Day 11 -- Menomonie to Rhineland, Wisconsin -- 184 Miles

We just settled into camp, ran the sewer and water hoses, and then went for a walk down to the lake. This camp, called "West Bay" for its location on the west end of Wisconsin's Lake Tomahawk, is perhaps the nicest RV campsite that we've visited on our 2019 sojourn to Ohio. We are camped amidst a thick forest (photo lower right), and the camp access road is tiny and twisty and following it had me holding my breath a few times. Once we found our site we discovered that it was a bit out of level, but I was able to quickly level the rig by elevating just one set of dualies on the right rear. It's so quiet here you'd almost guess that all of our very few neighbors must be out on the lake. Last night we had the crying baby and the barking dog in the rig next door, the screaming kids in the nearby swimming pool, and the sounds of dirt-track racers nearby to accompany our forest reverie. But in this camp it's so quiet that the sound of a pine cone landing unexpectedly on the roof made us jump.

So last night's camp in Menomonie was not the greatest, but once the noise died down things got pretty quiet after dark. For some reason, though we didn't enjoy the luxury of full hookups as we most often request, the price at last night's camp was a lofty fifty dollars, which we don't see very often. Still, by the time we got to Menomonie I was pretty darn tired of driving and battling the Interstate. I had earlier tried to leave the interstate and perhaps "stumble upon" a municipal camp somewhere to the north. But after passing through a couple of towns with no success in that area, we gave up, returned to I94 and headed for a camp we knew existed.

The town nearest our camp here is "Rhinelander," which I assume is a variation of the more accurate German word "Rheinlander." We decided to stay here for two reasons: first, Rhinelander had the only RV resort that we could find along our intended route of travel; second, there is supposedly a logging museum nearby. We haven't done the research, so we're not sure where it is, but we are confident it's fairly close and we'll find it tomorrow. We're anxious to see the logging museum here because back in 2015, when we visited such a museum in upstate Pennsylvania, we had a terrific time learning all about the timber business.

Today's drive east, mostly along Wisconsin Route 8, was just downright dreamy. The lightly-traveled highway was lined on both side by pines and a variety of deciduous trees. Our very first discovery on our Route 8 sojourn this morning was the Barron County Cheese Store. It was not my intent initially to stop there, but right next store was what looked like a full-fledged barn sale. Since there is a particular item for which I've been looking for years -- a part to a 150-year-old blacksmith's vise -- I decided to stop in the cheese store's parking lot and walk next door to the barn sale.

Once I had parked, Concetta announced that she wanted to visit the sale as well, then come back and check out the cheese store. Unfortunately, the barn sale turned out to be mostly junk, though had I been closer to home I would have definitely purchased the huge iron kettle for inclusion in Concetta's new rock garden. It just had that sort of "desert environment" look to it. But sadly, what with the Model A seats I had already added to our cargo hold, there was simply no room for a kettle the size of a barbecue grill.

Failing to find anything of interest at the barn sale, we retraced our steps to the cheese store and went inside. There we were greeted merrily by a very Scandinavian-looking young girl who told us to make ourselves at home and if we wanted to taste anything to just let her know. Well, let me just tell you that very nearly everything in the teenager's immaculate store was near and dear to my heart. She had spirits of every conceivable description. She had hand crafted jams containing nothing but cane sugar and the fruit (I bought the peach/raspberry). She had maple syrups handcrafted in Wisconsin and aged in bourbon barrels in what the label termed "small batches." She had new and exotic flavors of ice cream (I tried the Rhubarb concoction which was to die for). AND she had about a zillion different cheeses, most of which you could try if you wanted. Naturally we tried a bunch of them. We both like the combination of Asiago and Parmesan which they call "Parmasio." Believe me when I tell you we could have easily spent much longer in that shop. We came away with several cheeses, a jar of jam, and a bottle of the special syrup and would have purchased more if we had the room.

Somewhat after leaving the cheese store, we came across another opportunity to find the blacksmith vise part when we stumbled upon a junk shop that came complete with an eclectic collection of old vehicles at the edge of the parking lot (photo above right). I stopped, shot some photos of the cars and trucks, then interviewed the shop owner about my sought after part. "Sorry," he said, "but I don't see those anymore. Used to have a half dozen blacksmith vises in here, but I just don't come across them now." I would have liked to stay and tour his massive antiques and junk collection, but decided that after the cheese shop another hour-long visit might not be prudent.

I did get lucky after leaving the junk shop when I found a case for my flip phone. Nowadays it's getting exceedingly difficult to find phone cases for a device that is not in vogue anymore. A couple of days ago we visited a Verizon store in the town of Benson, Minnesota, but he was fresh out of flip phone cases. But today as we traveled up Route 8 we stopped to buy some fresh corn and a cucumber for dinner. As we made our purchases I glanced over the vendor's shoulder and saw that just a few yards away was another Verizon store. This time I got lucky. The store had just what I needed. So now I'm back in business as far as carrying my cell phone with me.

Shortly after the corn, cuc, and cell phone purchases we chanced upon the perfect lunch spot right beside yet another lake (photo left). Though I'm not sure the park manager would have approved, but the only parking provided near the lake was for small autos. But since no one was around to chastise me, I parked across four or five spaces and the view out our lunchtime window was outstanding.

The last lucky break of the day was a garage sale I ran across just as I was beginning to get fidgety from driving too long and wanted to pull in somewhere and stretch my legs. Right at that moment a handy garage sale appeared on the radar screen and I pulled over in front of the house. The elderly female homeowner welcomed me and invited me to wander around at my leisure. I was especially interested in the tools she had displayed. But I soon found out that many of the tools were Asian-made and held no interest for me. However I did manage to pick up a small American-made wrench, a wonderfully heavy and well cared-for pair of wire cutters, and a queer sort of drill chuck on the end of a steel rod that was meant to accomplish some sort of task that so far escapes me. Still, the three tools came to $5.00 and I considered them a bargain.

A short time later we were rolling through Rhinelander and keeping an eye out for the turnoffs being actively dictated by the GPS. Unfortunately, the GPS wasn't exactly on her game this time, and she twice took us to the wrong street and address. Fortunately, however, Concetta had perchance seen a weathered old sign for the very camp for which we searched and directed us to return the way we had come and locate that vintage sign again. We did locate the sign, and following only the sign's directions, we soon found ourselves at the sought-after camp. The office was closed, but the manager had thoughtfully left us the necessary directions to our campsite and after that we were home free.

The key to traveling by RV across this great land of ours is avoid getting too upset when things don't go exactly as planned. I sometimes forget that a cool head generally pulls you through in the end. And, of course, you're much better off if you simply DON'T PLAN too much and simply revel in the serendipity of the experience.

So that's about it for now dear reader. I'm not sure exactly where we'll be headed tomorrow. It may happen that we'll stay another night right here since it's such a nice spot. Concetta tells me that the Logging Museum doesn't open until lunchtime, which would mean that we wouldn't even leave town until mid afternoon. There'd be no chance to put on some miles and reach the next camp. But we'll see. Perhaps there are other attractions hereabouts that we don't yet know about.

And at this point I'll say good night. The Happy Wanderers wish you happy travels and exciting destinations as you, too get out there on the two-lanes and see this big, wide, wonderful country of ours.