Lost Hike

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?