Tuesday was a beautiful day. I met Hans Langseth, an award-winning woodcarver who lives in Minneiska (Minnesota) and the great grandson of Hans Langseth, who gets the credit from the folks at Guinness (the record-keepeers, not the beer makers) for having the world’s longest beard. You know it’s going to be a great day when you are talking to someone who is related to a Guinness record holder, especially if it involves 18 ½ feet of facial hair, 17 ½ feet of which is now housed at the Smithsonian. Even though the younger Hans is an award-winning woodcarver, Googling “Hans Langseth” turns up pages and pages of links about the bearded man and virtually none about the woodcarver. One of the links describes an Ohio man, Matt Bischoff, who got a tattoo of Hans Langseth the elder on his back during an episode of Miami Ink. If you want a tattoo of a talented woodcarver on your back, Hans the younger might be able to help. By the way, I believe Tom Cruise holds the record for having the most consecutive beards.
Before I met Hans, I climbed to the top of Mount Charity at John A. Latsch State Park. (The neighboring peaks are called Faith and Hope, in case you were wondering.) The climb to the top is deceivingly difficult. Some years ago, the state built a series of wooden steps—592 steps, according to the Department of Natural Resources website—apparently believing this would make the trek to the top easier. Steeled with the confidence that comes from having climbed many more steps in the past, I assumed this would be an easy climb. Wrong. I’m still sore, three days later. But the view was so worth it.
Step to the Top
Latsch Park Overlook looking south to Lock & Dam #5
Latsch State Park: view to the north
Back in Winona, I recharged with a deeply satisfying dinner of spring rolls and fish larp from Chong’s Noodle Shop in Winona, quite possibly the only restaurant in town that doesn’t feature hamburgers prominently on its menu. I ended a nearly perfect day with a beer and jazz at The Root Note in La Crosse, my new favorite hangout.
Bad Decision of the Day: Ordering French fries—again and again and again. I am incapable of resisting the temptation of those lovely, deep-fried slices of potato goodness, even when faced with options that are inarguably better for me. Baked potato? No thanks. Steamed veggies? Nah. Side salad? Are you kidding? (In my defense, a side salad in Wisconsin is going to be a small plate of iceberg lettuce sprinkled with three carrot shreds. Who really wants that?)
Thursday was awesome. Most days on the road are good, but few are awesome. Thursday, April 1, it hit 80° in southwest Wisconsin! 80! This totally ruined my plans to sequester myself in a library.
After a morning visiting a few accommodation providers—freeing me of the guilt I would feel if I bailed on the entire agenda for the day—I changed clothes and hit the bluffs. My first stop was Bergen Bluffs State Natural Area between Stoddard and Genoa, Wisconsin. Based upon what I saw from the road, I thought this was going to be a quick hike up and back down. Ninety minutes later, my legs were shaky and my arms looked like I’d been scraping them with a razor.
The frontal assault that didn't work
Normally, the best approach to climbing bluffs along the Upper Mississippi is to look for a path up the side and around the back. At Bergen Bluffs, I decided to try the full frontal assault, because it didn’t look too intimidating. It didn’t work, but I came close. The soil was loose and covered with debris (mostly fallen leaves), so the footing was very slippery. As I neared the top and stared down the reality of the slick footing and steep climb ahead of me, I changed my plan of attack and circled around instead of continuing straight up.
The view from Bergen Bluffs
It was still a tough climb, but I made it the rest of the way. I wish I could say it was worth the effort, but, honestly, it wasn’t (except for working off the roast beef sandwich and fries from lunch). The views at the top were mostly obstructed by trees, so I’m sure there is no view of the river at all in summer. By the time I got back to my car, I was soaked, scratched, and sore; Bergen Bluffs kicked my ass.
Looking down from Battle Bluff
Battle Bluff and its impressive goat prairie
I almost ditched the second hike, but, what else was I going to do on a warm, sunny day when I was already soaked in sweat and covered with blood-encrusted scratches? I drove a few miles south to Battle Bluff Prairie State Natural Area. After a lethargic start, I got a second wind and reached the top of Battle Bluff after 25 minutes (and climbing about 500 feet in elevation). This was a much easier hike—the footing was not as bad and there were fewer brambles to contend with. At the top, I was rewarded with unobstructed views of the river. Sweet. Inspired by the sun in my face and a gentle breeze (and tired legs), I sat atop the bluff and watched the world do its thing for about 45 minutes.
I was joined by a group of over a dozen raptors floating along the thermals. They would rise up the bluff face and appear from below about 20 feet in front of me, then rise and circle and rise until they were specks in the sky, disappear, then magically rise up in front of me again. Two of the birds were bald eagles. I’m not entirely sure what the others were, but I’m guessing red-tail hawks and a couple of kestrels. You should come here.
Hawk riding the thermals
Bald Eagle
I didn’t see a lot of wildlife on these hikes, just a few deer, three turkeys, the above mentioned raptors, and my first tick of the season. After I finished the second hike, I drove to Lansing (Iowa) and washed up in the bathroom of a Quik Trip. I found a little ice cream shop near the river and, even though I hadn’t had dinner, yet (it was about 5pm), I thought it seemed like the perfect moment for ice cream, so I got two scoops of butter pecan in a homemade waffle cone and slurped my way out of town.
Just a few cuts on my arm
Bad Decision of the Day: Not wearing long sleeves or just not being more careful of sharp stuff. As I mentioned above, my arms took some damage during these hikes, especially at Bergen Bluffs. It was a warm day, so I wasn’t about to wear long sleeves, but, geez, I could have been a little more careful.
I love road tripping—when I plug in my iPod, the miles fly by and my mind feels unburdened. Right now, though, I don’t want to see the inside of my car again for a while. I’m back home after driving 1500 miles in 6 days and staying in a different bed every night. A trip that began in Oskaloosa, Iowa (a fun evening talking about travel at The Book Vault) ended with two days of tedious driving around the Chicago burbs, trying to sell travel guides to independent bookstores.
McMansion
Observation #1 from my driving tour: Where there’s a golf course, there’s a McMansion.
Even though I think most of the 19 stores I visited will carry the Mississippi Valley Traveler guide books, this was not a cost-effective marketing strategy. For reasons that are perfectly understandable, most of the stores prefer to buy through distributors instead of from individual authors: it’s easier to track inventory and they have fewer checks to write. For me, though, that decision means I make 40% of the cover price instead of 60%; so, in addition to making less money, I’m doing the marketing work that the distributor can do for me.
Observation #2: Between trying to navigate the street, reading the signs, and watching out for crazy drivers, I don’t know when Chicago drivers find time to text.
After the first day of driving around the burbs, I realized that I was wasting my time, so I cut the trip short. I just didn’t see a need to add to the lack of productivity with the joy of driving around (and trying to park in) the city. I’ll let the distributor contact those stores.
In between the book signing in Oskaloosa (say it with me: Oskaloosa, Oskaloosa, Oskaloosa!) and the Chicago burbs, I was lucky enough to see two exceptional musicians: William Elliott Whitmore (for the third time this year, and, no, he hasn’t filed for a restraining order, yet) and Pieta Brown. I’ve written ad nauseum about WEW, so I’ll say a few things about Pieta this time. She’s awesome.
The daughter of beloved Iowa musician Greg Brown, Pieta is carving out a space for herself, seamlessly mixing country, blues, and folk influences. Her voice reminded me of Margo Timmins of Cowboy Junkies fame (and it seems everyone else has made this comparison, too). I had the pleasure of seeing her play with another Iowa legend, guitar player extraordinaire Bo Ramsey. A name like Bo pretty much guarantees that you will be a great guitar player, especially when you dress the part with cowboy hat, shades, and boots. In a few weeks Pieta will be on tour opening for Mark Knopfler (of Dire Straits fame), playing in venues just a bit larger than the crowded nature preserve classroom in Rockford, Illinois where I saw her with fewer than a hundred other people.
Acne
Observation #3: In the far reaches of metro Chicago, as the landscape transitions back to farms and small towns, the occasional McMansions and cul-de-sacs that pop up look much like acne on a teen’s face.
Bad Decision of the Day: Geez, I had so many on this trip, it’s hard to pick just one, but I’ll go with showing up at the Pieta Brown show fatigued. The previous night we had seen William Elliott Whitmore in Keokuk (Iowa) which usually means a late night and a steady flow of drink. Couple a minor hangover with a four hour drive that gets me to the door minutes before show time, and I’m not exactly in the best frame of mind for a concert that features songs that are mostly reflective and slow in tempo. Don’t get me wrong, I was impressed with Pieta and bought a CD, but, to fully appreciate her show, I should have been better rested.
This winter has been dreary—cold, snowy, lots of time spent on marketing instead of writing—so I decided to get started on the next book to boost my spirits. I’m ready to get moving. I have ambitious plans for this year, with two books to market and plans to research and write two more. The third book will cover the Mississippi River from Lansing, Iowa north to Hastings, Minnesota, territory that includes what is arguably the most scenic stretch of the river.
Just another January drive
I had planned to get started after a book event in Iowa, but another major storm forced us to cancel the event. I wasn’t in the mood to stay home, so I decided to hit the road, anyway, even though it meant driving through the tail end of that storm. It really wasn’t too bad; I stuck to the major highways and got to La Crosse (Wisconsin) in about nine hours, only a little longer than it would normally take.
Call me a geek, but it was worth the effort to get the feeling of being back on the road, even if back on the road means spending all day in the library reading local history books. After all, sorting through these old books, it’s not unusual to come across an occasional gem like the picture below.
Put on your mask and celebrate Julebukk!
Julebakk is an ancient Norwegian Christmas tradition that involves dressing up in tacky costumes, wearing a mask to hide the fact you’re wearing a tacky costume, gathering your friends who are all wearily similarly tacky outfits, and harassing your neighbors until they guess who’s who. Yea, it sounds like Halloween, but the prizes are not candy and chocolates but lefse, lutefisk, and grog. I love it, and I think we should all give it a try this year.
I just released a tongue-in-cheek stop-action video describing the philosophy of the Mississippi Valley Traveler. Check it out below. Feel free to praise/lambaste and share with your friends.
Buy a Mississippi Valley Traveler guide book here!
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