Got milk?

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

LAKE DUBAY, WISCONSIN — Tonight we are camping in the heart of dairy country, and somewhere in the neighbourhood there is a cheese outlet where eight-year-old cheddar cheese and curds are for sale. If we were to pass it, I’m sure Val would find it impossible not to turn in and see about sampling some!
We are a few miles south of Wausau, which is more or less south of Thunder Bay. It was a good day of travel, and our timing was pretty good in getting to the site as well; about 20 minutes after we got set up, the skies opened with pouring rain and hailstones and crashing thunder! It was the first rain we had seen since we were in northern BC. The temperature had reached above 90, so the rain helped cool things down considerably.
Once we’d had our supper, we went for a walk through the campsite and down to the lake. There are lots of sites amongst tall, straight pine trees. Most of the campers appear to be from the local area, as the trailers are well-established with little fences and decks around them. There is a big boat ramp down to the water, and when we got there, the sky was a lovely pink as the sun was setting. Lake DuBay is more than 6,000 acres in size, and we have crossed two bridges over it before we got to this point. There are boats tied up by the campground, and the lady at the registration desk said the fishing is pretty good — but the catching is another issue altogether!
We left in good time this morning, continuing our journey along the I-90 past lots of cornfields and other crops. (Yesterday we passed the turnoff for a small town called De Smet, where author Laura Ingalls Wilder lived. She wrote Little House on the Prairie and a number of other books, and it was clear she had written about what she knew.)
After an hour or so we turned off the highway in search of fuel. We always have to look hard to ensure that the gas stations we select do, in fact, sell diesel fuel. In the US it seems to be a convention that the pump where diesel is available has a green handle, so that helps a lot. They are also pretty good about posting the word DIESEL in big letters under the station name. When you have a 32-foot rig dragging along behind you, you don’t want to have to meander about looking for the right pump!
We turned in to the station and there was a bank of pumps in front, but no green handle could we spot. There were all kinds of 18-wheelers parked behind the main building with their engines running, so we figured there must be diesel somewhere. Finally I went inside to ask where we could fill up, and was directed to another bank of pumps to one side, separated from the gas area by large concrete barriers. So around we went, and pulled up to a pump. We were a bit uncertain, because the majority of customers there were semi truck drivers, but there was one family-sized pickup at a pump, so we figured it would be OK.
No such luck. The pump was calibrated for the cardlock system, and a humble pickup driver need not apply! After discovering this, we saw the other pickup driver back out and speed off down the road, so he must have been as frustrated as we were. We ended up backing out (which meant I had to climb out and watch that we wouldn’t run in to anything) and going to the station on the other side of the road. It was the first, and I believe the last, time we would visit that particular brand of fuel provider!
The flat, open land began to descend and wind until we came to a large bridge that took us across the Mississippi River once again — we crossed its headwaters on our way west three months ago, but the famous waterway was quite a bit wider at this point than it was further north. The river is the dividing line between Minnesota and Wisconsin, so when we got to the other side, we were in a new state.
Tonight the Interstate is far enough away that our slumbers will not be punctuated with the singing noise of rubber on concrete. There is a delicious peace around us with only the faint sound of crickets chirping away in the darkness.