We crossed the state of Wisconsin, right to left but it was only when we reached Michigan near the far western corner of the Upper Peninsula that we both burst out with “I remember this place!” Rusty said nothing from the comfort of his cushion under Layne’s feet.
We did, in effect eventually return whence we had been in late July 2020, when we took our “shake up” cruise with our new van. Back then Covid was new and annoying and today we are still being cautious so we still feel constrained where we would like to spend more time in cities.
We saw rolling countryside and corn as though we were in Iowa. We had cheese and we passed more cheese shops than you could shake a stick at. I like Wisconsin and not only because I like cheese.
The roads aren’t great with seams and frost heaves and the occasional pothole to remind us of the worst of Mexico. Many of the roads are long and straight rolling over hill and down dale.
But as long and straight as they may be, they pass through lovely little towns, pretty, filled with flowers and neatly mowed lawns.
Schools are back in session so I think we’ve outlasted high tourist season so the crowds have thinned and we go find ourselves alone much of the time.
This is a state filled with odd signs referring to customs obscure to me. I saw this no parking sign with the weirdest instructions. No parking on the street in the middle of the night; but only in winter…why? I ask myself.
Summer is the season of road repairs and miles and miles of roads are torn up and fenced off interspersed with passing zones and flaggers closing lanes apparently at random. It’s selfish but I wish we were the ones to benefit from the nice smooth repairs but we won’t be back next Spring.
We cut across the middle of the state skipping Door County and Green Bay which we visited in 2020. Our goal was the town of Cable for breakfast followed by a turn north to Bayfield, a lake front town I had read about in sailing publications in decades past.
The Brick House Cafe got some notoriety on television and who can resist a small town business buried in the woods?
It was a destination, somewhere to drive to with outside seating. The service smacked of hiring problems and the food was okay. I mean we ate it okay and drank the coffee but we weren’t oohing and have no plans to go back.
Rusty enjoyed his walk around town and we shared the crime brûlée French toast which tasted like…French toast. Been there done that.
Bayfield was unknown to Layne but it only lay an hour north. Complaining of a reaction to an overly sweet breakfast she took a nap, east to do when you drive your house, while I took Rusty to see this maritime town. Turns out they anticipate the need of people to sit and enjoy the scenery: lots of benches…
The wind which had been shaking the trees and forcing me to pay attention to my lane control was honking on Lake Superior.
The sun was pulling the temperature up to the mid 80s but the air was dry and that wind kept us cool as we walked, Rusty and I. Bayfield was every bit as pretty as I had hoped.
Bayfield calls itself the gateway to the Apostle Islands and there is a car ferry to the largest of those. The marina is full of sailboats and small motorboats but Bayfield is proudest of its commercial fishing history and it’s tradition of boat building.
I was half tempted to take a try at the swimming beach but I really wanted to take a turn in the maritime museum.
Layne was up and enjoying the waterfront when we got back. We left Rusty aboard GANNET2 and Layne went to check out the local smoked fish which it turned out was excellent.
The maritime museum is free and apparently well funded by well to do citizens who want their history recorded.
They have done the fishermen proud, the descendants of hardy Scandinavians who emigrated and brought their sailing traditions.
They trolled for fish and rolled logs and drove on the lake when it froze.
They have the engines that were used over the past century to power boats that were more efficient than sail, unfortunately.
Conservation is reported with some pride.
And those weird winter sports they indulge in up here. “Ice unsafe” No shit as they say in the tropics where roads are made of dirt and tar but not ice.
We camped in the woods and Rusty romped in the cool climate.
I like Wisconsin.
