5/22/2020 - 5/24/2020
I'll definitely expand upon this when I get the chance, but... long story short:
As planned, I cycled all the way from Madison to Milwaukee and back again. It took two and a half days, and I covered just over 190 miles.
D1: 53 miles D2: 74 miles D3: 65 miles
5/25/2020
Today, I took a walk at Rock Lake, and briefly swam in the cold water.
It's really time I expanded upon this story, as I promised I would. As I mentioned before, for the past several weeks I've been feeling restless. The initial urge to get outside has been consumed by an overwhelming need to explore. Thankfully, those goals overlap. I've been thinking up crazier and crazier ideas for trips and holidays, and it occurred to me that some of these things could be achieved practically in my backyard. It was thus that I thought up my idea for a bicycle tour from Madison to Milwaukee and back during Memorial Day Weekend.
A bit of background: since moving to the Madison area, I've heard talk about a bike trail that runs the length of this trip. After conducting a bit of research, I found that the trail - the Glacial Drumlin State Trail - goes the majority of the way, though not all the way. Thankfully, however, there are trails within Madison that nearly make it to the Glacial Drumlin trailhead, and on the other side - following a brief gap in Waukesha - the New Berlin and Hank Aaron trails complete the trek, depositing you in downtown Milwaukee itself. The total distance is 91.6 miles there, and accounting for a few deviations for restrooms, water refills, campsites, and cycling around Milwaukee, you're looking at about 195 miles round trip.
While I had originally planned to break it down into three days - Saturday (cycle to Milwaukee), Sunday (explore Milwaukee), and Monday (cycle home to Madison) - I decided instead to leave half a day early. I chose to do this because the majority of my colleagues at work had taken the day off entirely, and so I wasn't able to get as much done myself. Moreover, everything was packed, the weather was perfect, and I wanted to not only give myself an extra day camping, but ease the burden of the ride to give myself some margin for error. Before leaving work, I made sure to print off a few route maps to take with me. I drove home from work, picking up an extra saddle bag at the store on my way home, reallocated some cans of soup from my backpack to the new saddle bag, and took off. On the way out, a neighbor asked me where I was going, and I replied simply "Milwaukee." He didn't even blink. I suppose he's gotten used to my crazy ideas these last few months when he helped me carry my kayak up and down the staircase in the apartment building and cycled around the park together.
I live in a suburb on the west side of Madison, so it took me some time to reach Cottage Grove where the Glacial Drumlin trail begins. This first part of the trip includes a route I have cycled many times before, albeit in reverse: through the University of Wisconsin: Madison, down State Street to the Capitol Square, to the Monona Terrace and around the southeast side of Lake Monona. Right as I reached the end of that segment, I knew I'd have to turn off the trail at some point to get to Cottage Grove, but wasn't sure what that turn off was. I pulled out my bag, making an initially cursory but then more desperate search for my maps as I came to the realization I must have left them at home. I wasn't going back. Thankfully, I was able to ask a stranger for the way, and found myself going down Cottage Grove Rd. From there, I took out my phone and navigated the rest of the way. I didn't want to waste unnecessary battery, but I did need to find the trailhead.
When I finally got to the trailhead of the Glacial Drumlin state trail, my first thought was one of crushing disappointment. I had assumed the trail would be paved, making it easy to coast on the straights and downhills, and reducing the effort to bike the uphill sections. Instead, the trail was a course gravel, of the sort I'd have to have mountain bike tires for, and I immediately started working out what my best plan of action would be. I wondered just how much more difficult the bike tour would be with this terrain, and if I'd be able to cycle roughly parallel to it on paved country roads. Nevertheless, I started on my way, pulling myself up a steep incline before slowly descending the other side. To my welcome surprise, after traversing that first hill and turning a corner, the trail became paved for a small segment, and then reverted to a super finely packed dirt and fine gravel surface. I was relieved when I saw this surface stretch into the distance, because I could easily handle it. If anything, it was actually nicer than a paved trail, both for the aesthetic and for the grip.
The trail out of Cottage Grove is incredibly straight. There were several dozen people in the first mile or so, running, cycling, or just walking with their dogs or friends. But from there, the people thinned out. I found that around each town, there would be a handful of people, and perhaps one or two whenever the trail crossed a country road, but much of the way was remarkably quiet. I would ride for several miles without seeing anyone else, listening only to the wind, the birds, and the sound of my own - increasingly ragged - breathing. The trail was very nice, peaceful, and beautiful. Wild flowers grew on both sides, and a dense canopy of foliage hung above, shrouding the path in vivid greens. Every so often, I'd come upon a view of a farm, with vast plowed fields and gigantic linear irrigation equipment at a standstill over them. Every few minutes, I would cycle through a cloud of gnats or mosquitoes, accidentally breathe a few in as I gulped for air, and found myself swatting my arms to get any that had landed there off. My arms became sweaty, with small black spots where I had crushed insects.
At some point, the trail exited the fields and trees, and entered the Lake Mills Wildlife Area, also named Zeloski Marsh. The wooded canopy fades and clear blue sky could be seen from horizon to horizon. The trail stays the course, remaining nearly perfectly straight, but the scenery changed to a freshwater marsh, with lush green grass on both sides and canals of sitting water. I could see geese and goslings, cranes, ducks, and herons, red-winged blackbirds, and yellow warblers. I found a small wooden bench and enjoyed a late afternoon snack.
After continuing, I passed through Lake Mills and saw Rock Lake. The trail passes directly over the neck of the lake on a wooden bridge, and I saw a cozy spot to off to one side of the path with a picnic table, a view of the lake, and a spot to enter the water. I knew I would return (more on that later). Lake Mills looks like an incredibly nice town, and of all the lakes I've seen so far in Wisconsin, it's felt the nicest. I suppose I'd only prefer if there were more sailboats instead of motorboats, and more windsurfers instead of jet skis. After passing through some road construction, I continued along the path, making my way out of town.
After Lake Mills, the trail really became quite sparse. I likely cycled about a dozen miles between each stranger I saw. The trail returned to the wooded foliage and occasional farm as the scenery continued to roll by. One thing I hadn't been prepared for was just how much my seat would begin to hurt as I continued. I suppose I just don't have a sufficient build-up of strategic callouses in all the right places yet. I also felt a bit more strain in my knees than usual, and found my elbows also became quite sore as the day wore on. As such, the longer I cycled, the more frequent breaks I took, the more water I drank, and the slower I became. While normally I can easily maintain roughly 12 mph, when weighed down with supplies, clothing, and camping equipment, I found my average speed to be just eight or nine miles per hour, which I was frankly still quite happy with.
One of the really nice things about the Glacial Drumlin Trail is that it avoids as many big roads as it can, but when it does hit one, it makes it very easy to cross. After Lake Mills, the trail passed over Highway 26 as I made my way towards Jefferson. Just on the other side of the highway overpass, I was struck by the visual monstrosity of a tremendously ugly, gigantic, and seemingly abandoned building. It had massive monolithic walls of concrete and was surrounded by a barbed wire security fence and what appeared to be a tailwater basin. At the time, I thought it might have been a communal grain silo or an old power plant. As I later learned, it's an ethanol plant.
In Jefferson, there's a small gap in the trail, and I cycled along the side of a country road, passing stereotypical American houses with big yards. There was one house at the top of a gradual hill with several kids playing in the yard, all of whom eyed me suspiciously. In the yard of another house were roughly a dozen wooden well-tops, likely intended to be crafty planters or bird feeders. It seemed like a quiet, backwater town, but I had to remember it wasn't nearly as remote as I was imagining. Located just minutes from Highway 26 and located less than an hour by car from either Madison or Milwaukee, it wasn't really that far from the cities. It was just my new warped sense of distance by bicycle that was making it feel so distant. Not before long, the trail resumed, picking up just as it had left off, with wooded foliage, wildflowers, and birds.
My original goal was to make it to Lapham Peak Backpacking Campground to make camp, but as I continued, I came to realize that would likely not be possible. I was still roughly 20 miles away, and I was much more tired than when I had started. Evening was clearly on its way, and the sun was low on the horizon. Thankfully, in such a lonely area, with thick foliage on both sides of the trail, I knew it would be easy to find a stealth camping site. The general idea with that is to find a spot that's off the main trail so as not to be seen by anyone - whether that be pedestrians or cyclists, landowners or law enforcement. Additionally, you make camp quietly, don't have a fire, and leave the land without a trace early the next morning. I'm not one to advocate trespassing and soliciting - so make your own decisions - but I personally see little harm in stealth camping so long as it is done respectfully.
I began searching for a suitable place to do just that. Unfortunately, the land to both sides of the trail was essentially a bog, with thick mud and standing surface water. This continued for miles, and I didn't even notice that I had passed through Helensville except for an old silo next to the path and an old train tunnel that I passed through. The sun set, the air cooled, and the sound of insects became increasingly evident. At long last, I found what seemed like an almost ideal spot. There was an unused field of yard-high grasses, a number of small trees, and a Wisconsin farmhouse far in the distance. In my exhaustion, I deliberately chose to ignore the posted No Trespassing sign, made my way off the trail, and found a secluded spot in a tiny meadow surrounded by the small trees. I began to roll out my tent, prepare the structural supports, and was about twenty percent done with setting up my campsite when I heard voices, and froze. A minute later, I heard someone pop off two rounds, and a deer leap out of the undergrowth not fifty feet away from me, run across the field, and disappear once again. I cursed under my breath; serves me right. I wasn't in the mental state to risk having to calmly explain my presence to a landowner with a gun, so I hurriedly grabbed my things and got the hell out of there. I didn't even bother re-rolling my tent, instead simply holding it in one hand as I continued onwards along the path. I made it several more miles, passing a creepy car junkyard and the town of Sullivan. About a mile past Sullivan, I found the ideal campsite. A small game trail led just over a small knoll and fallen tree trunk to a flat, dry, forested area with no line of sight to the trail, to any neighboring farms, businesses, or houses, and was perfectly quiet.
I made camp by laying down a tarp, setting up my tent on top, and by throwing - and tying down - a tarp over the top. I was extra prepared because there had been a rain forecast for all three days of my trip. I locked my bicycle to a tree and stowed all the food, water, flashlights, maps, and other supplies inside the tent, before crawling in myself and curling up in my sleeping bag. It wasn't very late, but it was dark, I didn't have much to do, and I was terribly exhausted after several hours of work and nearly twice as long on the trail. After briefly looking at some maps to see how far I'd come, I messaged my friends and family to let them know I was well, and quickly descended into a deep sleep.
~~NOT DONE~~
My current weight is just over 220lbs, and while I'm unsure what my blood pressure is, I'm absolutely certain that my recent workouts don't even come close to measuring up. Thankfully, these are all interrelated to fitness in general. If I can decrease my weight by roughly 15lbs, increase my fitness and endurance, and improve my blood pressure within the next 2.5 years, I'll meet the basic requirements, assuming I keep my job. What's important is that these metrics are under my control. Of course, simply meeting the minimum requirements likely won't get me very far in the application process, but it'll at the very least get me considered. I'm going to have to do more research into what the spaceflight physical exam entails.
