Travel in the Time of Covid-19

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Courtesy Good Free Photos by Yinan Chen

In a year when, more than ever, we need diversions from life’s continuing challenges, travel options seem less than comforting and, in some cases, just plain uncomfortable.

The 2020 editions of both Summerfest and the Wisconsin State Fair evaporated, yet Walt Disney World in mid-July reopened its Orlando theme parks despite Florida’s historic surges in COVID-19 diagnoses. Wisconsin, too, has struggled to flatten the COVID curve, but that didn’t stop Wisconsin Dells from opening its doors. The Dells’ television tourism ad campaign alternated airtime with network news footage of large Dells waterpark crowds playing uncomfortably close together despite the park’s attempts at social distancing, another example of bad Badger State behavior.

Many Wisconsin tourism concessions are still limited or closed, offering in-state travelers fewer vacation options. Struggling with destination choices for our Wisconsin getaway, we turned to the state’s best features—its natural beauty—as respite. Results were mixed, but creativity helped spin obstacles into opportunities to facilitate our journey.

It’s a great river, but the road? Not so much

Given that Wisconsin is bordered by two the three largest Great Lakes—Michigan on the east and Superior on the north—it’s easy to forget that the Mississippi River, our country’s longest river, comprises much of the state’s western border. State officials capitalized on Big Muddy’s proximity by creating The Great River Road, Wisconsin’s only scenic byway. The River Road, really State Highway 35, runs 250 miles from Wyalusing State Park in the south to the town of Prescott just across the river from St. Paul, Minnesota, and the Mississippi’s headwaters, in the north.

Wyalusing offers breathtaking views of the Mississippi River Valley from atop its 500-foot cliffs, straddling the confluence of the Wisconsin River as it flows into Big Muddy. As a gateway to the River Road, the view couldn’t be more impressive. But the actual road itself wasn’t the balm our souls were seeking.

For us, the road got underway in Prairie Du Chien, the state’s second oldest community after Green Bay. We prepped ourselves by taking Highway 60, which follows the Wisconsin River’s twisting path from Spring Green through the Driftless Region’s dramatic landscape before turning north onto Highway 35. We even downloaded the Wisconsin Department of Tourism’s audio guide for the route. Unfortunately, it didn’t really help.

The road is wide but parallels an active railroad corridor that effectively separates motorists from easy river access. Most of the 33 towns along the way—or at least the ones that we saw—seemed devoid of amenities or interest. The guide’s historical narration offered tips on sailing river barges or recounted the subjugation, deportation and eventual extermination of the area’s indigenous Sauk and Fox Indian tribes, a story alarmingly out of step with the current political climate.

We hoped the northern leg of journey would prove more interesting, but our progress was halted in Genoa, just south of La Crosse. Road construction, scheduled through November, detoured us 20 miles inland and upland to Viroqua, a town best known as home to The Driftless Café, which earned a 2017 James Beard Award nomination for chef/owner Luke Zahm. The Vernon County restaurant, which draws heavily on area organic farms, is open for business despite the pandemic.

By then we had tired of the Great River Road, so being diverted into the heart of the Driftless Region, the area of the state not scoured flat by ancient glaciers, was a delightful surprise. We had hoped for interesting, maybe even spectacular natural terrain, and the region’s high bluffs, deep valleys and rocky outcroppings didn’t disappoint. Things started to improve.

The Devil’s in the details, and the rock formations

But our Driftless Region detour was still part of a six-hour windshield tour that left us exhausted and unsatisfied. We longed for physical contact with nature, somewhere we could exercise our legs and get our hands dusty. The bluffs at Devil’s Lake State Park, just south of Baraboo in Sauk County, seemed a good way to scratch that itch.

The largest and most popular Wisconsin state park, Devil’s Lake itself is ringed in 500-foot-high quartzite bluffs which draw everyone from casual hikers to experienced rock climbers, several of whom have fallen to their deaths since the park was founded in 1911. The glacially formed lake’s name comes from a misinterpretation of the Ho-Chunk name “Spirit Lake”, and effigy mounds can be found throughout the 9,217-acre park.

We had hiked the bluffs over the decades with our friends, our kids and even our dogs, but under pandemic rules things have changed. Devil’s Lake’s popularity means occupancy limits apply. Weekday visits tend not to be a problem, but weekends fill up quickly, so it’s wise to check the state DNR website. 

Masking and social distancing are strongly encouraged, just like other state parks. 

In addition, admission payments aren’t available at park entrances. Season passess are required and available in advance. Find out more information and purchase passes here or by calling 888-305-0398.

Such small inconveniences, I thought as I lounged on a large rock on the East Bluff Trail high above the lake and looking out at the South Baraboo Range, of which the park is part. Few Wisconsin sights parallel this one, and our visit brought back a flood of memories.

We traveled a variety of trails in the park, with those along the bluff’s edge most heavily populated. We took the rocky cliff face path to the top of the East Bluff and the equally rocky switchback down to the south shore of the lake. Then it was a long, lazy walk along the shoreline to the West Bluff, an easier ascent, but not without both its charms and challenges.

Once we descended at the north shore where we had started and reached the beach, hiking gear came off for plunge into the lake’s chilling waters, washing away the climb’s sweat and grime with a refreshing splash. Few if any other hiking options in Wisconsin offer the same combination of sensations.

Star light, star bright, it’s the only park you’ll need at night

We found our hearts once again on the bluffs and in the waters of Devil’s Lake. We hadn’t lost them so much as saw them pushed them aside by the pressing social issues we all currently face. Getting physically in touch with Wisconsin’s beauty brought them back to the forefront where they belong, a careless oversight we’ll never have again.

But our journey isn’t finished. Our next stop will be Newport State Park on the northeastern tip of Door County overlooking Lake Michigan. The 2,373-acre wilderness park in 2017 received designation as the 49th member of the International Dark Sky Association, a worldwide group of wilderness areas whose absence of artificial light allows for maximum viewing opportunities of the night sky’s stars and constellations.

Park rangers are often on hand with telescopes to facilitate celestial exploration, but park-goers also are encouraged to bring their own equipment. Our goal is to hit the park August 11-13 when the annual Perseid Meteor Shower is at its height. Nothing in the heavens is guaranteed, but past meteor showers have often arrived on schedule. If the weather cooperates with clear skies this year’s celestial event should be a sight to see, reminding us all of our places in the universe.

And who knows? At Devil’s Lake we reclaimed our hearts. Maybe Newport will help us rediscover our souls.

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