WHEELS OF FORTUNE

By CHRIS BUNTING

January 11, 2005 -- EXERCISE in the beer-gut and bratwurst capital of America?

I thought it was an urban myth, too. But Wisconsin’s gorgeous eastern countryside ranks up there with the French Alps and the Hawaiian coastline when it comes to hosting biking excursions.

Thanks in no small part to Lance Armstrong’s superhuman dominance over the Tour de France, testicular cancer and Sheryl Crow’s heart, America has rediscovered its love affair with the bike (if you’re not familiar with the yellow bracelets, you’re in the minority).

I was a tad skeptical when booking my six-day Trek Travel cycling trip around coastal Door County (Wisconsin’s “thumb” jutting in Lake Michigan). After all, I hadn’t been on one of those two-wheeled gizmos since I was eleven, and quite frankly, never, ever had a reason to visit the badger state.

But my tireless guides, Tony and Dan, put my mind to ease right away when they handed out survivor packs which contained a Wisconsin passport, maps, Kleenex, toilet seat covers and disinfectant wipes to treat any possible blood loss. Oh, and don’t forget the local cherry wine—you’ll never go grape again.

First stop was Egg Harbor—a forested hideaway that’s best described as a college town without the college with its art galleries and cafes, and has a population of under 300.

Our small group settled into our home for the next three nights: the B&B-styled Bay Point Inn. We got to know each other over a lunch of German sausages and local micro brews on the patio (the guides can cook, too!).

Before long it was time to meet the machines.

If you’re not familiar with the modern cycling world, know that bikes are not the same as they were when your dad was backing over them with his car. Now they come with Japanese micro-technology for gears and designer graphite frames and cost a small fortune—as in quadruple digits.

            My loaner model was a Trek 5200. After a rather gruesome lecture on why helmets are a pretty good idea, I saddled upon the metal beast and hit the (not so) mean streets of Wisconsin. I quickly learned that jeans, though more fashionable than spandex, are not the best thing to wear when bike riding. Don’t make the same mistake!

Cycling down the colorful coastal backroads, one thing stands out. You’ll pass more butterflies and wild turkeys than you will cars—by about a 1,000:1 ratio.

Ride along for about 29 miles or so and workup an appetite. We had dinner that night at Trio, an upscale steak and fish house.

The next morning we set sail for Washington Island across the straights of “Death’s Door”—which sounds gutsier than it actually is considering we went on a ferry. The island was actually settled in 1815 and has plenty of restaurants, shops and bars to make it the most famous of the Great Lake islands (sorry Put-in Bay). But it was its streets that we craved, and Washington didn’t disappoint.

The terrain is a healthy mix of forest paths, gravel roads and hilly pavement, assume you’ll be covering at least 25 miles. Along the way we discovered an ostrich farm among other interesting eye-catchers but the picnic lunch at the observation tower was certainly the highlight.

We returned to the mainland later in the evening for a local pastime: a fish boil. This Scandinavian tradition is where local chefs fry up whitefish over bursting open flames. It’s more exciting than it sounds.

The next destination was Kohler, outside of the city of Sheboygan. 

The name of this village might invoke images of toilets in your mind—but that wouldn’t offend its citizens. Kohler is home to the country’s largest plumbing company of the same name, and it’s where you’ll discover the lavish five-diamond American Club.

            But before you can relax in luxury, you’ll have one of the longest riding days—it’ll be 42 miles of city and highway pedaling before you’ll reach the Maritime Museum in Manitowoc (which offers a submarine tour, but I passed out in the grass). After lunch, if you can still stand, you have the opportunity to ride 30 miles more to the American Club. Remember there’s no shame in jumping in the van instead and napping.

            That evening we headed over to the prime-rib specialists at the Blackwolf Run, near the hotel. At the restaurant’s bar, where we met the eccentric ex-Humboldt hippy turned Trek CEO, I noticed everyone was drinking beer. In Wisconsin, it’s either beer or milk, nothing else is worth drinking. So I had to walk the barmaid through blending a margarita; but well worth the wait.

            The next day was a great low-key ride through Sheboygan Marsh Park. The paved path might be a little damp, even in the middle of summer (I took a bit of a spill); just take it slow. The views of the lake are spectacular.

Cap the day off with a round of golf at Whistling Straights which runs along the shore and dive into the wine and cheese tasting later on at the American Club—all your war wounds will quickly be forgotten. Mine sure were.

            The final day is maybe the best—a looping ride through the tranquil countryside of rural Kohler. I was first to the BBQ lunch (kabobs and plates of meat and cheese shaped like barns) and earned a yellow jersey for my effort (the guides had a great sense of humor)—finally, I was keeping up.

Unfortunately, too many beers at lunch resulted in me getting lost on the way back to the hotel. No worries. Wisconsinites might be the friendliest people on Earth and they’ll happily guide you to wherever you need to go.

            Milwaukee’s airport is where I parted ways with the group with a new respect for the sport and the state. Despite the burning in my legs, blood blisters on my palms and the bike seat’s bruising of certain parts of my anatomy guaranteeing that my bloodline dies with me, Wisconsin more than pedaled its way into my heart.

Info: trektravel.com