“400” State Trail, Slight Return

"It was one of those perfect autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life." - P. D. James

I stoked up for the day’s journey with my favorite small-town-diner breakfast of wheat toast, bacon and hash browns at my favorite small-town diner, Greenwood’s Café in Reedsburg, Wisconsin, on Oct. 9, 2010.

Parked the car down the street at the old train depot, scene of an 1874 protest by the townspeople that prevented the deportation of a well-known and respected Native American, A-Ha-Cho-Ka, and his extended family. Reedsburgians like to think this “helped convince the U.S. government to abandon its inhuman policy of Indian relocation.” Perhaps they’re right.

The depot is a small museum and also the southern terminus of the “400” State Trail, so named for a Chicago & Northwestern train that operated until 1963. It took passengers the 400 miles from Chicago to Minneapolis in 400 minutes, which is actually a pretty good clip, especially for a steam loco. The “400” State Trail — always in quotes — runs for 22 miles between Reedsburg and the town of Elroy. Of course, that town’s name put the damn “Jetsons” cartoon theme song on constant-replay in my head all day … Meet George Jetson … His boy Elroy …

Hanna-Barbera always seemed to put more effort into their theme songs than their actual cartoons.

It was a glorious mid-October morning. Bright sunshine in a bright, high blue sky, with a very light breeze from the south.

Trees were just reaching peak color: the trail follows the Baraboo River valley, giving the maples, aspens and oaks a chance to display their colors along the hillsides.

The trail itself is packed limestone screenings in very good condition for most of the route. For long stretches, it’s packed down so hard it’s almost like pavement. The route is the usual rails-to-trails straight-and-level, and it crosses the meandering Baraboo River what seems like 20 times. Most of the wood-planked bridges are set between the riveted steel plates of the old railroad bridges. The bridge decks are a little chewed up from snowmobiles; apparently the trail sees heavy use in the winter (Speed limit for snowmobiles is 55 mph — at night? Really?)

Seven miles into the ride, I arrived in the familiar town of La Valle, the closest town to our cabin. There’s a water fountain and flush toilet for trail users, with signboards providing the history of the namesake rail line. There are a couple of good restaurants in town: River Mill, a very roomy, comfortable sit-down family restaurant and bar, and Trail Break, a fast-food/pizza place.

I had ridden the La Valle-to-Reedsburg stretch of the trail before, but now I was in Terra incognita. The trail soon led through a deep, shaded cut in the rolling sandstone hills; coming out the other side, fall colors exploded like fireworks under the bright sunlight. Canada geese massed in cutoff ponds on either side of the trail, awaiting whatever mysterious signal sends them south. It was so absurdly beautiful I laughed out loud. The miles flew past as I eagerly absorbed the views.

Soon I was in Wonewoc, searching for a fountain Diet Coke. None to be had. A longer stretch now, each mile more breathtaking than the last. I found a Kwik Trip gas station at Union Center, bought my fountain Coke and an apple and took a break in their trailside park. A great place to stop: clean flush toilet, water fountain and comfy benches. The one I rested on was a 1996 class project by a student named Brian, according to the plaque. Well done, Brian!

Just a few more miles brought me to the end of the “400” in Elroy. Daughter Judy … Jane, his wife …

The old train depot in Elroy (don’t start, brain) has been converted to a museum and Gift Shoppe where you can buy trail souvenirs and ice cream or rent a bike. I hadn’t been aware of it, but the “400” segues directly into the Elroy-Sparta State Trail, 32 miles of limestone famous for its trio of tunnels. But that’s another blog post.

After a short look around, I pointed Discovery 7 south and started back. The southerly breeze had kicked up a bit, to maybe 10 mph. Not a big deal on a relatively short ride of 22 miles, I thought.

I was wrong. The breeze and the limestone — as hard-packed as it is, it’s still not concrete — added up. My legs were complaining by the time I got to Wonewoc. I was getting seriously hungry, too. I had resolved to try the Trail Break restaurant in La Valle, based on my having noticed the words “cold beer” painted along its roof line on the way out in the morning, along with “pizza,” “burgers” and “salads.” But La Valle seemed a thousand miles away.

Finally, blessedly, I was ordering a Coors Light and a burger at the Trail Break. Both were delicious. The beer was cold, as advertised on the roof, and the burger was a generous, hand-formed patty cooked just right. The staff was friendly and attentive. Recommended.

Somewhat rejuvenated, I chugged the last stretch to the Reedsburg depot. Total for the day was 46.4 glorious, wonderful miles.

I spent the late afternoon fishing: I caught and released exactly one nice bluegill. I wasn’t trying very hard. I was very tired, I had cold beer in the boat with me, the water sparkled in the sunlight, and this late in the season I had the lake pretty much all to myself. It was more of a boat ride than a fishing trip.

Started feeling kind of nauseated and a bit shaky in the evening — in retrospect, I was probably dehydrated. I’m sure the beer (both at the Trail Break and two while fishing) didn’t help.

Next time, I’ll drive to … that town at the end of the “400” … and try the trail with all the tunnels on it, and remember to drink more water than I think I need to.

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"400" State Trail, Wisconsin

Recently took a ride on the "400" State Trail. (Every sign you see has the quote marks.) it's a 22-mile trail in the beautiful driftless area of SW Wisconsin. Left early on a Saturday morning from the town of LaValle, a town of about 500 some 20 miles west of the Wisconsin Dells.

The Corner Express Gas-Bait-Liquor Store in LaValle is
one place you can buy $4 daily permits for the
"400" State Trail. It's also THE place to be at 7 a.m.
Saturday morning. Inside, folks were playing
cards and drinking beer. I love Wisconsin.

The rails-to-trails conversion follows the route of the old Chicago and Northwestern route from Chicago to Minneapolis, which the trains traversed in 400 minutes. Pretty good time for steam locos.

Picture of the "400" bombing through LaValle 

in its heyday, from an informational signpost
in the center of town.

Trail is limestone screenings in good condition. Smooth and fairly hard despite the recent heavy rains. The particular morning I most recently rode it, the trail surface was damp; there was just enough moisture to make the trail grit stick to the tires for exactly one-third of a rotation, then fling itself into my hair with uncanny accuracy.

Looking back over my recent posts, I notice a tendency to wax poetic about flowers. I’m not usually a flower type of guy. But this year has been exceptional, most likely because of the regular rainfall and damnit, I’m secure enough in my masculinity to say I’m enjoying the pretty pretty flower show very much. This ride was no exception. The trail was just lined with flowers of every color and shape -- including a few types I’d never seen before. Breathtaking.

The Baraboo River makes several appearances  as you ride southeast. The muddy water carries a fair current as it meanders through forest and farmland.

Nearing the town of Reedsburg, a good Samaritan homeowner placed a  large jug of cool water and paper cups along the trail, with a note urging thirsty trail users to help themselves. There was a small bench to rest on and a flower bed. Small-town America in a nutshell. I drank two cups full, and left a thank-you note. From here on in, if anyone asks what America means to me, I’ll talk about the person who gives thirsty trail riders a drink of cool water and a shady bench to rest on.

In Reedsburg, I stopped for breakfast at Greenwood’s Café, a breakfast-and-lunch hole in the wall that is my favorite restaurant in the whole wide world -- I can say that with some authority because I’ve been to restaurants all over the world.

I sat at the counter and read the Reedsburg Independent newspaper over wheat toast, bacon and hash browns while a pretty waitress kept up an endless stream of fountain Diet Coke. Bliss.

 

All too soon came the last bite of hash browns and the $6 bill. A quick 7.5 miles back to the car and the fun part of the day was over. Time for the chores that are part and parcel of owning a cabin in Wisconsin. 

Detail from a mural on the side of the
Lakeside Foods plant in Reedsburg.

Commuting

I've been averaging about two bicycle commutes per week. It's about a 25-mile round trip. The route goes through suburban backstreets and into the Greene Valley Forest Preserve on the tree-lined 79th Street. The first half of the ride goes over a ridge between the two branches of the DuPage River. This is the view uphill going north (toward home) on 79th.

The route cuts through the forest preserve for about a half-mile on a limestone trail. The spring has been wet and warm -- the wildflowers have been loving it. Every week seems to bring a new mix of flowers along the trail.

Yes, there's a 150-foot hill. It's actually a huge pile of trash covered with dirt and grass.

I'm really enjoying the bicycle commute. Just wish it would stop raining so I could do it more often.

Loveland Trail, slight reprise

Hit the Loveland Trail again during a recent visit to the Cincinnati area. It's as excellent as I remember [See my previous post]. Went east from the Train Stop Inn, a mile or two from the King's Island Theme Park (excellent roller coasters, I'm told by those in the know). My son accompanied me for the ride on a real sauna of a day: about 90 degrees and 80 percent humidity.

The trail is a delight to ride. Smooth, level asphalt. Peeks at the Little Miami River, small creeks tumbling down the hillside.
Lots of wildlife. Not five seconds after Steven wondered aloud if we'd see any deer — there they were alongside the trail: two does and a spike buck. We also saw muskrats and a woodchuck, along with dozens of cardinals, goldfinches and other birds we couldn't identify.

We rode as far as the town of Morrow, where we stopped for ice cream at Miranda's, a nice little shoppe in what used to be a bank; you can peer into the small vault in the side room. I usually dislike air conditioning in any form, but it was welcome as we cooled down with butter pecan (Steven) and chocolate soft-serve in a cup (me).


 The ride back was uneventful and very pleasant. At the finish, we cooled off with a beer at the Train Stop Inn. It's great to be able to knock one back with your son. Total was about 20 very humid miles.
The next day, hit the trail again solo for a quick 10 miles going the other way. There was a fun little festival in the town of Loveland, where a band shouted its way through "Land of 10,000 Dances." The driving beat echoed along the hillsides and soon I was keeping time with the crank. Fun stuff.



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Great Western Trail

Sunday, May 30, promised to be a warm, humid day with a strong south breeze. Luckily my plans were to ride the western section of the Great Western Trail from Leroy Oaks Park, St. Charles, to Sycamore and back -- all east-west, so the wind wouldn't be a factor.

The path is mostly the familiar rails-to-trails limestone. About five miles is asphalt-paved, starting from the town of Wasco. (You wascolly wabbit! Sorry.)

Most of the path is in such great condition it might as well be paved: very well tramped down and smooth. There was lots of bike and jogger traffic until past the paved bit, when it suddenly got very rural and isolated. Myriads of flowers along both sides: purple, white, red. Trail is fanatically straight and level: you can see the white limestone ahead of you for what seems like miles, all the way to the vanishing point.

The trail parallels Route 64 (North Avenue), so it can be a bit noisy, especially on a Memorial Day weekend when it seemed like every motorcycle in the state was heading west.

Between the "town" of Virgil (epicenter of the great Illinois quake of '10, magnitude 3.8) and Sycamore, the trail turns into an ATV track for a mile or two. Not an impediment, but you can tell you're not in suburbia anymore. A couple of short quarter-mile stretches of could be better-maintained.

Arrived in Sycamore very thirsty and hungry. After a stop at a gas station for a couple of bottles of water, I had lunch at the Dairy Dogs. Make sure you specify no ketchup on your "Chicago style" hot dog.  (The stand was operated by a couple of 16-year-old girls who didn't know any better. Otherwise I'd have thrown a shit-fit. Ketchup on a hot dog. Jebus.) Otherwise, the Dave Berg dog was just OK, nothing to write home about.

I must be getting good at this: I covered 37 miles in 3 hours and 8 minutes, arriving at the car a sweaty and ready for a rest, but otherwise OK. This after a 20-mile ride the previous day!

Wish I had some pix but somehow I deleted them off the camera. Just imagine the Prairie Path, only straighter and flatter, with farmland on either side carpeted with three-inch emergent corn sprouts.

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Benedictine University and Green Trails

About a 20-mile ride through the neighborhood this morning. Went to visit my grandmother at Villa St. Benedict, then stopped for breakfast at the Big Apple Pancake House: A Sun-Times, two eggs scrambled to death – dry! – wheat toast and bacon. After my five or 10 thousand years in purgatory, I’ll ascend to heaven where it will be a bright, sunny spring morning much like today's, and that will be my breakfast order.

The weather is just … perfect … one day each year. I think today was that day. Brilliant sunshine, not a cloud in the sky, light east wind (unusual direction), about 85 degrees F. I was in full Mr. Pither mode coming home from Villa St. Benedict: bicycling in a state of oblivious happiness.

Decided to explore the grounds of nearby Benedictine University. I’d passed by the campus a hundred times, and have attended a bunch of DuPage Dragons baseball games at the stadium, but I’d never actually poked around on the campus.

Notable discoveries:

• There is a pretty little 10- or 15-acre lake. Panfish scattered away from the shoreline as I approached. Oh, yes, I'll be back with a fishing rod.
  
• A beautiful shrine to the Virgin Mary, and a short mulched trail with the stations of the cross.
  
• A well-kept cemetery on the western section of the campus includes the final resting place of Abbot Procopius Neuzil, whose most excellent name I could just say over and over. Procopius Neuzil. Procopius Neuzil.

As I admired the cemetery, I kept hearing a strange, stacatto series of musical notes. I followed the sound to its source: the Rosemont Cavaliers marching band xylophone players were practicing nearby, working on the timing of a particular short riff.

Heading south from Benedictine toward home, I decided to explore the Green Trails network of asphalt bicycle/walking trails. What a gem! Twenty-five miles of smooth asphalt trails wind through residential neighborhoods, along backyards and around small lakes, parks, grassy open areas and small wooded sections.

This is not a good speed-training track, though. Lots of kids on tricycles, joggers, mommies with strollers and blind corners. Take your time and enjoy the intense suburban-ness of it all.

Travels with Fred

Biked to work again today, accompanied by Fred, my friend and neighbor. Fred's a *real* bicyclist, and I hope I didn't hold him back too much.

He pushed me just a little bit — the way he attacks a hill is something to see, especially considering he's got 15 years on me. We covered the 12.5 miles to Argonne in 61 minutes. A little better than last week, but I'd like to trim that down to 50 minutes.

It was already in the low-70s and very humid when we left at 6:30 a.m. This afternoon's ride home should be a real pleasure for this warm-weather fan.

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