Neenah Road Trip 2007

Thursday I drove down to the Beck Farm to see Rick and his dad. It was near rush hour, so I said to myself and my dog, "There is NO WAY I am going to drive US 41." Buddy didn't seem to care, so we drove out to Oneida and took E to Freedom and turned west on S. This was fine; the traffic was modest to slight and the scenery is good. I can never remember the name of the road we turn on but I have a picture of the intersection in my head. As we got close to the turn I saw Laird Road go by. (That and Rock Road are the old road.) I said to Buddy, "We could have turned there. But it is probably faster to use the straight roads."

Up the hill we drove. I'm looking diligently. "Where is the road?" I ask, pointlessly. "I know we are almost to the corner ... Oh! there it was!" I almost stopped and turned around, but then I thought, well, why not just go to the next intersection and turn back around? So we rode farther west on S. The sun is out, the skies are clear, the road is open, and the countryside is so picturesque it's painful. I could hardly stand it.

Highway S winds a bit looking for another road to meet, and finally intersects with itself in the guise of Rock Road. We turn back east, still winding through painfully, exquisitely perfect landscapes, until we reach ... the road. There are no street signs or highway markers. Fortunately, I have a picture of the road in my head and we turn south toward Greenville.

Before Greenville, of course, we intersect that other county trunk and follow it, for at least 75 feet, to highway 76, which we intersect on the curve with minimal visibility in either direction. But no one is on the highway in either direction. I notice this because we are completely, totally, and unexpectedly safe as we continue south. It did occur to me to wonder, vaguely, why there was so little traffic, but rather than pondering the point we simply enjoyed the trip.

Until I see a bright orange sign: Road Closed Ahead, 1 mile. Bridge Out. I don't recall any bridge on the way to Greenville. "Let's go on and see what's up," I said to the dog, who still didn't care. Soon we drove past another orange sign: Road Closed Ahead, ½ mile. Bridge Out. On we went. Soon another sign: Road Closed Ahead, ¼ mile. Bridge Out.

"I think," I said to Buddy, "that we'd better turn off here."

Westward again, until we reach Julian Drive. Then south, and south, past the Methodist Church, past School Road, and why turn yet? Southward past the Julian Homestead, which I take to be the primary tourist attraction in those parts (other than the BP station). Eventually I judge that we have travelled far enough. I turn east to meet a broken highway 76. Which we merrily cross, the street sign saying nothing about a state highway. A couple hundred feet farther east and I say, "Buddy, I think that was the road. Yup, that had to be the road." We continue east, seeking a promising road south. Not too much farther along, we find one which takes us not only southward but about 80 years back in time and, fortunately, also to a road which runs west back to 76, the Farm, and the Beck boys.