What I now understand is that there is a big difference between bike trails in urban Seattle and rural Wisconsin. There is no huge population out here to swamp the trail with users. On top of that the state has hundreds of miles of trail, which disperses the users even further. Many of the users were from out of state, or at least out of the area, so it was indeed a tourist draw.
The trail itself is not paved, but it has a smooth surface of crushed limestone, which has to be a lot easier to maintain in an area where the winters are quite severe. This also limits users to foot and bicycle traffic; there was no one rollerskating, skateboarding, or rollerskiing; it just doesn't occur on a dirt path. Horses are not permitted. There were walkers and there were cyclists, and although there seemed to be many people at both ends and some of the intermediate points, the trail itself seemed very uncrowded.
Another difference is the fee system that the state has instituted, so the users pay the upkeep. $3 for day use and $10 for the year. Seems like a reasonable scheme.
The route itself is very scenic. There are three tunnels to negotiate, the setting is very rural, passing through three small towns between Sparta and Elroy, a distance of 33 miles. Most of the way there was dense cover from deciduous forest, and the forest canopy has created a green tunnel to envelope the cyclists. The day was hot and muggy, but I was not bothered by the heat until I left the trail.
Babcock and Turner have begun to sense that the big city of Chicago looms ahead of them, and are quite eager to arrive and get refitted, both body and bike. But they still keep their good humor:
One day back in Minnesota we concluded that we were on the wrong road. It was a scorching hot day and we disliked to go far in the wrong direction, but we toiled on till off on a cross road we saw a sign. It was several rods away and the road to it was full of sand, but Turner thought it might give us some clue to our whereabouts, and he leaned his wheel against a post and plodded over to the sign. When he returned I asked what he found and as he wiped the perspiration from his face and threw himself down on the grass he replied "That blooming sign down there says 'Go to Davis & Hall's for overcoats,' that's what it says." He doubtless felt as I did one day after having ridden and walked for eight hours without anything to eat. I was extremely hungry and felt through my pockets to see if by chance I could find a stray peanut, a few raisins or piece of chocolate, which we occasionally carry. I found none, but my search brought to light a paper which had been wrapped around some chewing gum. It bore the statement, "This gum aids digestion." It was very comforting in view of the fact that there might not be anything within ten miles to digest.
So it's what we call trail mix that they eat along the road. I never realized that the recipe was from the last century.
Today's distance was 76 miles and I arrived in Richland Center just ahead of the rain. Tomorrow looks like the first day in the wet.
Dennis