So you have this vision that you’ll start the a lovely journey, seeing wonderful things, take some creative photos, and provide insightful comments on the passing scene. Then, out of the blue the demons in the computer want to know “what’s the device code?” before it will open the portals of the internet so you can connect to the place where you can share your experiences. What works fine on Saturday night in Indiana is inoperative on Monday morning in Wisconsin, and a day was lost in (thanks to several helping hands) getting back on the air.. Also thanks to my Southern Maryland Blog Support backup for the heads up..
The Journey Begins:
After attending a social event on Friday evening, getting going early Saturday was not in the cards. And, with all those little “Did you get the….”; “Where’s the damn…..”; “how about ….”; and all that stuff, it was mid-morning when we were finally what we considered “ready”. So, with Lattes in the cups, gas in the tank, and bags in the back, the Momster pointed north to begin the first day. Our objective was Richmond, Indiana, the usual layover on the way to Wisconsin. The beltway was negotiated with relatively little issues (thank you Wilson Bridge Construction) and after a while we exited the cities and began enjoying the landscape instead of cement. A great time of year to travel as you can see the changing hues from summer green to gentle beiges, soft browns, muted colors, with the occasional punctuation of a golden or red maple. Of course this was tempered by also watching the back end of 18 wheelers (How’s My Driving?....), the tailgaters, right passers, and all those endearing traits of “other” drivers. I must admit there was a paucity of North Caroliners this time. Whoa – hold it there, we’re out here for esthetics, not traffic aggravations. And so, turning back to the countryside we enjoyed the barns of different construction styles and adornments (we did see an original Mail Pouch). That being said, somewhere along the way, the “are we there yet?” syndrome starts to creep in as white line fever starts to take its toll. So, after a rather grueling 580 miles, we arrived at our spacious lodgings for the evening:
Along with it’s five star dining opportunities
Due to the late hour of arrival, courtesy of the late hour of departure, we didn’t DF or even consider Dining. Crackers and a bottle of Pine Ridge Viognier/Chenin Blanc sufficed to accompany various football games. The next morning, a little better start but still a long road ahead. Plying across Indiana through a bustling Indianapolis preparing for the Colt’s game and up toward the windy city on I65. It’s an interesting thing about travel; there are always stretches of road that seem to be endless. I65 between Indy and Chicago is one of them. Drive two hours. Not a third of the way. Two more – on and on. Not much to see except flat land, trucks, and cars. And for relief there is flat land, trucks, and cars.
Finally, you start the arduous task of negotiating yourself through Chicago. Fortunately we had a Navigation System on board:
To help us through the maze of “XXXX expressway”, heaven forbid you should use numbers, and pausing along the way to keep the economy going.
We must have gone through at least 10(?) of those toll booths, and not one gave us any eye contact or a “thank you”. With a little sign that says “Customer service is our goal!” right over their sullen heads.
Eventually the city of big shoulders is left behind and you approach the northern end of the state
And eventually the objective is in hand –
Gradually the fields of soy and corn give way to rolling countryside with little lakes, more conifers and (surprisingly) a surfeit of fall color but still a more interesting pallet. The route north of Madison to Portage to Tomah is another one of those “it never ends” stretches, although there are some interesting signs extolling the selections of cheeses and sausages at various roadside stops. By this time we were deep into the “are we there yet” mode and the trusty Canon remained bagged. Finally, after 9 hours and 540 miles we arrived at La Crosse to see MFO’s sister and their mother.
At that point and hour, anything but “eating” was not considered, so I sort of steered us into getting take out from Culvers, home of the Butterburger. Somehow, I had missed one of these and this was a good opportunity. So, off we went to one of the nearby outlets. The general concept turns out to be: go to the counter and order, receive a number tag and either go sit down for delivery or wait for the “to go” bag. Over the counter hangs a huge menu board with a (to me) confusing amount of things to choose. You can “assemble your own basket”, get pre-chosen meals, order anything individually, choose your regular or “premium” sides (onion rings are premium), with anything from fries to slaw to green beans to “Cheese Curds” – we’re in Wisconsin, remember?. And, you’re not limited to ground beef and chicken either. There’s roast beef, pork, chili, and hot dogs as well. That bewildering amount of decisions to me made resulted in a crowd of folks standing around (including us) trying to devise an order. Oh, did I mention there is also a selection of drinks from soda to soft ice cream to malts and shakes. It was interesting to note the word “concrete” was floating around. So finally we put together an order, relayed it to the nice young man and eventually left with a bag. Naturally I had to have a single (doubles are available) butterburger, and accompanied it with premium onion rings and a shake.
Does Ted Drewe’s know this is going on?
Pictures 14 and 15 of food..
Other selections taken were a pork loin (fried) and a pulled roast beef. All had to be encased in rolls, apparently. I have not done extensive research (as is my norm) but I never saw any indication what makes it a “butterburger”. I would have to say, that although they do have a wider array of food available, it doesn’t stand above its competitors. Close my eyes, and a butterburger would be indistinguishable from a quarter pounder (well, maybe different condiments) Oh, I don’t know (or maybe don’t want to) know how that little piece of cheese got on top of the bun. It is left for clarity, and wonderment.
Okay, that’s a catch-up, there’s much more to tell about time tripping in LaCrosse, but that will wait till tomorrow..Due to the necessity of visiting “Mom”, who doesn’t get out much anymore, we’re eating in more than out.. so we’re not having to
DFD
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