Now You Can Do What Trump Won't In The Badger State

Right now, Wisconsin is in the news for mainly for the violence in Kenosha, and the possibilty of the President inflaming tensions with his scheduled visit. 

I have never been to Wisconsin, so I know nothing about the state, or Kenosha, but what I've seen and heard in the meidia. (It's a Rust Belt city with widening gaps between rich and poor, black and white, etc.)  If I were to visit the Badger State, I imagine that I would want to go to Kenosha because the events there will be an important part of this country's history.  But, I'm sure there is more that I'd want to see.

One thing I'd want to do is cycle from Lake Michigan to the Mississippi River.  Now it's possible to do just that on a cross-state bicycle route just approved by the American Association of State Highway and Transportation Officials. 

Like other long bicycle routes (like the East Coast Greenway), the US Bicycle Route 30 was created by linking existing state and county bike trails, local roads and bike paths and state and county highways.  In the middle of the state, there is a spur--US Bicycle Route 230--for use when the Merrimac Ferry, which crosses the Wisconsin River, is not available.

Creating good bicycle routes is a laborious feat.  Is it any more difficult than getting the Cheeto In Chief to ride on them?  

If You Want To Escape, Pack Light

The first rule of thumb for cycle touring is:  Feel guilty about carrying anything more than your maps and water bottle.

It's the sort of advice I might have given when I was younger.  But I cannot claim credit for it: The honor belongs to Doug Shidell and Phillip van Valkenberg. Their pearl of wisdom came in a book they co-authored:

Now tell me:  Does that book look like it came out of the early '70's, or what?  Well, it did, a couple of years after Shidell and van Valkenberg met.  The former was a student at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and the latter was a recent alumnus.  They were a couple of long-haired guys with "hippie tendencies" and a recently-found passion for cycling.

Doug Shidell and Phillip van Valkenberg.  This photo was published on the inside of the back cover of Bicycle Escape Routes.

They also loved their home state of Wisconsin, and their book is as much a billet doux to the Badger State as it is a guide to cycling in it.  In addition to maps and descriptions of rides, it gave sage advice about how to deal with snarling dogs and whatever else a bicycle tourist might encounter, as well as counsel on how to live in the moment:  "Marsh hawks spend much of their time sitting on fence posts in the fields," they wrote.  "If you see a bird sitting or flying low over the fields, stop near a tree or bush to remain inconspicuous and watch him for a little while."

The book also had a sense of humor about everything, including the squeaky bearings on Shidell's bike:  "We were serenaded by this bicycle's version of 'Song of the Volga Boatman' on every upgrade.  Respite of sorts came later when a spot weld let go on one of Doug's racks, creating a squeak that completely drowned out the original noise."

Since that book was published, van Valkenberg, now 73, has written seven more about cycling in Wisconsin.  He has also been a nearly non-stop advocate for cycling in the state, having worked to bring about the Elroy-Sparta State Trail and organized tours, races other rides.  These days, he and his partner, Georgia Kaftan, ride a tandem recumbent bike.

Shidell is 67 and lives in Minneapolis.  He was the first employee of Quality Bicycle Products, from which he's retired.  He also has written about bicycling and bike advocacy for the Minneapolis Star-Tribune and started a website and map-publishing effort called Bikeeverywhere.

Interestingly, he says that his cycling and  bike advocacy were motivated by environmental concerns.  He first heard about global warming in the 1970s, he said, and because the "dangers made sense to me", he thought, "I'll just start riding a bike instead of driving around."

I wonder whether either of them carries anything more than his maps and water bottle--and, if he does, whether he feels guilty about it.

Beer, Cheese, Football--And Cycling?

If you were to ask people what the best US States for cycling are, a lot of people--even those who've  never been to those states--would probably pick Vermont, Oregon, California, Massachusetts, Washington, Colorado or Michigan (especially the Upper Peninsula and the upper parts of the Lower Peninsula).  Nearly every state would get a vote from someone:  After all, we all have different ideas about what "the best" cycling conditions are.

And, I would suspect, at least a few people would pick Wisconsin.  I've never cycled in the Badger State, but I know that its capital, Madison, is consistently rated as one of the most bike-friendly communities in the nation.  And, during cycling's first heyday (during the last two decades of the 19th Century and the first decade of the 20th), Wisconsin had one of the most extensive networks of bicycle lanes.

However, as in much of the rest of the US, the automobile rapidly overtook the bicycle as the chief means of transportation for those who did not have access to mass transit (and even among those who had it).  The bicycle was largely seen as a children's toy.

But, during the "dark ages" of cycling, Wisconsin did more than its share to keep the flame of adult cycling alive, if flickering.  And now the state--better known, rightly or wrongly, for cheese, beer and football (the US version), now boasts some of the greatest concentrations of cyclists and bicycle shops (both brick-and-mortar and online) in the nation.

Jesse Gant and Nicholas Hoffman tell this story in a book released in September:  Wheel Fever:  How Wisconsin Became A Great Bicycling State.

I want a copy for the cover alone: