| Wisconsin
Bicycle Trails Bike Trails of Discovery and Adventure The Story of a Bicycle Trip Across the State of Wisconsin By James Hegyi Chapter 4 Riding the High Road |
Early the next
morning, a buck looks up at me as I slowly ride down from
the ridge-top campsite. A large empty parking lot leads
to a trail sign that will show the way to the Military
Ridge Trail. Not wanting to circle another "nature
loop," I study the sign carefully. A small bridge
leads across the dam between Cox Hollow and Twin Valley
lakes, then the trail heads into the woods again. It's
another great day; the sun shines down through the trees
as I make my way up and out of the park. A short cut
along a gravel road takes me to the Military Ridge State
Trail.
A wide panorama
of rolling farmland unfolds as I ride the high road. The
riding is easier now, my morning climb is over, and I dig
out my jacket against the chill. This trail is well
packed and worn crushed limestone. The riding does become
noisy at times; the trail runs close to highway 18/151
for most of it's length. There's a restaurant across the
road, and I run the bike between cars and trucks to get
there. I'm definitely on a main road now, the pancakes
are back to their normal size, the waitress and cook wear
uniforms and the interior of the restaurant is modern and
sterile.
A short ride brings me to the small town of Barneveld, and I stop at the memorial to the people that died in a night-time tornado a few years ago. The twister followed the bike path through a large part of the town, destroying everything in it's path. All of the homes are new along the path, all of the trees are small.
Again the trail becomes wooded, and I pass the intersecting trail that goes to Blue Mounds State Park. I'd like to take a side trip, but there's a long way to go to reach the campground that I'm headed for. The trail comes into the "back yard" of the town of Mount Horeb, and I spot a bike rack in the parking lot of a fast food restaurant. I wolf down as many calories as I can, then stiffly mount up and go.
My afternoon seems to be dominated by misadventures. There's road construction in the town of Verona. A minor nuisance for a motorist, it becomes an hour long headache for me. When I finally find my way out of the mess, I'm confronted by several motorists on the edge of town, trying to find a way in!
"Here's a guy on a bicycle - he must know where he's going!"
I'll bypass the city of Madison on this trip, so I head south around Fitchburg. Rather than taking the suggested route "A", I figure I can make up lost time by following route "D." This shortcut does not go as well as planned, with a few steep hills, and a map error that makes my route longer. It's with some relief that I finally find the enterance to Lake Kegonsa State Park. It's the off-season now, and I self-register for a campsite at the park enterance. A few hours later, after a welcome shower and another hobo meal, I'm sacked out and asleep.
I awake to the
sounds of traffic as the working world comes to life
around the park. My plan is to ride to the small town of
Cottage Grove for breakfast, then ride the entire
Glacial-Drumlin Trail back to Milwaukee. Within a few
minutes I'm away from the noise of the city.
Out in the farmland, there is work too, but the hours are longer, the pace is slower, and there is little noise that can travel all the way across the open fields. Tobacco is being harvested, and many farms have a small patch that now is being cut and loaded. The land opens as I near Cottage Grove, and the mist of the morning is gone. I can't seem to find a restaraunt here, and I pedal up and down the side streets searching. I have a packaged pastry in my bags, and decide that breakfast will have to wait until the next town.
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The Glacial Drumlin Trail runs all the way from Cottage Grove to Waukesha. A short ride through Waukesha puts the rider onto the New Berlin Recreation Trail, and that Trail leads into the City of Milwaukee. I've ridden this trail before, and now am pleased to see the sights that make this ride a pleasure. A herd of buffalo stops me and I watch as they slowly graze on this hot dry morning. I'm still hungry, so I ride into Lake Mills looking for somewhere to eat. I find the chamber of commerce, and am kindly directed a short distance down the main street to a small diner. Once again there's a friendly atmosphere, and I talk to the waitress about small town matters and my trip. I find that she's from California, that her father worked for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. There are thousands of interesting people that we must pass each day, but rarely do we ever talk to them. The lone traveler has an advantage here, it's easy to approach and talk to people when you have no companions.
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The afternoon sun beats down as I mount up
and ride out of Lake Mills. I've been pushing a little
too hard, and it's catching up to me. A few hours later,
completely worn out, I find a small park and stretch out
on the cool green grass. Closing my eyes, I drift,
listening to the small town sounds around me, feeling the
ground sway as though I were still in the saddle.
In some other place, or some other time, a man is exhausted. His day was filled with tension and worry. His work was hard, although it involved no physical effort. There was no excitement, no satisfaction, no discovery, no wonder. Now he sinks into his chair, and his mind drifts. He closes his eyes, listening to the air conditioner cycle on and off, listening to the evening news on the television. He is still strong. He is not yet old, and deep inside is the young cheerful boy he used to be. He tries to get up, but his exhausted mind lacks the will to move. Perhaps when he awakens, things will be better...
I rise, and sit next to the trail, watching the people come and go, watching the children at the water fountain, their expression as the cold clear water is savored, watching them gulp for air after drinking their fill. I throw my towel over the saddle to add a little comfort, and start riding home.
On a small wooden bridge I look up to see an older couple riding toward me. Our loaded bicycles immediately create a bond, and we stop to talk. Paul and his wife are teachers from Pennsylvania. They've passed on their knowledge and now are retired and happy, on a journey to discover Wisconsin. This is the first day of their month long trip and we talk of trails, towns and places to see.
Soon I'm decending the paved pathway that runs from Wales to Waukesha. Soon the alarm clock will sound, and I'll be back at work, discovering problems, exploring options... This trip will always be with me, though, and the meeting with Paul gives me hope for the future. Someday, if luck is with me, I too will be retired... and still old enough to ride a bicycle!