A Narrative Essay Assignment - Wisconsin Death Trip

Nobody died... Actually there were a few crashes, but nothing too serious. This ride is called "Wisconsin Death Trip" in reference to the Static X song and the book by the same name which chronicles the secret history of life in Black River Falls, Wisconsin, circa the late-1800s and early-1900s. For whatever reason, the seemingly cozy Hamlet of Black River Falls, its population largely comprised of Germans and Scandinavians, became a haven for the mentally ill, teenage random murderers, lovesick suicides, baby killers, a brick throwing-coke-snorting anarchist, and a host of other bizarre and aberrant behavior that ultimately said more about the populace than any sentimentalized portrait of earnest, God-fearing country people ever could.  This ride takes place in the same area that the book talks about, so that’s how the ride got its name.  The book is basically a collection of photos and related newspaper clippings that document the strange happenings in this area and show that the "Good old days" may not have been that good at all.

The Wisconsin Death Trip Dual Sport Rally developed as the result of a few private conversations thrown around at the Central Adventure Dual Sport Rally in Eagle River last month between a few friends, myself, and my life partner Jay.  Jay and I had been thinking about throwing a dual sport rally together anyway, so the stars aligned and everything sort of rapidly fell together. Jay said we could base this rally out of his cabin and also ride some of his land as well.  This motorcycle rally was beginning to shape up quite nicely. Jay and I went to the cabin early on Friday afternoon to unlock the gate and set up the sound system for the after ride party.  Just as we got everything completely set up and the campfire blazing, our guests started rolling in, trucks and vans with motorcycle trailers and people setting up tents and campers almost as far as the eye could see.

The plan was for Jay to lead the expert riders through 36 miles of Jackson County single track, while I led a couple of the less experienced riders on a much slower paced pavement and gravel road ride.  For those of you who don’t know what single track is, I guess it can be described as something similar in size to a deer path through the woods, winding up and down hills through tight trees, over rocks, sand, mud and streams. We had a total of 16 bikes start the ride Saturday morning, which was a great turn-out considering this event was planned with very short notice.  Jay gave a speech before the ride; “This IS NOT a race and if it was you can only win if you finish, so make it back safe.” Everyone agreed it was good advice and jumped on their motorcycles and rode off.  We all met back at the cabin late Saturday afternoon for food and drinks and to share exciting stories about the events during our rides.  There were also numerous miscellaneous micro-adventures on that night but for the purpose of this story you will just have to take my word for it. Needless to say, there wasn’t much sleep to be had that night, but the food; good times and libations were abundant. Apparently at some point during the night I decided it would be a good idea for me to ride single track in the morning. I haven't ever ridden my motorcycle on single track, a mountain bike; yes, I had even hiked it in the snow; but up to this point I had always considered single track dual sport riders to be insane people with a death wish. 

We woke up early Sunday morning to plan the ride for the day. I have to admit I was completely intimidated about what I said I would do, I was convinced my riding skill level was nowhere near good enough to survive single track.  By this time my headache was at a loud jack hammer sounding pound from the adult beverages that barely just stopped flowing a few short hours before. I started to think to myself; maybe I could chicken out without looking completely feathered. Hopefully they will all just race off without noticing my absence. Many of the riders were exhausted from the day and night before and were not willing to ride at the same pace and many of the riders had large distances to travel to get back home unload their gear and prepare for their work week. I have to admit by the time breakfast was over I thought there might be a good chance of getting out of doing this ride.  Then my friend Sandy asked me to ride with her, she said we could plan on keeping a similar pace because it was only her second time ever riding single track.  Although now that I think about it she failed to mention she had been riding motorcycles for over fifteen years. I just got my permit last May, I had only ridden my motorcycle between twelve and twenty times total, I’m not even a fully licensed rider yet. But nonetheless, I promised the night before I would do it, so I was determined to do it even if it killed me.

Only a fellow adventurer can relate to that ember of a life-time-journey that fumes inside, a particular, recurring call-to-adventure that smolders inside of us.  I think that somewhere deep inside our consciousness a very particular kind of internal development is locked into grips with external exploration.  Transforming from who we are into whom we want to become requires traveling from where we are to where we want to go; we know deep within our soul that, our development will never be complete until we have finished our own particular journey.  The pragmatic, reasonable, rational, sensible mind we depend on so much in our day-to-day life often concludes that this private, internal fantasy makes no sense at all, and even if we allow ourselves to indulge, there are plenty of others standing ready to openly mock such senseless acts.  Nothing encourages more disdain than expressing the desire to abandon normal life, especially when it involves indulging a romantic longing that is hard to describe and most often impossible to understand. If I would have made the choice not to go I would have always wondered what I had been missing. So, with that being said I put on my protective gear and started my motorcycle. I spent more time that day on the ground and picking up my motorcycle than I did actually riding. I can only estimate how many times I crashed because it happened too many times to precisely recall. But, if I were to venture a guess, I would say I crashed well over 27 times in 6 short miles.  I am so sore that it hurts to breathe. Every muscle in my body hurts. I feel pain almost everywhere there is flesh. Somehow as I was hurling myself through the deeply wooded single track of Jackson County, I even took a tree branch across the bridge of my nose. I could have easily died if I were to have stayed on the motorcycle long enough to gain any speed. I even recall at one point after screaming profanities into the sky, thinking these single track riders are insane, how can they possibly think this is fun? It seems more like hard work to me.  As that ride progressed and I had perfected the skill of lifting my motorcycle off of its side, out of the sand, dirt, and, mud, I began wondering if all dual sport motorcycle riders started out the same exact way. What I realized was I challenged myself beyond anything I have ever done in the past.  I started to feel enlightened and I started to crave the next challenge, my next great adventure.

When I made that promise to ride single track, I believed my journey could possibly be a suicide mission of sorts and after telling this story, I am beginning to understand the amplitude of that statement.  I have systematically begun to ransack my life to satisfy a strange craving for adventure, to test myself, to test the world.  This is not fiction. It’s real. It’s happening to me right now and I am the cause of it.  Don’t ask me how it ends, because I have no idea, and I sure as hell don’t have a clue what comes in the middle. As for the beginning, every day that I am allowed the privilege to wake up, I can and will bring about the opportunity for another adventure. So I ask you; is anyone up for riding single track with me this weekend?

This is a video of my life partner Jay riding the Crawford Hills Single Track North Loop in Jackson County, Wisconsin.  This video was filmed at the actual speed he rides these trails. This is the exact trail I rode, except at a much slower pace with considerably less style and grace.

This is my dual sport motorcycle.