After the party campsite had kept me up far later than I had liked, I was finally sleeping sound. That is, until my bladder alarm went off sometime around 4 AM. Unlike when you're at home, you can't just stagger out of bed into the bathroom when you're camping. I had to get up, put pants and shoes on and then walk down the trail to the porta-potty.
Thankfully I was tired enough that this short journey didn't keep me from falling back asleep. I crawled back into my sleeping bag and proceeded to saw some more wood.
Then around 5:30, I was awakened by the sound of something hitting the tent. I rolled over and realized that it was raining. Quite vigorously, I might add.
I did quick mental checklist to determine that I hadn't left anything outside the tent that might be damaged by rain. Satisfied that I hadn't I rolled over and let the rain lull me back to sleep.
I awoke about an hour later around 6:30, and was surprised to discover that it was still pouring rain. The morning was just getting light enough for me to look around the tent without my flashlight. There were now a few small water puddles on the tent floor, mostly around the door. I made sure that nothing was in danger of getting wet or damaged. Satisfied, I resolved myself to the fact that I wouldn't be riding my motorcycle until the torrential rain stopped. With no other reason to stay awake, I crawled back into my sleeping bag and sacked out again.
Another hour later it was 7:30, and still raining hard. The puddles inside the tent were larger, but not anything of which I needed to be concerned at this point. I've gone through severe rains with this tent before, and it does pretty well. The worst part is the door, as I've noticed the zipper leaks water.
I lay in bed until 8:30, alternating dozing, surfing the internet on my laptop and reading my book. Finally, my bladder wasn't going to allow me to stay in the tent any longer, so I put on my pants and shoes and ventured outside. When I opened the tent door I must have disturbed a ton of water that was precariously beading on the outside of the tent, as a lot of water suddenly poured in. I decided to deal with it after I got back from the restroom.
The rain had lightened but still was coming down steady. My camp site was on higher ground and very sandy, so it had decent drainage. There were a few puddles, but for the most part it was in good shape. The path down to the porta-pottie was pretty muddy though, so I had to step carefully.
Back at the tent I had a fair amount of water to deal with. I decided to sacrifice an extra shirt to use as a makeshift sponge. I sopped up the water best I could and wrung the shirt out outside the door several times. I then hung the shirt over the post that held the water spigot, hoping over the course of the next few days it would dry out.
At about 9:30 it was still drizzling, but I was getting pretty hungry and uncomfortable sitting inside the tent. I decided to ride into town and find some breakfast.
There was an IHOP not too far from the campground, so I figured that would be adequate. As I discovered, so did everyone else in the county. The place was packed. Thankfully it was easy for them to find a seat for one, so I didn't have to wait.
I ordered a vegetarian omelet with pancakes and coffee in an attempt to offset the previous night's meat onslaught. I lingered over my breakfast and read my book, a John Sandford novel. Sandford's novels are all based in Minneapolis and the surrounding areas, a stomping ground of which I am very familiar, so it's fun for me to visualize the novels as I often recognize the different settings.
I spent an hour at my table and drank a whole pot of coffee. My waitress was fantastic, and earned a very generous tip.
When I left the rain had stopped, but the roads were still quite wet with large puddles everywhere. I'm not sure how much rain had fallen, but I would guess it was in the 2" range. It was still cloudy and looked like it could possibly start raining again, so I decided to hang out in the Dells until at least noon and then evaluate what the weather was doing. I didn't have anywhere I needed to be by that evening, so I decided I was in no hurry to get out and ride in the cold wet weather.
I rode across the street and gassed up the bike. I figured that would be one less thing with which I would have to deal when the weather finally broke.
Not in any hurry to return to my tent to sit, I decided to go downtown and look around. The downtown Dells area is riddled with gift shops, jewelry and candy stores, and all of the other things that make a tourist trap what it is. I found a parking spot on a side street and fed the meter with an hour's worth of quarters.
I browsed around, looking at all the junk they try to sell to the tourists. Some of this stuff I have a hard time believing that anyone would buy. I am not joking when in one shop they were selling "synthetic novelty urine." I don't want to know for what purpose you would use that.
After my hour of parking was up I had seen most everything of interest, and quite a few things of no interest. I rode back to the campground. Things were starting to dry up although the sky was still overcast. I decided to shower and shave so I would be ready to head out and ride during the afternoon.
I gathered my clothes, towel and shaving kit and walked down to the main building where the showers were located. Across the path from the showers was a game room, so I decided to peek inside and see what games were featured. I lost interest in most games after the late 80s. It seems like once Mortal Kombat came out (of which I wasn't impressed) video games just went downhill. I still love playing the classics, though.
They didn't have anything too captivating, although they did have a vintage baseball game. It was the kind that rolled the marble down and you had to turn the knob to swing the bat. An accurate hit would put the ball through one of the chutes in the back labeled single, double, triple and home run. An inaccurate hit would put the ball in a hole on the playing field labeled "out." I decided it was worth a quarter to play.
Once my inning was over, I went over and showered. The showers weren't great, but they were adequate to wash the layer of filth off my body. One of the annoying things was they were the type where you pressed the button and you got about five seconds of water before it shut off. So I had to continuously press the button to keep water pouring on me. I also discovered that if you don't press the button for 30 seconds or more (like when lathering up your hair with shampoo) when you press it again you are greeted with a few seconds of ice cold water. Bonus.
After my shower I returned to the tent and loaded up the bike for the day's journey. I had printed out a few maps of some interesting looking roads from the web, and decided the afternoon would be a good day to explore the area to the north east of the Dells.
The recommended roads I had looked up all began on highway 23 east of interstate 39. The most direct route there would have been to take 23 east from the Dells. However, this route would include a segment where 23 joins up with I-39 and heads north for a while. Generally interstates aren't that much fun to ride. I decided to head north on highway 13 out of the Dells, then cut through some county roads until I found my way over to 23. I figured if I got lost, that was part of the purpose of this trip!
As I headed north on highway 13, I saw a promising sight from the northwest: blue sky. The clouds were starting to break up and although there were a few dark ones floating around, it appeared as though we were done with the rain.
After heading north for a little bit, I saw and interesting county road and swung east. I followed that for a few miles when it came to an end at an intersection. So I took that road north for a while until I felt like I had ridden far enough, and then headed east again. Eventually that highway swung back south and I found myself in Oxford, which was on highway 82 just west of where I wanted to be. Great!
Out of Oxford I rode east until I crossed I-39 where highway 82 merged with highway 23. At this point I pulled over and consulted my one of my maps that charted a circular route that started a few miles north of where I currently was. I headed north on highway 51 up through the town of Westfield.
For the next couple of hours, I followed this map to the best of my ability. Given the lack of detail on the map, and the constant curving of the roads which played with my sense of direction, I frequently had to stop and gather my bearings. Numerous times I found myself riding down a road that was not the route prescribed by the map. In these situations I would either backtrack to where I made a wrong turn, or modify my route.
In my previous trips missing turns like this would have annoyed me. However, this year was different. I really didn't have a destination for the day. As long as I was back at my tent in time to get some sleep that night, then I would be satisfied. My purpose for riding was to enjoy the wind and the scenery, not to reach certain landmarks by certain times. So when I took a wrong turn and had to modify my route or backtrack, I was still fulfilling my purpose. It was a much more relaxing method of touring than that of which I was used.
I took some pictures along the way, but for some reason they didn't turn out. Apparently the sun which was now out in full force in the blue sky decided to mess with my camera. So you'll just have to take my word that the riding was scenic.
I continued north up until around the Deerfield area, and then headed east. In Redgranite, my map had the route turn back southwest. I successfully followed the map for a while, but then made a wrong turn on county road E. I was now heading back east. After about ten miles I came across the highway F junction and stopped to look at my map. At this point I realized I was way off my original circular route.
I thought about backtracking to get back on my original route. However, after looking at the map I realized that from this point if I headed south down to highway 23 I would arrive at Princeton, from which Green Lake was located only a few miles east.
Green Lake is a typical medium-sized Wisconsin lake. However, it holds a significant place in my memory from early childhood. Back in the 1960s and early 1970s, my father was a full-time pastor in the American Baptist denomination. The American Baptists have a large conference center located at Green Lake. When I was a young child, up through about age six, we traveled to Green Lake at least once per year so my parents could attend various denominational meetings. I have quite a few memories of these trips.
I decided it would be fun to ride over to the lake and see what memories I could revisit. With any luck, perhaps I could get in to the conference center grounds and look around.
I headed south and found my way down to Princeton. I had skipped lunch due to the fact that I consumed the huge IHOP breakfast that morning, and at noon I still wasn't hungry. However it was now coming up on 3:30 PM and having been riding for three hours I decided I could use a stretch break and a restroom. I stopped at a Kwik-Trip and got off the cycle for a few minutes.
At this point in time, I was really craving ice cream. I looked around the store to see what ice cream options were available. In my quest, I noticed they were running a special where you could get four large iced chocolate cake doughnuts for $1. As good as ice cream sounded, a killer deal on doughnuts sounded better. I bought some, and a root beer.
I scarfed down a doughnut in the parking lot. It was delicious. I easily could have finished all four, but my rational side started doing the calorie computation in my head, and I decided I really didn't need to eat all four in one sitting. So I stuck the remaining three in my saddle bag, had a few more sips of root beer and then hit the road.
Green Lake was only about six or seven miles east of Princeton. I was riding along when suddenly I saw the entrance to the conference center approaching. I jammed on my brakes, much to the chagrin of the pickup truck that was tailgating me, and pulled into the entrance. The truck blared its horn and went around me.
I recall there being a booth at the entrance of the GLCC (Green Lake Conference Center) where you had to pay a fee to get in. As I was riding down highway 23, my mind had been forming a plan to make an attempt at social engineering and gain free admittance to the grounds. I just wanted to look around for a few minutes and if it was going to cost an entry fee I wasn't sure whether or not it would have been worth the cost. However, once I arrived at the entrance, I saw no booth. The gates were open and there wasn't anyone around. So I decided to go ahead and ride on in.
On the outer edge of the GLCC, lies a golf course. I remember as a child always wanting my father to take me out golfing on this course when we were here. He never did. Actually, I don't recall him ever going golfing himself when we visited, which probably had something to do with us usually being flat broke.
I rode down the path through the golf course and soaked in as many memories as I could. I came across a fork in the road with a sign that indicated Judson Tower was on the right. This is a large bell tower located up on a hill, which overlooks much of the area. I remembered climbing up the tower with my father. I decided for sure I wanted to see it, so I hung a right and went down the path.
Many of the paths in the GLCC are older pavement which is now in deteriorating condition, or simply small gravel roads. I slowly wound my way up the hill toward the tower, taking care not to dump the bike in the areas of loose gravel.
I came into the clearing and there stood Judson Tower. This tower was built in the early 1800s by Victor Lawson and the observation platform is 200 feet above the lake. From the base, the tower is around 70 feet high. I pulled over and parked, and noticed that the entry door at the base appeared to be locked. Bummer! I was hoping to be able to climb the tower.
As I was lamenting the fact that I couldn't, a child suddenly came around from the other side of the base of tower, quickly followed by his father. We exchanged pleasantries and he asked if I wanted to go up the tower. I replied that I was hoping I could, and he stated that he had gotten the key to the tower down at the hotel. He said they were just leaving, but he could hang around for a few minutes if I wanted to go up.
I gratefully accepted his offer. He unlocked the door and I went in. The bottom of the tower is a large open room. In one corner is what looks like a closet, but within is located a small enclosed circular staircase which leads to the top. I began my ascent.
There are 121 steps leading to the observation platform. The staircase is very narrow. My right shoulder would rub on the center support pole of the staircase, and my left shoulder would rub on the concrete wall. Admittedly, I'm broad shouldered but even so I found it interesting that in this huge tower they jammed a dinky little staircase into the corner.
After a couple of minutes I reached the top. I don't like heights. I gingerly walked around and took in the views. After snapping a few pictures, I decided I had made the guy down at the bottom wait long enough and I descended.
At the bottom, I thanked the man for sticking around so I could make the journey to the top. We parted ways, and I rode my bike back down the path leading to the tower.
I came across a junction with an old road that looked interesting. I started to follow it but after a couple hundred yards it was just getting muddier and in worse shape. I decided to bag exploring this road and turn back. Even turning back was tricky as the slop was making it difficult to control the bike. I managed to make it back to the main path without laying the bike down in the mud, and headed back down towards the main entrance road.
Back at the golf course junction I took Lawson Drive into the main area of the conference center. At this point I probably spent 45 minutes riding around, taking pictures and putting the puzzle pieces of my memory back together.
Many things had changed since I was here as a boy. The main dormitory in which we used to stay is now a maintenance building. There is now fancier lodging available for the visitors to the GLCC.
Behind the old dormitory building was an area that featured, among other things, a totem pole, a prayer room and a geology room where you could see various rocks on display. The totem pole is gone. The building that housed the prayer room and geology room was still standing, but locked and no longer usable. The areas in which I used to play were now overgrown.
From the front, the main hotel hasn't changed much from when I was young, except the trees are much larger. We would eat in the cafeteria area of the hotel, but we wouldn't stay here as I'm sure it was more expensive than our finances would allow.
The conference center has a greenhouse. I vaguely remember walking through it as a child, and that my mother would spend some time there.
So many parts of the conference grounds triggered all sorts of memories. Many of the photos I snapped would be unremarkable to anyone else but when I see them the past rushes into my head like a flood, and I can remember the sights, sounds and even smells of the past.
Turning up this old path, I could remember riding in the back of my parent's 1967 Impala. The windows were down due to the lack of air conditioning and the sweltering summer heat. As we passed each concrete terrace I remember the sound of the car's engine being reflected into the cabin in rhythmic pulses. The song "Band On The Run" by Wings was on the radio.
There were some small bookstore type shops on the grounds. I remember my parents being at a meeting and hiring a youth attending the camp to babysit me while they were gone. She took me to the bookstore and bought me a hot pink pen with a round circular cap that had my name on it. The buildings were quite old at that time, and now all that remains are the concrete shells.
There remains evidence of a simpler time, when life was carefree and full of wonder.
I went riding down some old paths that these days look like they are mostly used by people on foot.
Scattered throughout the center are prayer towers. I stopped and explored one I remember as a child. It is really starting to show its age and doesn't look like it sees any regular use.
I rode around a while longer exploring and reminiscing. Finally I decided it was time to head back to my campsite in the Dells. I took a few more pictures on my way out of the conference area.
I stopped just before leaving to use the restroom and eat another one of the doughnuts I'd purchased. I hit the road about 5 PM and headed west on highway 23. At Montello I stopped to take a few pictures of a waterfall in a little park. I remembered passing this park as a child.
Following highway 23 takes one into the Dells, however at I-39 it merges and jogs south for a while before branching off to the west again. I didn't have any great desire to ride on the interstate, and I wasn't in a particular hurry to get back to camp, so I decided to explore some back roads.
I headed west until Oxford, then went south on county road A. This was a nice scenic little road that seemed to be far away from anywhere.
I was riding along when suddenly I had a weird premonition. The thought popped into my head, "I should probably keep an eye out for deer." I then came around a corner and crested a blind hill and sure enough there were four deer standing right on the road. There was no way I could have seen them before that hill. Had I not had that thought to be careful just seconds beforehand I easily could have had a very, very serious accident. As it was they startled me, but because I had anticipated the situation I was able to get on the brakes and stop without it being a close call. The deer scampered off into the woods.
When things like this happen people attempt to explain them. Some chalk the situations up to coincidence or blind luck. I have no problem believing that God was looking out for me and put that thought into my head. Had He not met me there on that road, I would have met Him seconds later. I took off down the road again with a sense of calm, rather than the usual adrenaline-pumping feeling one has after close calls. I rode with a sense of peace. The cognitive dissonance was intriguing: my brain told me that I could have easily been killed, yet I had a complete feeling of serenity.
The rest of the ride back to the campsite was uneventful, both physically and spiritually. I stopped at the tent and relaxed for a few minutes. There was a big campground-wide cookout going on down at the picnic shelter, to which the lady at the office had invited me and I debated about going down and joining in.
As I mentioned before, I'm not an overly social person. It's not that I don't like people. I just find it hard to get comfortable in situations such as these, especially when I don't know anyone. I am the type that often sits quietly alone in crowds and observes everyone else. If I don't do that, then I become socially bipolar and I'm the guy you see with a lampshade on my head, trying way too hard to be noticed.
Regardless of my personality flaws, I really wasn't in the mood to join in with a crowd. As an additional incentive, they were serving pulled-pork sandwiches. With the overload of meat I'd had the previous night at Famous Dave's, I decided to do something different.
I got back on the bike and putted into town. As I rode, I stopped and took a few pictures of a building that was built to appear as if it had been thrown up in the air and landed upside down. I'm not sure what was inside the building, but the architecture was interesting.
Across the parking lot was an amusement park with a roller coaster. I thought that may be fun to ride after supper.
Further down the road I came across a restaurant called "Pizza Pasta." What this place lacks in a name, it more than makes up for in food quality. I remember eating here a couple of times during my honeymoon. I thought it would be good to renew my culinary memories.
I was not disappointed. On some nights they run a buffet. This happened to be one of those nights. The food was delicious, and not being a chain, it all tasted very homemade. I relaxed in a booth, read my book and ate until I was about to burst.
Feeling tired and very full, I decided to head back and check out the roller coaster. As I left the restaurant, I noticed that now that the sun had gone down the temp was dropping rather quickly. I rode a few blocks over to the amusement park and went to the gate.
As it turned out, you couldn't purchase tickets for just the roller coaster; you had to purchase entry to the whole park. It was now past 8:00 and the park closed at 9, so I decided it wouldn't be worth purchasing full price for the park just to ride the roller coaster once or twice.
I walked over to the fence and watched the coaster in action. It looked pretty cool, as off the first drop the train went down underneath the parking lot, and emerged on the other side. There was another section of track on that side of the lot, where it circled around and then went back under the parking lot again. This was no small parking lot either, which means the train traveled underground the length of a couple football fields. It would have been awesome to ride.
I stuck around to watch the coaster make another run, but it didn't. I then noticed that lights were shutting off and people were streaming out of the park in great numbers. So I probably wouldn't have been able to get in and ride before they closed the park anyway.
I thought about finding something else to do prior to heading back to the campground, but the previous night's poor sleep and the long day of riding were starting to take their toll. I stopped for gas, then decided to head back, build a fire, call my family and relax.
And that's pretty much what I did. On my way back into the campground, I took the long way around to check out the campsites that had wrecked my sleep the previous evening. There were still tents there and plenty of lights, but overall it looked pretty quiet. Good. I was hoping that they had partied themselves out and would be sleeping it off tonight.
The cabins next to me were quiet as well. Knowing that the occupants were attending a wedding today, I figured they were out partying at the reception or dance and wouldn't return until late.
I built a little fire and called my family. I attempted to get on the internet to check email, weather, etc. but for some reason I couldn't connect to the wireless network. As it turns out, Saturday morning would be the last time I was able to successfully connect.
I read my book next to the fire until the urge to sleep finally overpowered me. At about 10 PM I climbed into my sleeping bag and quickly drifted off.
Unfortunately, at about 11 PM the people at the wedding came back to their cabins. While they weren't near as noisy as the partiers the previous night, they were located much closer. Rather than going inside they chose to stand around the deck and talk. One woman's voice in particular was shrill and just at the specific pitch to shoot right through my brain.
I decided as long as I was awake I would use the restroom. I trudged down to the porta-pottie and as I passed the cabins of the noisemakers I gave them my best "I'm really tired and you're keeping me awake" look. Unfortunately they either didn't take the hint, or they didn't care. Once again I was outnumbered and I'm smart enough to know that confronting multiple drunks can be dangerous. Don't ask me why I know that.
They chatted and conversed until nearly 1 AM, when finally I heard the woman get in her car and drive away. The guys went into their cabins and assumedly went to bed as well. At long last I was able to get some sleep.
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This page last updated on 06/28/2018