By Drew Hanson
The Badger State has little-understood but impressive hiking
foundations. Few states can claim a share of the legacies of
John Muir,
Gaylord
Nelson and
other giants, as Wisconsin can. Plus, we have important groups with
noble histories like the
Wisconsin Go Hiking Club, founded in 1924, Izaak
Walton League, which took critical steps in the 1930s-1950s to support hiking,
and the
Ice Age Trail Alliance, founded in 1958.
As much as there is here to celebrate, there are also mistakes
from which to learn. In this installment of Pedestrian View, let’s look at a
classic Wisconsin hike that was lost to short-sightedness.
On October 15, 1922 a group of Milwaukeeans took a hike in
neighboring Waukesha County. Their story was captured for posterity a few days
later in the weekly newsletter of the Milwaukee City Club. Records saved by the
Wisconsin Historical Society and other online resources show it being a typical
outing of its day.
The group called themselves, “the Outdoor Lifers,” and included
Jerry Sweet, Henry Hase and William Foster—an enthusiastic bunch, no doubt.
Creation of the Kettle Moraine State Forest was still 15
years in the future so the Outdoor Lifers hiked across private land in an era
before ubiquitous “No Trespassing” signs. It’s what everyone did who hiked in
those days. It was a normal 1920’s outing.
The story of their day begins, “Sunday was a day to set the
blood a-racing—blue sky, stretches of sear fields, and woods bursting with
autumn color—and when the Outdoor Lifers stepped off the train at Nagawicka,
Hase bounded to the top of the ski jump to vent his spirits. The hikers struck
across to Government Hill and South Wales. Foster was growing prodigiously
hungry and became fearful whether he had instructed Sweet to bring enough food.
(The rest of the Outdoor Lifers were groaning under the weight of their
provision packs.) Powerful thing, imagination! Bryn Mawr, Welsh for ‘Big Hill,’
was reached at noon.”
After a lengthy scenic hilltop lunch, the crew continued
their saunter. They “reached North Prairie by dark and stopped at a billiard
hall a half block from the station to wait for the train. No sooner had Jerry
Sweet remarked that he never knew a Milwaukee Road train to be on time than it
came tearing in. There was a mad scramble for the station.”
It sounds exhilarating, like the kind of thing many of us
would enjoy today—actually,
do enjoy when visiting other places
in the U.S. and Europe. These days, we must struggle to find all-day hikes in
southern Wisconsin. Indeed, a few weeks ago a friend emailed me about his
daughter and her friends’ interest in a 3-day hike within an easy drive of
Madison as a transition from summer break to college. I informed the friend
that the only meaningful 3-day hikes, or even all-day one-way hikes, in
southern Wisconsin are in the Kettle Moraine State Forest. Compounding the problem
is that backpacking in the Kettle Moraine is so popular that it requires
reservations at rustic shelters that are booked months in advance. The Black
River State Forest might technically fit the bill but its preponderance of
motor vehicles is enough to keep away those who enjoy hearing predominantly
sounds of nature.
It was not supposed to be this way. The State of Wisconsin had
a plan, including a project boundary approved by the legislature, to acquire
the lands needed to protect this classic hike and others. Approved in 1937 the
plan was
rescinded in 1965. The about-face was one big step backward not
just for hiking but also for land and water conservation. What followed was the
slow conversion of most of the lands we today call the Mid Kettle Moraine from
large family farms to cookie-cutter subdivisions. The result: Waukesha is running
out of clean water and a classic hike between Nagawicka and North Prairie is
gone.
Instead of sticking with its
1937 plan to conserve the Kettle
Moraine, the State of Wisconsin has acquired over a million acres of public
access lands elsewhere. How many public places in southern Wisconsin today allow a
person to take an all-day hike without walking in circles? You can count the
number on your fingers.
(Tangentially, considering the public transit used for the
classic 1922 hike, how many all-day hikes in southern Wisconsin are today
served by public transit? Zero. A
1916 railroad map of southeast Wisconsin showing
the extensive public transit options available to anyone planning a hike in 1922
is available from the Wisconsin Historical Society
here.)
In spite of Wisconsin’s impressive hiking foundations, both
major and insidious mistakes were made in the decades since 1960 that have
severely limited hiking opportunities in southern Wisconsin. Sad. Short-sighted. But
don’t lose hope. The future still holds opportunities.
Under Governor Tommy Thompson, in 1990 for the first time
State funds were earmarked for the purchase of Ice Age Trail lands and in 1999 the
longest segment of Ice Age Trail in history was protected in a single
acquisition. Under Governor James Doyle, between 2003-2010, the Wisconsin
Department of Natural Resources made Ice Age Trail land acquisition a priority
and solid progress was made. With political will, momentum could be regained.
In 2009, Congress gave the National Park Service the
authority to acquire land for the Ice Age Trail from willing sellers. But to
date,
NPS has not used this ability to purchase even a single parcel. With
political will, this too could change.
Where the land can be acquired for the public, the Ice Age
Trail Alliance’s
Mobile Skills Crew has shown it can build the highest quality
hiking trail.
The
2018 Wisconsin Statewide Comprehensive
Outdoor Recreation Plan (SCORP) shows hiking/walking/running on trails to be
the most popular outdoor recreation activity in Wisconsin, with 68% of state
residents participating at least once in the last 12 months. Will that significant majority lose or gain hikes in the future?
