For the next fifteen miles we cackled our way through roller-coaster roads with great surfaces, excellent navigation, and stunning forest scenery. Having found the perfect timing point, we decided to celebrate with a cooling drink. This is where the Ridgeline finally earned its keep. Hidden in the bed is a 7.4 cubic foot waterproof compartment with a drain plug, capable of keeping an irresponsible quantity of beverages cold as ice.
Sadly, our refreshment stop was annulled by the mosquitoes and Fred’s increasing need for antihistamines, so we continued to lunch at what he promised was a stylish lakeside resort.
Stylish it was not. Characterful, however, it certainly was. The lake was beautiful, they sold Benadryl, and the proprietress couldn’t have been more welcoming. The rally will be very well looked after here.
About twenty minutes later, we discovered a peculiarity that will cause no end of grief for all the RtG team: Michigan is on Eastern Time, except for a handful of counties bordering Wisconsin. I spent 15 miles convinced I was having a stroke before enough cell service appeared to explain why our phones and wristwatches disagreed.
Next came a raceway inside the Norway county fairgrounds. The oval track, overlooked by vintage whitewashed grandstands, promises close competition and outstanding photography. The cars will look entirely at home here.
Later, frustrated by our lack of success finding additional Regularities, Fred said, “Just indulge me and turn right at the next opportunity.” I am nothing if not indulgent of Fred’s whims. A few kilometres later, we found a wonderful lakeside Regularity that starts gently, lulls competitors into a false sense of security, and then becomes a cracking navigational and driving challenge. We were so pleased with ourselves that we forgot to find an afternoon coffee halt and pressed straight on to USAIR Motorsports Park.
Primarily a karting and drifting facility, the track is managed by Hugh, a dreadlocked and lavishly bearded thirty-something drift king. After a quick inspection, Hugh offered us a ride in one of his 600-horsepower drift cars. Fred, for reasons I will never understand, declined. I donned a helmet and enjoyed the best ten minutes a girl can have in a car.
Our hope, budget permitting, is to run back-to-back Tests with afternoon refreshments between runs, accompanied by a tandem drift demonstration from Hugh and his friends. It’s another highlight of the rally and a genuinely memorable experience at a very welcoming venue.
Hotels in Oshkosh were scarce and expensive at the time of the recce, so we pressed on to Fond du Lac, bypassing the rally’s overnight halt but giving ourselves a head start on the route to Davenport the following day. We had the worst dinner of our entire lives at a Biergarten across from our hotel, where we participated in a pub quiz and scored not a single point.
Wisconsin’s reputation for drinking is so thoroughly supported by data that it is less a stereotype and more a peer-reviewed fact. Fred’s foreign accent and dignified manner proved fascinating to the bar’s more inebriated patrons, whose antics provided outstanding entertainment for your author. I eventually took pity on Fred and dragged him out of there, declining several slurred invitations to join everyone for Karaoke.
As it turned out, I got to experience the karaoke anyway. From the comfort of my bed, I drifted off to the distant sound of an enthusiastic and profoundly off-key rendition of The Bad Touch, by the Bloodhound Gang.
Day 12 – Oshkosh to Prairie du Chien
Another day of blazing sunshine saw us tracking west on quiet backroads. In rural Wisconsin and northern Michigan, all the other cars you pass on the roads acknowledge your existence by raising a palm off the steering wheel and giving it a little horizontal shake. Fred and I are charmed by this habit and have become enthusiastic wavers ourselves, though it took a while to get my navigator fully on board.
We had a peek into a couple of Regularities that didn’t quite work. So Fred was scrambling with maps and an iPad on his lap when he asked me, “Sarah, do you know what a Shamba is in Swahili?” I understand a little Swahili, but nowhere near as much as Fred, so I correctly assumed I was about to receive a lecture on Swahili nouns. You’ll be even less interested than I was to learn that in Swahili, shamba translates to a plot of land used for subsistence farming.
Fred had noticed something called Shamba Safari on his map that was located just after the end of a Regularity we wanted to have a look at. Reckoning it might be a coffee place we could use for a TC, we set a new course and headed into the Regularity. The Regularity turned out to be extremely unchallenging and will probably be called “Shambles Safari” in the roadbook, with penalties tripled for anyone who fails to get a Zero. Disappointed, we pressed on towards Shamba Safari in the hopes of a good cup of coffee.
Shamba Safari does not sell coffee. What they do sell, however, are $10 buckets of chopped carrots and grain that you can feed to African animals on a DRIVE THROUGH SAFARI!!!! We bought a bucket, entered the safari park, and within seconds were surrounded by all manner of horned beasts, who will stick their cute, fuzzy, slobbery heads right into your car window to nibble treats from your fingers. In my delight at feeding and petting these creatures, I neglected to check in with my partner, who was vigorously shouting “No, Help! NO!”, while attempting to roll up his power window across the neck of a juvenile addax.
Despite my clear instructions and demonstrations, Fred experienced the safari with his windows ¾ rolled up, occasionally throwing food out through the window to entice the animals AWAY from the car. At the end of the safari, I fed the rest of the grain to one of the resident giraffes, who allowed me to rest my head against hers and stroke her long face as she snacked. Fred took pictures from a safe distance. We hope to bring the rally here to bask in the absurdity of it all!
Our next stop was a racetrack, but on the way there, we spotted a road that looked too enticing not to investigate. We were glad we looked, because we were rewarded with a great Regularity, that starts on tarmac before becoming gravel and features lots of great corners and countryside views. Shortly thereafter, we arrived at a friendly stock car track that offers a beautifully banked Oval, accessible infield, and interesting parking facilities for one or more possible Tests.
I was famished by then, and Fred’s close encounter with the wildlife must have left him shaken. We found a tacky lunch halt at a wildly popular pizza place and brewery, donned our mandatory paper moose ear hats, and shared a half order of nachos that was enough for 6 people. An EXTREMELY American experience.
The afternoon consisted of another couple of good Regularities, an ice cream halt and a train watching TC in the cute as a button town of Muscoda, and a final afternoon Regularity that we couldn’t make work, but will be a beautiful liaison section with a possible PC. Crews should arrive in Prarie du Chien with ample time to explore the downtown, catch Mississippi river views, shop for essentials, do a cheeky load of laundry, or visit any of the excellent dive bars that line Main Street.
Day 13 – Prairie Du Chein to Davenport
Mornings in Prairie Du Chien are probably beautiful, but we wouldn’t know because I had booked us into a very weird Airbnb half an hour in the wrong direction. The accommodation was a former jail run by some sort of millennial Stonk-Bro who spoke only in corporate sales jargon, and who, as we checked out, was hard-boiling 2 dozen eggs for his Protein-Maxxing diet. When Fred finally decided to start speaking to me again, we agreed that this dude had probably never had a girlfriend and was unlikely to acquire one anytime soon. If romance is a numbers game, hard-boiling twenty-four eggs in a former jail at dawn seemed an unconventional strategy.
Competitors will be relieved to know that I am not in charge of booking accommodation for this rally, and that the hotel in Prairie du Chien is very nice indeed, with fabulous views of the Mississippi River and the quaint downtown.
From there we rolled northward along the Mississippi toward our first Regularity of the day, our final one in Wisconsin. Following the Regularity, we crossed the Mississippi via ferry, receiving hugs and a breakfast snack of licorice (Me) and a wary side-ways glance (Fred) from the very nice ferrymen. An extremely pleasant coffee and regroup halt after the crossing, will be located in a former river warehouse that dates to 1868. In addition to excellent coffee and pastries, competitors will enjoy competing river views and trainspotting opportunities with trains that run right past the front door and through the narrow main street of the town.
