitor in a living, resilient landscape.
Nearly lost to logging, Lake Itasca was preserved in 1891 by a single legislative vote, allowing the Mississippi’s headwaters and the wild chorus surrounding them to endure. As night falls under a crescent moon, I realize Spring returns here not by accident but by choice. Wilderness is never guaranteed, only preserved because someone once chose to say yes.
SPRING
In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
A solitary May night at Lake Itasca State Park unfolds amid the sounds and scents of spring on Floating Bog Bay. Camping alone in the lingering chill of a northern May evening on Floating Bog Bay brings rare solitude and heightened awareness.
A beaver slaps a warning slap, a heron is poised in stillness, warblers and frogs fill the air, and the quiet intimacy of sleeping close to the cold, damp earth reminds me that I am the visitor in a living, resilient landscape.
Nearly lost to logging, Lake Itasca was preserved in 1891 by a single legislative vote, allowing the Mississippi’s headwaters and the wild chorus surrounding them to endure.
As night falls under a crescent moon, I realize Spring returns here not by accident but by choice. Wilderness is never guaranteed, only preserved because someone once chose to say yes.
Crossing the headwaters of the Mississippi River at Lake Itasca State Park, Minnesota.
SUMMER
“Portage” means carrying a boat and its cargo between navigable waters. But moving from one lake to the next required hauling everything, canoes included...
It’s a hot summer day along Minnesota’s North Shore where powerful waterfalls define the landscape. Just a stone’s throw from the Canadian border is Grand Portage State Park, home to Minnesota’s highest falls.
These falls plunge 120 feet over billion-year-old basalt cliffs on a mad rush towards Lake Superior, a vivid demonstration of why this place came to be known as the “great carrying place.” Although easily accessed today by a paved trail and boardwalk, indigenous travelers and voyageurs were forced to portage nearly nine miles to avoid the impassable waters.
It’s an awe-inspiring destination of mist and rainbows, but the land commands respect, shaping history and continuing to set the terms for those who choose to pass through it.
SUMMER
“Portage” means carrying a boat and its cargo between navigable waters. But moving from one lake to the next required hauling everything, canoes included...
It’s a hot summer day along Minnesota’s North Shore where powerful waterfalls define the landscape. Just a stone’s throw from the Canadian border is Grand Portage State Park, home to Minnesota’s highest falls.
These falls plunge 120 feet over billion-year-old basalt cliffs on a mad rush towards Lake Superior, a vivid demonstration of why this place came to be known as the “great carrying place.” Although easily accessed today by a paved trail and boardwalk, indigenous travelers and voyageurs were forced to portage nearly nine miles to avoid the impassable waters.
It’s an awe-inspiring destination of mist and rainbows, but the land commands respect, shaping history and continuing to set the terms for those who choose to pass through it.
Above Middle Falls on the Pigeon River at Grand Portage State Park.
FALL
Fall is audacious, even if it marks an ending, a last celebration as everything prepares for the long winter. And the Sioux quartzite escarpment that makes up Blue Mounds, bears witness.
Crisp fall air and brittle prairie grasses set the scene at Blue Mounds State Park, where prickly pear cactus and fading bluestem share space with migrating birds. An indigo bunting flashes briefly against the muted landscape, a reminder that life here is seasonal, resilient, and always in motion.
Rising from the grassland is the park’s namesake escarpment, a mile-long wall of ancient Sioux quartzite, nearly a billion years old. From a distance, early settlers saw the rock as blue, but up close, it’s a striking pink, solid and climbable.
Climbing ropes, historic WPA structures, roaming bison, and a mysterious stone wall connect past and present in this unlikely prairie stronghold. As coyotes call at dusk and a rare bird sings a fleeting farewell, the Blue Mounds stand watch, enduring, patient, and unchanged as fall blazes briefly before winter returns.
FALL
Fall is audacious, even if it marks an ending, a last celebration as everything prepares for the long winter. And the Sioux quartzite escarpment that makes up Blue Mounds, bears witness.
Crisp fall air and brittle prairie grasses set the scene at Blue Mounds State Park, where prickly pear cactus and fading bluestem share space with migrating birds. An indigo bunting flashes briefly against the muted landscape, a reminder that life here is seasonal, resilient, and always in motion.
Rising from the grassland is the park’s namesake escarpment, a mile-long wall of ancient Sioux quartzite, nearly a billion years old. From a distance, early settlers saw the rock as blue, but up close, it’s a striking pink, solid and climbable.
Climbing ropes, historic WPA structures, roaming bison, and a mysterious stone wall connect past and present in this unlikely prairie stronghold. As coyotes call at dusk and a rare bird sings a fleeting farewell, the Blue Mounds stand watch, enduring, patient, and unchanged as fall blazes briefly before winter returns.
WINTER
It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
One late February day at Lake Maria State Park is a slippery in-between. Melting snow turns the trail to mush, making a pulk useless through southern Minnesota’s last remnants of the Big Woods, where backpack-in camps and quiet trails make the park feel far more remote than the map suggests.
Sun, sleet, and shadow trade places on glacial hills shaped by retreating ice. Hawks scold, woodpeckers shriek, and winter quietly gives ground to mud, streams, and the smell of thawing earth. It’s never quite clear which season is in charge.
At dusk, the sky burns purple and red at a log camper cabin. A fire catches in the stove, and though winter is loosening its grip, the comfort of warmth feels especially good on a winter night in Minnesota.
WINTER
It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
One late February day at Lake Maria State Park is a slippery in-between. Melting snow turns the trail to mush, making a pulk useless through southern Minnesota’s last remnants of the Big Woods, where backpack-in camps and quiet trails make the park feel far more remote than the map suggests.
Sun, sleet, and shadow trade places on glacial hills shaped by retreating ice. Hawks scold, woodpeckers shriek, and winter quietly gives ground to mud, streams, and the smell of thawing earth. It’s never quite clear which season is in charge.
At dusk, the sky burns purple and red at a log camper cabin. A fire catches in the stove, and though winter is loosening its grip, the comfort of warmth feels especially good on a winter night in Minnesota.
It's a sloppy in-between on a late winter hike at Lake Maria State Park.
Public Events
LIVE interview on WTIP Radio
Tuesday, January 13, 9:20 AM
📻 LISTEN WTIP, North Shore Community Radio
Listen to an interview with Julie Carlson on WTIP, North Shore Community Radio in Grand Marais. Alison will talk about how she came to discover hiking and connect her years as a musician, classical music radio host and the outdoors.
Listen to an interview with Kelly Cordes on WJON, Saint Cloud News Radio. Alison will talk about how she came to discover hiking and connect her years as a musician, classical music radio host and the outdoors.
Hear the parks come alive:
Audio Narratives with Alison Young
Wednesday, January 28, 7 PM
Saint Cloud Public Library
free and open to the public
Join Minnesota State Arts Grant recipient Alison Young for an immersive evening of sound and storytelling. Hear her new audio narratives, crafted from field recordings and personal essays, during her residency in four Minnesota State Parks and get a behind-the-scenes look at how she captures the voice of the natural world.
Hear the parks come alive:
Audio Narratives with Alison Young
Saturday, January 31, 5 PM
Tettegouche State Park
free and open to the public
Join Minnesota State Arts Grant recipient Alison Young for an immersive evening of sound and storytelling. Hear her new audio narratives, crafted from field recordings and personal essays, during her residency in four Minnesota State Parks and get a behind-the-scenes look at how she captures the voice of the natural world.
Alison Young
As an audio storyteller, Alison “Blissful Hiker” Young combines personal essay with found sound.
With over 14,000 miles logged as a backpacker on six continents and a background as an award winning professional musician and syndicated radio host, her artistic practice reflects an enduring curiosity in how we perceive the world aurally.
Her art form of “Audio Narratives” captures a time and place in sound. Through carefully chosen words, impeccable vocal inflection plus the precise placement of clips from the natural world, these essays-in-sound spark the imagination, causing listeners to fill in visual gaps and create their own unique experiences. You might describe an audio narrative’s impact like “a picture book read aloud.”
Alison Young’s audio narratives are heard widely on the award-winning Blissful Hiker™ podcast, which has received over 125,000 downloads.
Alison young
Alison Young is an audio storyteller, combining personal essay with found sound.
With over 14,000 miles logged as a backpacker on six continents and a background as an award winning professional musician and syndicated radio host, her artistic practice reflects an enduring curiosity in how we perceive the world aurally.
Her art form of “Audio Narratives” captures a time and place in sound. Through carefully chosen words, impeccable vocal inflection plus the precise placement of clips from the natural world, these essays-in-sound spark the imagination, causing listeners to fill in visual gaps and create their own unique experiences.
You might describe an audio narrative’s impact like “a picture book read aloud.”
Alison Young’s audio narratives are heard widely on the Blissful Hiker™ podcast, which has received over 125,000 downloads.
Alison Young
As an audio storyteller, Alison “Blissful Hiker” Young combines personal essay with found sound.
With over 14,000 miles logged as a backpacker on six continents and a background as an award winning professional musician and syndicated radio host, her artistic practice reflects an enduring curiosity in how we perceive the world aurally.
Her art form of “Audio Narratives” captures a time and place in sound. Through carefully chosen words, impeccable vocal inflection plus the precise placement of clips from the natural world, these essays-in-sound spark the imagination, causing listeners to fill in visual gaps and create their own unique experiences. You might describe an audio narrative’s impact like “a picture book read aloud.”
Alison Young’s audio narratives are heard widely on the Blissful Hiker™ podcast, which has received over 125,000 downloads.
Alison Young is a fiscal year 2025 recipient of a Creative Individuals grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board. This activity is made possible by the voters of Minnesota through a grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board, thanks to a legislative appropriation by the Minnesota State Legislature; and by a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts.