Pages From the Road Journal of Everyman's Adventure
Page 2: Four Trails Route, Western Wisconsin
A serious cyclist is one who lives for the ride - one who believes time off the bike should be spent eating, sleeping and otherwise preparing for the next leg. A tourist, on the other hand, is one who wants to explore over the horizon, to see new things, and who thinks, for various reasons, that a bike is a pretty good choice of vehicle to do it on. I admit to being the latter, and it was the larger view, rather than the time in the saddle, which made this trip worth writing about.
Day One: Monday, July 12, 2010
It had been a simple trip (except for the miserable grind through Chicago). We picked up I-90 out our back door and stayed on it for about eight hours until exit 89 in Wisconsin, about an hour past Madison. From there it was a short and pleasant drive to Reedsburg, the trail head to our summer's first biking expedition. My wife Pam and I had spent the first night at the Quality Inn on Main Street, which was a pleasant surprise, particularly the very good free breakfast buffet (featuring scrambled eggs, sausage and DIY waffles). This was to be a credit card camping adventure, a little more civilized, and such things were important in this context. Now our car was stowed, our loads were pared down to minimum and we were on our bikes pointed west
      It was about two miles from the motel to the trail head of the 400 Trail, the 22-mile first leg of a series of four connected trails which would take us about one hundred miles west to the Minnesota border. We needed to buy passes for the trail ($4 per day each), but the offices at the trail head were closed. We discovered that almost all official facilities on the trail were closed, perhaps due to the state's financial condition. A sign directed us to an ice cream shop a couple of blocks away, where we bought passes, then hit the trail.
      One intriguing aspect of the rail-trails (some may disagree) is that they pass literally through the back yards of the people who live in these communities, and small town life is on open display. As we made our way out of town, most often our greeting was a friendly wave, but we also encountered indifferent stares and the occasional wrath of a backyard dog.
      From the town center, we passed straight as an arrow through croplands (mostly corn and beans), which yielded slowly to fens, marshes and open fields. There were ponds, sluggish creeks and small lakes, as well, but these usually were covered with a bright green algal growth, possibly a result of fertilizers washed from the many area farms. Small trees, weeds and bushes lined the trail, often tall enough to provide welcome shade from a baking sun which drove temperatures into the nineties and high eighties for the entire trip. Wildflowers were in abundance.
      The trail surface varied from packed dirt to a thin layer crushed stone (mostly around the towns). The tires on my RANS Stratus XP were 1.6" x 26" Marathon Supremes, which worked well, and Pam's Tailwind was equipped with 1.5" x 20" knobby Primo V-Monsters, which were excellent for the conditions. Thin road tires would not be a happy choice for this trail, particularly in wet weather.
      The first community we encountered was LaValle, little more than a crossroads, but pleasant, with antique shops and a nice art gallery. The small towns we discovered were to be the story of this trip; the trail, aside from the Elroy-Sparta leg, was ordinary, at best. But the towns were captivating, usually sporting one or two blocks of rural 1950's "main street" - well-kept shops and institutional buildings, many of which were architecturally very interesting. Offerings included many variations on the general store and specialty shops like coffee houses and hardware stores. Bike shops were plentiful, though basic. Many of the towns had turned their old railroad depots into attractive businesses, like the Treasure Mill antique store in LaValle. Missing, for the most part, were chain stores, franchises and big box stores. As we made our way up the trail, we resolved to take time to turn off into these quaint little communities, at least to bike the block or two of their "downtown," searching for bits of nostalgia, architectural surprises and ice cream.
      Locals had spoken of the abundant wildlife along the 400, but we saw only squirrels and rabbits.
      We also investigated Wonewoc and Union Center on this leg, mentally noting a bakery and coffee shop with potential. We had planned to eat lunch at Elroy, the western terminus of the 400 Trail, but met with our only disappointment of the trip. Let me say here that rural Wisconsin is not vegetarian heaven. This is meat-eating country and the bar food center of the U.S., where macaroni and cheese is considered a vegetable. We quickly dialed down our culinary expectations. Unfortunately, the large ice cream shop/deli at trailside in downtown Elroy was out of business (as, sadly, were many of the businesses we passed), leaving JJ's Bar and The Sportsman's Bar & Grill as our remaining choices for lunch: bar food, fried bar food or deep fried bar food. We chose Sportsman's, since it was cooler inside, and picked the least meaty item on the menu: fried shrimp. Which came with french fries, of course. And, because I have a friend who raved about the cheese curds he had in Wisconsin, we wanted to try them, as well; somehow it did not surprise me when they came deep fried. Ultimately, I was really not able to distinguish between the shrimp and the curds - they were the same size and both tasted like deep fried breading. It was cheap, though.
      Evidence of the hazards of this kind of diet lay (or sat) all about us: all of the dozen or so adults crowded around the large bar for lunch punched in at better than 200 pounds. All of the men, I believe, topped 250. There was a continuous stream of walk-ins to pick up large sacks of take-out orders.
      We waddled back to our bikes and looked for the next section of the trail. After a small zigzag and a short trip on surface streets, we were heading up what is regarded as the crown jewel of the 4 Trails: the 32-mile Elroy-Sparta leg. Unlike the other three flat legs, Elroy-Sparta had significant elevation change. The grade was noticeable, and we worked up a sweat, but it wasn't challenging or even particularly uncomfortable. As the ground rose, the scrub trees gave way to taller, more typical northern forest trees, such as maples and birches. The view disappeared, but the nearly continuous leafy canopy overhead created pleasant tunnels of less-hot air. Despite this, Pam was overheating as we neared the top of the first hill, and dunked her head under a mini-waterfall outside the first tunnel.
     Elroy-Sparta features three hills, each topped by a tunnel carved out of the mountain rock, and today they provided a merciful respite from the heat. A sign at the entrance of the first tunnel advised us to turn our lights on and walk our bikes. Naturally, I ignored this advice and immediately pedaled confidently into the tunnel. After all, I could see the other end - how bad could it be? Five seconds into the tunnel I dismounted and turned on my light. Although the tunnel is about twenty feet wide, the floor curves down on both sides to a drop off which is sometimes two or three feet deep. Apparently, when the tracks were covered with concrete to form the trail floor, the concrete was poured onto the center of the tracks, and the material flowed out, away from the center and down to the sides. The result is rather like riding lengthwise on the top of a rough pipe. In addition, the darkness of the tunnel makes keeping your balance a problem. Nevertheless, two testosterone-spiked teenage boys went flying past us into the tunnel at full speed, yelling and brandishing eight foot branches they had picked up along the way. I presume this was either to ward off the walls if they got too close or to swat unsuspecting pedestrians coming the other way.
     By the third tunnel, the novelty was wearing off. On top of that, we were surprised to find a cold rain falling on us for the entire length. The first two tunnels had been about a thousand feet, but this one was almost 4000 feet long. I was later to discover that there were natural springs in the rock above the final tunnel which caused the rainfall throughout the year. In the winter, the water freezes on the ground and makes the tunnel impassable. On the bright side, Pam was cooler and feeling much stronger by the time we started back downhill (the long coast may also have had an effect).
     We passed more bikers on this stretch than the first leg, probably because Elroy-Sparta is the most highly regarded leg and possibly because there was a campground near the last tunnel which enabled riders to reach the tunnels without riding the entire length of the trail. Between the tunnels we discovered the pleasant towns of Kendall, Wilton and Norwalk, where we uncovered alternative dining opportunities for the trip back.
     We finally pedaled into the town of Sparta, self-described as the "bicycle capital of the world." We missed the turn for the shortest trip to the Best Western, our stop for the night, but found an alternative two mile route. Fortunately, there was a restaurant in the motel, because neither us us felt like showering, then riding back to town for dinner and riding back. Yes, you guessed it: bar food. A veggie pizza was the only meatless selection, and, actually, pretty good.
Day Two: Tuesday, July 13, 2010
The free breakfast buffet was uninspiring, but calories are calories. Filled with the worst DIY waffle I have ever had, I headed back up Wisconsin Street with Pam to catch the 22-mile La Crosse River Trail. This leg was flat and open, with absolutely no view of the La Crosse River and little shade from the sun. About halfway we passed through Bangor, which was very pleasant and much larger than most of the other towns on the trail. We paused for a minute to watch a baseball game (Little League?) on a beautifully landscaped ball field below the trail. West Salem, the next stop, was tidy and inviting, with a surprising number of town parks to rest or picnic in. There was also a nice looking restaurant, The Bistro, and an ice cream shop which we noted for a possible stop on the trip back. As we neared La Crosse, we finally saw a bit of the river.
      We had expected to have lunch in La Crosse, and, once again, we were foiled. La Crosse was about four miles south of the trail head, and we didn't want an eight mile detour on busy surface streets. At Onalaska we found the connector to the Great River Trail, a 25-mile leg with a finish which was a bit unclear on the maps. The trail quickly rose to street level in Onalaska and continued on city streets for a few hundred feet. We decided to take the main city street north to forage for food, and found pay dirt with a very good Mexican restaurant, Margarita. After lunch we picked up the trail again, which headed west off the main drag and through what seemed to be alleys for several blocks. It finally started looking like trail again, and we were rewarded with a great but brief vista of Lake Onalaska and the Mississippi River. It would be our last river view until Trempealeau.
      The Great River Trail wound through mostly marshland, including Perrot State Park, and the bugs (mosquitoes, small flies and deer flies), which had been a minor irritation to this point, became a serious nuisance. The trail was thickly lined with huge weeds and scrub trees which reached aggressively into the trail, as though threatening to snatch a careless rider wandering too near the edge (did I mention that the park is home to carnivorous plants?).
      The first town we passed through was our halfway point, Trempealeau, where we turned off to check out the local color. We discovered a small but very attractive town center, with interesting architecture and a very cool inn/restaurant with salmon on the menu. However, most of the buildings were closed and for sale or rent. Curiously, the town seemed to be deserted - no one seemed to be in any of the businesses and there were no people coming and going as you would expect to see in a busy community. This was something we encountered repeatedly on our trip, and seems to reflect the condition of small towns across America. Some towns are just hanging on, and we found the "old timers" still clustered around their favorite table in the one remaining restaurant, still talking about the good old days and wondering about the fate of their community. Others are fading out, victims of the changing economy and resulting population patterns. We found lots of evidence of the "food desert," a phenomenon in which the falling population in chains of small communities drives grocery stores out of business, leaving large geographic areas without a food supply (further driving population away). Grocery stores in most of the towns we visited were closed permanently. All that remains are a few Kwik Stop franchises at local gas stations providing a limited selection of packaged goods.
      Some communities, however, are trying to reinvent themselves to take advantage of new conditions. At the brand new Center Street Coffee Treats coffee shop in Wonewoc, the proprietor described the efforts he and other Center Street businesspeople were making to redevelop old buildings and create a tourist attraction for bikers on the trail, and the difficulties they were having with the zoning commission and the Parks Department in making changes. It's an uphill battle, he admitted, but he and his wife, both new Wonewoc residents, have committed their careers to building a new, thriving community.
      We finally found ice cream at the local coffee shop, and, refreshed, headed west on the trail again. As we passed through Perrot State Park, we found the water in the surrounding marshes severely fouled with oil. We noticed a faint odor of oil and we could see the oil sheen on the surface. The color of the water ranged from dark, muddy brown to a bright, translucent orange, and black, dead vegetation floated on the surface. Fortunately, we were through worst of the the pollution fairly quickly.
      Our map showed the trail ending at West Prairie Road, and we reached a spot that looked a lot like the map. But there was a sign pointing left indicating a continuation of the trail, and there was no road sign to confirm our location. Always up for adventure, we headed left and down a steep hill into what seemed to be called Marshland. A map on display at the bottom of the hill showed the trail continuation to Great River Road, so we headed out on a gravelly, hilly path. After four miles we were back at the display. After a flurry of hand waving, finger pointing and occasional references to questionable parentage, we cut our losses and headed back up the hill. The road turned out to indeed be West Prairie, so we were back on track. We finished the seven miles to the bridge at Winona, Minnesota, following Rt. 54, and five more miles to our motel, the Nichols Inn, which was very funky but acceptable lodging.
      We discovered Winona to be much larger and nicer than we had expected, with the definite flavor of a college town (two universities). Bike lanes were everywhere, as were bikers riding on them. Cars gave us respectful distance and right of way without moaning and pissing.
      Across the street was a nice looking restaurant, the Green Mill, which delivered a very good dinner (except for the salad, which even here was an unimportant afterthought). My wife liked the looks of Winona so much she decided to add a day to the trip to hang around town, and juggled reservations for an hour or so, including convincing our cat sitter to add a day to her scheduled visits. Unfortunately, the weather turned bad, with severe storms and tornados forecast for the next day. The extra day we had thrown in gave us a little breathing space - Pam had added the extra night at the cute inn she saw in Trempealeau, giving us only sixteen miles for the next day.
Day Three: Wednesday, July 14, 2009
We headed out early, catching breakfast at a forgettable diner. Thinking that the trails would be muddy if we got caught in the rain, we decided to take the roads today. We headed back across the bridge and out Rt. 54 east, with a pleasant tailwind and a huge ten or twelve foot berm. The riding was great, although the traffic was heavy and fast. At Center City we hung a right and rolled down to Trempealeau. We made good time, getting to the Trempealeau Hotel just before the showers started. Expecting the worst, we hung out in our very nice suite all day, reading, napping and watching the thunderheads roll by, but we got only scattered showers, missing the big stuff.
      We had both lunch and dinner at the hotel restaurant, which turned out to be terrific - we both had the salmon we saw on our earlier pass, and the salads (finally) were also superior. The restaurant was filled, mostly with senior citizens; there was another biking couple, but they blasted away on their RANS Screamer tandem before we could talk to them.
Day Four: Thursday, July 15, 2009
Bummer! The hotel restaurant wasn't open for breakfast. We had a quick and not very good snack at the coffee shop down the road. Not overly impressed with the Great River Trail, and thinking the paths would be muddy after all the rain, we decided to take to the roads again and took Rt. 35 east. However, Pam wanted to try back roads for a while, and we turned south onto County Road XX (that's right, XX). Although the berms were narrower, they were official bike lanes, and the surface was smooth. The rolling hills were a welcome change from the flat trail and, again, the riding was wonderful. All the rumors about great biking in Wisconsin are true!
      We soon emerged onto Rt. 35 again near Onalaska and ate a second breakfast at another forgettable but convenient diner. We wanted to take County Road B out of La Crosse (another back road), but soon found all the through roads south were restricted access. We had to thread our way on back streets through Onalaska and La Crosse (and go the wrong way on a bike path for a hundred yards) but we made it to B surprisingly quickly. Road B was another joyful roller coaster, and too soon we turned into West Salem, where we spotted the Bistro restaurant we had seen earlier. Unfortunately, we were back in bar food country. Our veggie wrap was so-so, although the fresh fruit hit the spot.
      On the way out of town we crossed the trail again. It didn't look wet, so we headed east on the LaCrosse leg for Sparta. At the Sparta depot we had planned a photo opp with the big bicyclist, but someone had taken it apart and loaded it on a cart! Our revised trip plans now had us staying in the Country Inn, which turned out to be pleasant enough and not too far from the trail. After showering, we bicycled into town for a look at the "bicycle capital of the world." It was clean and attractive, another small town gem, but at 6 pm everything was closed - the Bicycle and Space Museum, the town theater (permanently) and all the businesses. Sparta seemed to be growing enough to develop a newer outer ring of franchise restaurants, chain motels and businesses which attracted many residents out away from the old town center. Of course, there was no hint of small town in these amenities, and we were weren't tempted. It seemed to be a microcosmic example of suburban flight, and it left the old town center looking, well, rather old. We didn't even see that many bikes. We had dinner at a forgettable Italian restaurant and pedaled back to the motel.
Day Five: Friday, July 16, 2009
The breakfast buffet at the motel looked grim, but the restaurant next door was good and cheap.
      We mounted up and pedaled east again on the Elroy-Sparta Trail, a long slow rise to the big tunnel. The day was sunny and very hot again, but the forest canopy on this good leg kept us reasonably cool. Knowing what was to come, we donned our rain gear and covered our seats for the rainy walk in the dark. After hitting the second tunnel, we cruised through Norwalk and checked out Wilton for a lunch venue. We found what looked like a good restaurant (a passing local told us it was the best food around). Pam didn't want to eat yet, so we stopped just for lemonade.
      We passed through the last tunnel and stopped at Kendall for lunch. Unfortunately, Cindy's Bar featured more bar food, but it was better than Elroy, and we loaded calories.
      We connected through town to the 400 Trail for the last leg, and cooled off for a little while in the air conditioning of the bike shop at the Elroy depot. The trail itself was reasonably dry by this point, but the low land around us showed the effects of heavy rain. Big pools of dark water lay just off the trail, and the marshes looked more like bayou country, with the water often lapping at the edges of the trail. The wind and rain had broken up much of the green algae layer, but it had roiled the water, which was still dark and muddy. Happily, a few breezes still lurked in the wake of the storm. We turned off to cruise the main drag at Union City, then stopped off at Wonewoc for ice cream at Center Street Coffee Treats. The rest of the ride was pleasant but uneventful (still no sign of the advertised wildlife) and soon we found ourselves back in Reedsburg, this time at the Super 8 Motel. It was OK, but the Quality Inn was much nicer for the same price.
      We collected our car and drove into the small but very nice town center for dinner at a decent Italian restaurant. Our legs were beginning to stiffen up from the trip, and the idea of motoring around seemed a little less offensive than usual. After dinner we drove around town and stopped to watch a kids' baseball game.
      Back at the motel, we hit the sack and were out instantly. In our post-mortem the next morning we agreed that Wisconsin's roads offered some great riding - rolling hills, smooth roads, wide berms, bike lanes, light traffic, lovely small towns - and we began talking about our next trip to the cheese state.
     

© 2010 - 2012 Bob Beach