Beers, bikes and brats: a car-free road trip

By John Greenfield

[This article also appears in Newcity magazine, www.newcity.com.]

If you’re a car-free Chicagoan, you don’t have to hit up Hertz to take a kick-ass road trip this summer. Here in the nation’s railroad hub, bicycle plus train is a powerful combo, not just for getting around the metro area but the entire Midwest.

Case in point is the bike camping trip my buddies and I took earlier this month along the Mississippi River, across Wisconsin and back using Amtrak and Metra. It was our annual Men’s Trip, a chance for the married guys to take a break from family obligations, and since most of them are serious beer snobs we planned out itinerary around brewpub visits. Late spring wind and rain made this tour a bit of a death march, but if you’d like to try the route (www.tinyurl.com/brewpubride) it’d be a blast to ride in July sunshine.

On a Wednesday evening we loaded our touring bikes with tents and sleeping bags and hauled them aboard Amtrak’s Carl Sandburg line to Kewanee, Illinois, near the shoulder of the state. Soon we’re flying west across the prairie past dozens of white modern windmills tinted pink by the setting sun.

When we pull into Kewanee, a sign says we’re in the “Hog Capital of the World,” so down the street at the Pioneer Club I tackle a breaded pork tenderloin horseshoe sandwich. The horseshoe is a downstate Illinois specialty often called “a heart attack on a plate” – white bread, fries and a protein, drowned in cheese sauce.

Woodland Palace, Kewanee

We camp up the road at a park donated to the city by Fred Francis, an oddball inventor, artist, poet and nudist. In the morning I tour Woodland Palace, the futuristic dream home Francis built on the site in 1889, featuring wind-powered heating and cooling systems, automatic doors and many other clever gadgets. I’m most excited to see his bicycle, with a seat installed over the front wheel so he could carry his wife Jeanne to church.


Soon the six of us are pedaling northwest toward the Mississippi in gorgeous weather with the wind at our backs. We reach the Big River near Fulton, a town whose Dutch heritage is advertised by a big, old-fashioned windmill by the levee, surrounded by tulips. Continuing along the Great River Trail we get awesome views of the Mississippi, three or four miles wide in places, and pass the Thompson Correctional Center, an unused prison where Obama proposed housing prisoners from Guantanamo.

We stop for the night for in Savannah at Poopy’s, a complex offering everything a Harley rider might want: motorcycle parts and accessories, tattoo parlor, campground and a pub with a scatologically-themed menu. I shudder at the thought of a huge, hairy biker scarfing down a one-pound burger called the Big Poop, but the menu promises, “A hot cup of joe will get this bad boy sliding south.”

Conditions are a hell of a lot tougher the next day as we grind up steep river bluffs and then zoom down them on the way to Galena under leaden skies. This pretty little city, once home to Ulysses S. Grant, features dozens of perfectly preserved old buildings and lots of boutiques and knickknack shops. At Galena Brewing Company we fortify ourselves against the chilly weather with hearty grub and glasses of Uly’s Dark oatmeal stout.

Main Street, Galena

Soon we’re crossing the “Cheddar Curtain” into Wisconsin, tackling more big hills in a light rain. In the small town of Dickeyville we check out the Grotto, an epic work of outsider art next to Holy Ghost Parish church. Between 1925-1930 Father Matthias Wernerus built several massive shrines to God and America out of stone and mortar, studded with brightly colored glass, semi-precious stones, fossils, seashells, gearshift knobs and more. There are multiple statues of Jesus and the saints, plus Columbus, Washington and Honest Abe.


The stretch from Dickeyville to Potosi is the most beautiful leg of the journey. We roll along curving country roads over lush, green hills with breathtaking river views – it’s like something out of “Lord of the Rings.” Our dinner stop is the Potosi Brewery, founded in 1852, closed in 1972 and recently re-opened by a non-profit foundation – all proceeds go to charity. The beautifully restored pub serves tasty brews and classic Wisconsin fare like pan-fried walleye and beer-boiled brats. The National Brewery Museum is onsite, with fascinating exhibits of “breweriana.”

We camp at nearby Grant River Recreation Area and get poured on that night, but my tiny one-man tent keeps me snug and dry. The next day we turn east, enduring cold rain, a stiff crosswind from the north and nonstop roller coaster hills, except for a stretch along the flat-but-rugged Cheese Country Trail. Our goal is New Glarus, a charming Swiss-themed town that’s home to the New Glarus Brewing Company which refuses to sell its delicious beer outside of Wisconsin.


But by late afternoon we’re soaked and exhausted, so we decide to cut our mileage and detour to Monroe, another Swiss town that’s home to the Huber Brewing Company, which makes house beers for Chicago’s Berghoff Cafe and Billy Goat Tavern. Rather than crawl into wet tents we happily check into a Super 8, order pizzas and ease into the Jacuzzi in our bike shorts, sipping the New Glarus Fat Squirrel Ale we bought nearby.

Courthouse Square, Monroe

In the morning the north wind continues to buffet us as we pedal towards Harvard, Illinois, where we’ll catch Metra home. As usual, I’m bringing up the rear and I get separated from the group as we navigate the Beloit-Rockford metro area. After stopping for a serene picnic besides the Rock River, I take my time pedaling the last 25 miles, still battling the crosswind. A few miles from Harvard I realize that if I hustle I might be able to catch up with my buddies onboard the next train to Chicago. I shift into high gear, stand up in my pedals and sprint. I surprise myself by zooming into the station, drenched in sweat, with seconds left to drag my bike aboard.

Pioneer Club
206 North Chestnut, Kewanee, IL, (309)852-3793

Woodland Palace
Route 34, Kewanee, IL, (309)852-0511
cityofkewanee.com/francis.php

Poopy’s
1030 Viaduct Road, Savanna, IL, (815)273-2363
poopys.com

Galena Brewing Company
227 North Main Street, Galena, IL, (815)776-9917
galenabrewery.com

Dickeyville Grotto
305 West Main Street, Dickeyville, WI (608)568-3119
dickeyvillegrotto.com

Potosi Brewing Company
209 South Main Street, Potosi, WI (608)763-4002
potosibrewery.com

Wisconsin wanderings on two wheels

By John Greenfield

Last week I tried to squeeze the last juice out of the summer with a spontaneous bicycle camping trip around southeast Wisconsin. Each year my co-workers from Boulevard Bikes head up to Waterford, WI, home of Waterford Bikes, about 20 miles west of Racine, for the NAMI charity ride organized by our friend Peter, a former chef at the Handlebar. I decide to bring along camping gear and use this as a jumping-off point for my short tour.

Early Sunday morning eight of us drive up from Chicago with our bicycles to the Waterford high school. The ride is a benefit for adults fighting mental illness, and signs are posted outside the school with the names of famous people who battled depression and other challenges: Tchaikovsky, Darryl Strawberry, Buzz Aldrin, even Dolly Parton.

Photo by Ezra Hozinsky

We ride a 60-mile circular route that takes us on lovely back roads under the brilliant blue, smoke-free Wisconsin sky. We stumble into a parade in the tiny town of Lyons. An old farmer is driving a tractor pulling his nine grandchildren in brightly-colored cars made from oil cans. Clowns cruise by on dazzle-painted bicycles and scooters and a man in rolling along, soaking in a bathtub-mobile powered by a lawnmower engine.


In East Troy we savor roasted corn and root beer while brats sizzle on the grill at a bluegrass festival. On stage a band is playing gospel tunes while elsewhere on the grounds people are jamming secular tunes in song circles. Two parakeets are perched on the handlebars of someone’s mountain bike.


After the ride we enjoy Sprecher beers and a cheddar plate (the first of many samples of local cheese I will enjoy on this trip) at Peter’s parents’ house in Waterford while his brother Tim entertains us with acoustic blues songs on guitar. Then I take off solo 20 more miles west to the southern unit of Kettle Moraine state Forest, a popular mountain biking destination.

I’m using the Bike Federation of Wisconsin’s state bike map and I aim for a teepee icon on the map that suggests a campsite, but when I arrive at sundown, I find the location is only a trailhead. But there are picnic tables and a bathroom, which is all I need for comfortable camping, so I crash there anyway. Two college students from Morengo, IL, are returning to their truck from a bike ride and offer me a Heineken. They’re punk fans, so I try to impress them by mentioning I used to messenger and play shows with guys from the Alkaline Trio.

The next day I head northeast, since I eventually want to make it to Kohler-Andrae State Park, just South of Sheboygan on Lake Michigan. I pass through Wales, a village that was founded by Welsh setters in 1840, where the country’s dragon flag still flies.


I eat a lunch of landjaeger (a dry German sausage), cheese, crackers and apples alongside placid Lake Pewaukee and wind up camping a Pike Lake State Park, making it a leisurely 50-mile day. At the lake’s beach I enjoy that pleasantly existential feeling I get watching the sun go down over water after a day of solo riding.

In the morning, after re-stocking with horseradish cheddar, garlic sausage, stone-ground mustard and cashew brittle at the nearby Cheese Hut, I continue 60 miles northeast towers Kohler-Andrae along back roads. I stop to drink coffee and sun-dry my laundry in Kewaskum, a pleasant enough small town that a friend who grew up nearby calls “Scum Town.” It’s challenging, hilly riding for much of the rest of the trip to the coast, and after I reach the state park and take a quick dip in lake Michigan, I’m happy to lay out my ground pad on the quiet beach and relax.


Kohler-Andrae is a beautiful little park, with similar geography to the Indiana Dunes, but it seems to be a bit tranquil. The next day I take a stroll along the park’s miles of undulating boardwalk to the sound of cawing crows and lapping waves, then get back on my bike and head south along the lakefront. I pass through more European themed towns: Cedar Grove, where I get coffee at the Broken [wooden] Shoe, across the street from a windmill; and Belgium, which doesn’t seem to have a particularly Flemish vibe.


I roll a few more miles along the pleasant Ozaukee Interurban Trail into Port Washington, a delightful little lakeside town that’s the first freestanding city along the lake north of the Milwaukee suburbs. I pick up additional cheese and sausage, this time homemade garlic salami, from Bernie’s Fine Meats, a great old-fashioned butcher shop, as well as smoked trout at Ewig’s Smoked Fish and have another tasty lakeside picnic.

From there I make my way down Lakeshore Road, a popular bike route into Milwaukee where I encounter many folks in spandex on training rides. My friend Dave Schlabowske, the bike and pedestrian coordinator for the City of Milwaukee meets me on the north side of town. He’s coming from a rally on the south side of town where he’d dressed up in a chicken costume and crossed a road multiple times to remind drivers they need to stop for peds in the crosswalk. He’s done this a few times, once dressed like Evel Knievel, bearing a sign saying, “You shouldn’t have to be a daredevil to cross the street,” another time wearing a 12-foot-tall chorizo costume borrowed from the Klements Sausage Company.

Dave escorts me by bike to the Trocadero, a French café where we meet his wife for mussels and frites. I’d been intending to camp at Cliffside Park, 20 miles south of downtown Milwaukee but as the sun sinks and I sip a 9% Belgian beer, the Schlabowskes persuade me to sleep on their couch instead.

I tell them about a new theory I developed on this trip. Is it possible that I consider Wisconsin to be so much fun, that I get so stoked about the scenery and culture and food, because I’m only visiting? Would the excitement wear off if I actually lived here. Liz and Dave look at each other. “Nope,” says Dave dryly in his moderately heavy Badger accent. “Drinking beer and grilling brats – life is pretty good here.”

Schlabowske at sunrise

I need to get back to work at 3 pm the next day so I leave before sunrise with Dave, who always heads to work at an ungodly hour, and then I ride south along the familiar route towards Chicago. I need to get to Waukegan, IL, around noon to catch Metra commuter rail home, so I only stop once in Racine to pick up a kringle, a large ring-shaped Danish pastry that’s a local specialty, for the boys back at Boulevard. Due to a sweet tailwind I make it to Waukegan with enough time to have one last picnic by the marina before hopping the train back to the hustle-bustle of the big city.