Day 39: Friday September 6th, 2019
Location: Most of the Connecting Route between the Portage Canal segment and the Sauk Point segment to the south and west.
14.4 miles of trail covered.
As opportunistic participants of the Ice Age Trail experience, our approach to covering the 1000+ miles is anything but linear. Lincoln county one day, Sauk County the next. Whatever seems the most logical at the time. Today we were faced with a trip to Madison, and so loaded up the bikes and drove two cars all the way down to the Portage, to the parking area on the south end of the Portage Canal Segment, just south of the Wisconsin River, intent on knocking out a few miles of connecting route to the west and south. We drove to our intended starting point, along the long, flat Levee Road at the parking area near Statz Road. Or so we thought. We really did think so. That comes into play later.
Just before we took off, Theresa noticed an old adversary, poison ivy. Only it wasn't the typical low, shrubby poison ivy we're used to seeing in Wisconsin. It was the huge, tree-killing kind of poison ivy that grows as thick as your wrist at the stem and can branch out 15 feet or more through the air. It was like discovering Africanized Honey Bees had made their way this far north. It was not a pleasant discovery. Until this point we had never seen it farther north than northern Illinois. Now the line was much closer to home, and we knew that anything south of here, or even close to the north, would entail a risk of encountering this horrible threat on steroids. It was good to know.
On our bikes, and off we ride. It was 2:10 pm and 74 degrees. Sunny and beautiful.
The roadway along Levee Road is paved and full of curves, with the Wisconsin River to the north and a ditch creek t the south, traversing East-West through the Pine Island State Natural Area. While not exactly scenic, it is a pleasant route, with an abundance of trees, occasional wildlife, and very few cars.
When you travel slowly along a roadway you notice things you don't see by car. You hear more birds. You're more likely to see or hear the sandhill cranes flying overhead. You see the frogs and grasshoppers on the roadway. You see the fawn hiding just off the road in the grass. You actually feel the sun as it hits your face, and smell the scent of different foliage and flowers. You also see the astonishing variety of animals that were laid waste on the road by passing cars, to become two-dimensional sad shadows of themselves left to vanish in the passing seasons. One thing in particular I remember seeing is the high water marks on the trees, showing clearly that the levee is not a fool-proof method of holding the Wisconsin River at bay. You would be well-served to check trail conditions before venturing here in extreme wet weather, as you could find your path is under 2-3 feet of water.
All too soon (really - all too soon), we rolled under I-90/94, then turned left onto Hwy 33 where our car was waiting about a quarter mile down the road. I have no idea what time it was. We were having a good day. It took us less than a half-hour, I'm sure of that.
We took a look at the maps and tried to decide how far to go next. 'This was really easy', we thought. 'How about we pick off a larger chunk this time?' Maybe 'we' isn't the right word. I don't know. I get ambitious sometimes and poor Theresa ends up dragged into things she would have done differently. This is one of those times.
I - read "I" - decided it would be a good idea to just take HWY 33 all the way over to where it intersected with County Road U, or maybe even all the way down to County Road X. It would be a little farther than our last ride, but not too bad.
"This is too far", Theresa said. "Are you sure we're in the right place?"
"Trust me," I said. I could read the map. I could tell where we were.
We ended up parking at the Historical Marker on Hwy 33 just across from the intersection with County Rd U. Then we headed north along U to finish the leg.
Let me start by saying this area is absolutely gorgeous, a lowland flat that was an obvious feature of an ancient river that flowed between the bluffs rising to the left and right, making everything smooth and level after hundreds or thousands of years. The riding was mostly easy, but there was a slight headwind, and we started noticing a distinct uphill trend. At first, it was small, short rises. Then they were more pronounced. The road curved. Surely, there would be a downhill part soon, right? Finally we stopped pedaling and walked for a bit. Then a bit farther. The road kept going up for what felt like a very long time. Finally, as we reached Hein Road, we could see that we were nearly there. Just a tiny bit further uphill and we would finally start our descent. We took a moment at the top of the hill to just breathe and enjoy the thick oak forest. "It gets easier from here", I said. Then we set our bikes in motion and enjoyed the fruits of our long climb, wind in our faces, racing downhill for a long, long... long time. More than half a mile of downhill. Seven tenths of a mile of downhill.
Something's wrong.
We should have passed under I-90/94 within a half mile. Stop the bikes.
"Did we miss a turn?" Theresa asks, as I look at the map.
"Yes", I sheepishly admit.
"How far back?" she says with some annoyance.
This wasn't going to be good. I knew the truth. It wasn't pleasant. "Just about at the top of that hill we just came down."
Only one thing saved me. We had an appointment to get to. We were now running late, and it was possible we would miss the appointment unless I hustled back to the car and came to pick her up.
"Go", she said. "Just, go."
I love my wife. She sent me on partly because she knew I had to get to the car, and partly because she was so angry she just needed to get away from me for a while. To her credit, she let me get nearly a tenth of a mile away before she started slinging the torrent of invective my way. I rode on.
It was a long way up that hill, and fairly steep in places. Turning north at Schepp Road where we should have turned seven tenths of a mile earlier, I quickly rode downhill and under the highway, to an unmarked intersection at Levee Road, turned right and kept hauling my saddle down the road. At this end of the road, Levee Road is nearly identical to the east end of the road. Curvy, pleasant... only I couldn't enjoy it. I kept thinking about Theresa hiking up that same, damn hill and hoping I could get to the car and go back to rescue her. I had about two more miles to ride, and I pumped the pedals till my thighs burned. One thing was nagging at me. As I rode, I noticed that the mile markers along the road were higher than I thought they should be. Mile 7.0. Mile 6.5. When we were biking earlier along this road, I only remember seeing Mile 3.0 as the first marker. This didn't feel right.
When I reached the parking area... there was no car. I kept riding. Statz road was just ahead, about a quarter mile. There must be another parking area.
Statz Road. DAMN! Could the car have been back there and I didn't see it as I rode past? Churning my aching legs I raced back to the parking area, thinking the worst. Would I find broken glass? Did someone steal the van?
This time I turned into the parking area, only to discover that this, too, wasn't right. Where was the Poison Ivy? All the things that had been staring me in the face finally forced their way through my arrogance and smacked me square in the cerebral cortex. I was MILES from the car. We didn't park at Statz Road. We didn't park at Blount Road. We were parked all the way down by that first unnamed road that cuts between Levee Road and Hwy 33, unnamed because it's actually someone's driveway and a private road to get them out either way.
Back in top gear, I stood up in the saddle and tested my endurance by racing along the levee, beautiful curve after scenic bend, past Blount Road, past the few houses that line the levee. The phone rings in my pocket.
"Where are you?"
"I haven't gotten to the car yet. It was further than we thought. Where are you?"
"Mile marker 7.5."
I failed. Not only did Theresa have to walk all the way back up the hill, but she had time to ride down the other side, and all the way to Levee Road, and was only about four miles behind me. I knew this would be the case, of course, because I knew how long I had been riding, and how far, and there was just no way I could have done all that before she walked up that hill.
Two tenths of a mile more, and finally back to the correct parking area, which was between the 4.0 mile marker and the 3.5 marker I never did see. There was the poison ivy. There was the car. I got off on shaky legs, threw the bike on the rack and quickly drove back to pick Theresa up. I met up with her exactly at Statz Road, which is where I thought we needed to get in the first place. It was 4:30 pm. I know this because I had a 4:40 appointment in Madison, and I was going to be very, very late.
Call. Drive. Meet late, but successfully. Drive back. Drop Theresa off at the same place we parked the car hours earlier. She rides her bike west to cover the last bit of roadway that I had already covered, and I waited for her at Statz Road.
With dwindling daylight, we made our way down to County Road X and parked near the intersection with Hwy 33. We wanted to cover this moderately dangerous section of road if we could. I have to say again how absolutely beautiful this area is. For many years we have thought of this as "The Hills of the People" owing to the rich history this area has with the Native Americans. That's another long story for another blog. High ridges burst out of the ground at steep angles, covered in deciduous trees. Vultures, hawks and eagles soar and circle in the updrafts. Long views across the narrows give magnificent framing to the hills, a portion of which is being preserved as the Lower Narrows State Natural Area just to the west.
Whether walking or biking, the short section along Hwy 33 offers a broad shoulder with lots of gravel, so it's possible to stay safely out of the way of the cars as they fly by in both directions. There is a lot of traffic on this road, and we were happy to be done with it despite the beautiful scenery. We reached our waiting car without incident, and made an end to our day. We had covered 14.4 miles of connecting route, and in the process crossed off two more maps. We also passed from Columbia County into Sauk County, and are looking forward to our return visit where we will eventually walk through Parfrey's Glen, and Devil's Lake State Park.
Running total: 283.6 miles of trail covered; 30.6 miles ‘extra’ hiking/biking. End of Day 39.
14.4 miles of trail covered.
As opportunistic participants of the Ice Age Trail experience, our approach to covering the 1000+ miles is anything but linear. Lincoln county one day, Sauk County the next. Whatever seems the most logical at the time. Today we were faced with a trip to Madison, and so loaded up the bikes and drove two cars all the way down to the Portage, to the parking area on the south end of the Portage Canal Segment, just south of the Wisconsin River, intent on knocking out a few miles of connecting route to the west and south. We drove to our intended starting point, along the long, flat Levee Road at the parking area near Statz Road. Or so we thought. We really did think so. That comes into play later.
Just before we took off, Theresa noticed an old adversary, poison ivy. Only it wasn't the typical low, shrubby poison ivy we're used to seeing in Wisconsin. It was the huge, tree-killing kind of poison ivy that grows as thick as your wrist at the stem and can branch out 15 feet or more through the air. It was like discovering Africanized Honey Bees had made their way this far north. It was not a pleasant discovery. Until this point we had never seen it farther north than northern Illinois. Now the line was much closer to home, and we knew that anything south of here, or even close to the north, would entail a risk of encountering this horrible threat on steroids. It was good to know.
On our bikes, and off we ride. It was 2:10 pm and 74 degrees. Sunny and beautiful.
The roadway along Levee Road is paved and full of curves, with the Wisconsin River to the north and a ditch creek t the south, traversing East-West through the Pine Island State Natural Area. While not exactly scenic, it is a pleasant route, with an abundance of trees, occasional wildlife, and very few cars.
When you travel slowly along a roadway you notice things you don't see by car. You hear more birds. You're more likely to see or hear the sandhill cranes flying overhead. You see the frogs and grasshoppers on the roadway. You see the fawn hiding just off the road in the grass. You actually feel the sun as it hits your face, and smell the scent of different foliage and flowers. You also see the astonishing variety of animals that were laid waste on the road by passing cars, to become two-dimensional sad shadows of themselves left to vanish in the passing seasons. One thing in particular I remember seeing is the high water marks on the trees, showing clearly that the levee is not a fool-proof method of holding the Wisconsin River at bay. You would be well-served to check trail conditions before venturing here in extreme wet weather, as you could find your path is under 2-3 feet of water.
All too soon (really - all too soon), we rolled under I-90/94, then turned left onto Hwy 33 where our car was waiting about a quarter mile down the road. I have no idea what time it was. We were having a good day. It took us less than a half-hour, I'm sure of that.
We took a look at the maps and tried to decide how far to go next. 'This was really easy', we thought. 'How about we pick off a larger chunk this time?' Maybe 'we' isn't the right word. I don't know. I get ambitious sometimes and poor Theresa ends up dragged into things she would have done differently. This is one of those times.
I - read "I" - decided it would be a good idea to just take HWY 33 all the way over to where it intersected with County Road U, or maybe even all the way down to County Road X. It would be a little farther than our last ride, but not too bad.
"This is too far", Theresa said. "Are you sure we're in the right place?"
"Trust me," I said. I could read the map. I could tell where we were.
We ended up parking at the Historical Marker on Hwy 33 just across from the intersection with County Rd U. Then we headed north along U to finish the leg.
Let me start by saying this area is absolutely gorgeous, a lowland flat that was an obvious feature of an ancient river that flowed between the bluffs rising to the left and right, making everything smooth and level after hundreds or thousands of years. The riding was mostly easy, but there was a slight headwind, and we started noticing a distinct uphill trend. At first, it was small, short rises. Then they were more pronounced. The road curved. Surely, there would be a downhill part soon, right? Finally we stopped pedaling and walked for a bit. Then a bit farther. The road kept going up for what felt like a very long time. Finally, as we reached Hein Road, we could see that we were nearly there. Just a tiny bit further uphill and we would finally start our descent. We took a moment at the top of the hill to just breathe and enjoy the thick oak forest. "It gets easier from here", I said. Then we set our bikes in motion and enjoyed the fruits of our long climb, wind in our faces, racing downhill for a long, long... long time. More than half a mile of downhill. Seven tenths of a mile of downhill.
Something's wrong.
We should have passed under I-90/94 within a half mile. Stop the bikes.
"Did we miss a turn?" Theresa asks, as I look at the map.
"Yes", I sheepishly admit.
"How far back?" she says with some annoyance.
This wasn't going to be good. I knew the truth. It wasn't pleasant. "Just about at the top of that hill we just came down."
Only one thing saved me. We had an appointment to get to. We were now running late, and it was possible we would miss the appointment unless I hustled back to the car and came to pick her up.
"Go", she said. "Just, go."
I love my wife. She sent me on partly because she knew I had to get to the car, and partly because she was so angry she just needed to get away from me for a while. To her credit, she let me get nearly a tenth of a mile away before she started slinging the torrent of invective my way. I rode on.
It was a long way up that hill, and fairly steep in places. Turning north at Schepp Road where we should have turned seven tenths of a mile earlier, I quickly rode downhill and under the highway, to an unmarked intersection at Levee Road, turned right and kept hauling my saddle down the road. At this end of the road, Levee Road is nearly identical to the east end of the road. Curvy, pleasant... only I couldn't enjoy it. I kept thinking about Theresa hiking up that same, damn hill and hoping I could get to the car and go back to rescue her. I had about two more miles to ride, and I pumped the pedals till my thighs burned. One thing was nagging at me. As I rode, I noticed that the mile markers along the road were higher than I thought they should be. Mile 7.0. Mile 6.5. When we were biking earlier along this road, I only remember seeing Mile 3.0 as the first marker. This didn't feel right.
When I reached the parking area... there was no car. I kept riding. Statz road was just ahead, about a quarter mile. There must be another parking area.
Statz Road. DAMN! Could the car have been back there and I didn't see it as I rode past? Churning my aching legs I raced back to the parking area, thinking the worst. Would I find broken glass? Did someone steal the van?
This time I turned into the parking area, only to discover that this, too, wasn't right. Where was the Poison Ivy? All the things that had been staring me in the face finally forced their way through my arrogance and smacked me square in the cerebral cortex. I was MILES from the car. We didn't park at Statz Road. We didn't park at Blount Road. We were parked all the way down by that first unnamed road that cuts between Levee Road and Hwy 33, unnamed because it's actually someone's driveway and a private road to get them out either way.
Back in top gear, I stood up in the saddle and tested my endurance by racing along the levee, beautiful curve after scenic bend, past Blount Road, past the few houses that line the levee. The phone rings in my pocket.
"Where are you?"
"I haven't gotten to the car yet. It was further than we thought. Where are you?"
"Mile marker 7.5."
I failed. Not only did Theresa have to walk all the way back up the hill, but she had time to ride down the other side, and all the way to Levee Road, and was only about four miles behind me. I knew this would be the case, of course, because I knew how long I had been riding, and how far, and there was just no way I could have done all that before she walked up that hill.
Two tenths of a mile more, and finally back to the correct parking area, which was between the 4.0 mile marker and the 3.5 marker I never did see. There was the poison ivy. There was the car. I got off on shaky legs, threw the bike on the rack and quickly drove back to pick Theresa up. I met up with her exactly at Statz Road, which is where I thought we needed to get in the first place. It was 4:30 pm. I know this because I had a 4:40 appointment in Madison, and I was going to be very, very late.
Call. Drive. Meet late, but successfully. Drive back. Drop Theresa off at the same place we parked the car hours earlier. She rides her bike west to cover the last bit of roadway that I had already covered, and I waited for her at Statz Road.
With dwindling daylight, we made our way down to County Road X and parked near the intersection with Hwy 33. We wanted to cover this moderately dangerous section of road if we could. I have to say again how absolutely beautiful this area is. For many years we have thought of this as "The Hills of the People" owing to the rich history this area has with the Native Americans. That's another long story for another blog. High ridges burst out of the ground at steep angles, covered in deciduous trees. Vultures, hawks and eagles soar and circle in the updrafts. Long views across the narrows give magnificent framing to the hills, a portion of which is being preserved as the Lower Narrows State Natural Area just to the west.
Whether walking or biking, the short section along Hwy 33 offers a broad shoulder with lots of gravel, so it's possible to stay safely out of the way of the cars as they fly by in both directions. There is a lot of traffic on this road, and we were happy to be done with it despite the beautiful scenery. We reached our waiting car without incident, and made an end to our day. We had covered 14.4 miles of connecting route, and in the process crossed off two more maps. We also passed from Columbia County into Sauk County, and are looking forward to our return visit where we will eventually walk through Parfrey's Glen, and Devil's Lake State Park.
Running total: 283.6 miles of trail covered; 30.6 miles ‘extra’ hiking/biking. End of Day 39.
No comments:
Post a Comment