Slow Down and Enjoy the Ride

Across the Fence #382

Several years ago we were on our way back to Madison one Sunday afternoon after spending the weekend in Westby. As we got closer to Madison, the traffic increased and people seemed in much more of a hurry. I could feel my body tensing up as I melted into the rushing stream of humanity. The relaxed state I’d been in during the weekend was disappearing. I remarked to Linda, “We’re not in Timber Coulee anymore.” A reference to Dorothy’s line in the Wizard of Oz, when she says they aren’t in Kansas anymore.

That weekend, we had spent time in Timber Coulee, between Westby and Coon Valley, a picturesque area that reminds me of Norway. Many people who settled in those valleys, surrounded by majestic hills, emigrated from Norway. It’s no wonder they chose the area as their new home. A winding blacktop road runs through the valley. A wonderful trout stream meanders back and forth, running under bridges that weren’t present to help those early settlers in their travels. Scattered farms line the road. The steep hills remind me that life was not easy for the farmers who tilled this land and raised their families in the coulees.

County Highway P snakes it’s way down winding hills from Coon Prairie to the valley floor of Timber Coulee, where the ski jumping hills are located. I also remember the many cross-country ski races I’d taken part in among those hills. We continued our winding drive that day, up hill and down. I remarked to Linda that when we had roller ski races from Coon Valley to the ski hill on this road, I was too busy racing to appreciate the beauty of the country we were traveling through.

Near Coon Valley, I decided to take a different route back to Westby. I’ve never been accused of always taking the same road or path in my travels. I like to travel the scenic routes, which used to drive the kids crazy. I headed up the winding road to Spring Coulee Ridge Road. At the top of the ridge, the views are majestic as you look down through the valleys and all the connecting coulees. It reminds me of Norway.

Across Lovass Ridge, we headed back to Westby. Things were quiet and laid back for a Saturday evening as we rolled slowly through town. There are no stoplights to halt your progress. There are only three stoplights in the entire county, all of them in Viroqua.

Heading south out of Westby on Coon Prairie Road, we turned east on Gilbertson Road. It eventually joined Nustad Road and the top of the ridge where we have ten acres of Sherpe woodland.

Past the woods, we ventured down the steep hill into the Kickapoo Valley. Turning north on S, we followed the winding road along the banks of the West Fork of the Kickapoo River. The gently flowing “creek” is where our families and “Hanson” cousins gathered for picnics in the summer. We’d fish or wade in the water while the grown-ups visited and set the food out on blankets. They’d keep a close eye on us because I don’t think any of us cousins could swim. An occasional snake joined us and we’d all panic!

We drove to Bloomingdale and up a steep, gravel road to the old Bloomingdale Church that overlooks the village. It’s where my mother attended and my great-great grandparents on her father’s side are buried. Bloomingdale is filled with a lot of early family history for us.

Left on P, we continued up Clockmaker Valley, another beautiful area of winding country roads, surrounded by hills and woodland. A traveler in a hurry would never venture along these roads. That’s OK with me. I don’t want someone tailgating me as I drive leisurely along country roads. As we came up out of the valley and back onto Coon Prairie, a farmer on a John Deere tractor, waved as we passed. We waved back.

Darkness was settling in as we returned to our room at the Old Towne Motel south of Westby. We walked next door to enjoy the Saturday night Prime Rib Special at the Old Towne Inn. If you want a great dining experience, I would highly recommend it. It’s located across the road from the farm my great grandfather, Hans Hanson Sherpe, bought when he came from Norway in 1861. It remained in the Sherpe family until my Dad’s cousin, LaVerne Sherpe died.

On Sunday afternoon we headed back to Madison, leaving the coulees, hills, and prairies of Vernon County behind us and joined the speeding mass of humanity heading south on Highway 14. I wondered if they were taking time to notice and enjoy the beautiful scenery around them. As the tempo of traffic increased, I was reminded of the saying, “Life’s not a dress rehearsal.” This is the only chance we get. Don’t miss the main act.

Now that we live on the farm I grew up on, we can travel the roads through the coulees and hills of Vernon County every chance we get. It’s wonderful! No matter where you live, or what roads you may travel in your life, I hope you won’t rush through them. Slow down, greet your fellow travelers, enjoy life, and have a great ride.

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