Viroqua, Wisconsin is a small town with a big name. For the past couple years, it has crept on my radar in subtle ways, mostly in relation to sustainable, environmental-friendly movements. Despite its name, the magazine Edible Madison is based out of Viroqua. I signed up for a newsletter (Love Wisconsin) for work and one of the first stories I read was about Eddy, the man who owns and operates Driftless Books.
The story about Driftless Books & Music sealed the deal for me. I checked out AirBnBs in Viroqua over Memorial Day weekend. I mapped out the drive and how long it would take to get there. I barely looked at what there was to offer–I’ll figure that out during my stay.
I booked it. I went. And this is what happened.
Viroqua? I barely know ya!
The drive to Viroqua was longer than I expected. I leave straight from work with a quick stop at the library between work and the highway. The route was straightforward–just follow Highway 14 and you’ll make it eventually. The scenery was full of growing fields and the occasional obscure sculpture. My favorite is a metal giraffe somewhere around Spring Green.
As much as I wanted to get there right now, I knew this trip was about slowing down and disconnecting, of looking around and smelling the flowers (er, soybean fields). I put the car in cruise at exactly the speed limit, and I take my sweet time.
Dinner was at a family restaurant in Richland Center. I debate about seeing a show at the Starlite Drive-In Theater sometime over the weekend. Don’t know what’s playing, but that’s part of the charm. I decide to not go during the weekend because of how much downtown Richland Center creeped me out. I parked three blocks away from the family restaurant where I ate at, but the only people I saw were at that restaurant. Downtown Richland Center was a ghost town on a Friday night.
Finally, I’m at the AirBnB around dusk. I did an old-fashioned AirBnB, where my room was a guest room inside another person’s house. My host was younger than I expected, about my age, and very into the art scene of the area. Over the weekend, she made willow baskets to sell at an upcoming show. She also presided over an art show that Sunday. I think she’s also in a local choir? She was welcoming, conversational when we saw each other in passing, and a good host.
Saturday was the day I spent wandering Viroqua proper. I didn’t use my car save for once in the evening. Instead, I walked around and explored the small-to-me downtown street. Breakfast was at Blackhawk Grille which had fabulous scrambled eggs. I walked around the farmer’s market, the public market, several other shops, mostly craft shops, and conversed with the owner’s mother of one.
The cream of the crop was Driftless Books & Music (as I thought it would be), an old tobacco warehouse converted into a used book store in the warehouse district. It is heaven between shelves. There were piles and piles of books, and the main room had them all mostly organized on shelves. I perused the fiction section slowly, the cookbook section less so, and the rest of the shelves I merely glanced at, happy to just browse and see what could catch my eye. There were giant decorations hanging from the ceiling. No two armchairs were the same. Everything looked like it came second-hand.
I learned while there that there was a free concert that evening. I took a compilation CD for the Wisconsin Roots Music Cooperative and purchased a book by S. E. Hinton about sailors and maybe vampires? The bookseller was surprised that the book even existed. We talked about The Outsiders as she wrote the book title in a giant book and updated the financial books.
Outside, I got lost on my way back downtown. My feet hurt, and the most desireable thing was sitting down somewhere and either reading the book I brought with me or writing in my notebook. I did so at Kickapoo Coffee, barely a block behind my AirBnB room, where I drank a pot of tea and ate a sandwich and did a lot of writing in a notebook while my poor feet rested.
After a quick nap in my room, I set out again, this time by car, to get dinner at the wine bar downtown (not the greatest but atmospheric and enjoyable) and then music at Driftless Books. The performer was a Minneapolis-based songwriter known as Her Crooked Heart, and I recommend her songs to most anyone. Her lyrics are intelligent, her band was talented and multi-instrumental. One of the members told a philosophical joke during downtime. I didn’t understand it, but I knew it to be funny.
This video features the lineup from that evening in a completely different setting.
Driftless in the Region
The next day held the same exploratory excitement but on a larger scale. After breakfast at Kickapoo Coffee, I walked to a Kwik Trip for some hiking provisions. My destination: the Kickapoo Valley Nature Preserve. The drive was filled with music from the compilation CD I purchased the day before and hills. I come from northeast Wisconsin; I didn’t know Wisconsin had this many hills and valleys.
At the reserve, I walk into the visitor center and wait to be helped by one of the ladies at the desk. I purchase a day pass and a deck of cards and ask for hike recommendations that would take a couple hours but get me deep into nature. The attendant radiated enthusiasm as she highlighted my map.
I set out. Nature is awesome and green. It is peaceful and spiritual and toughens anybody who spends time in it. There is a ruggedness to experienced hikers and campers that I admire. It’s a different type of resourcefulness that’s required in the city, one that relies on physical strength rather than mental capacity. I am a city-woman venturing out into the wild, and I wish I had been more prepared.
Hiking is meditative. Whenever my mind wandered away from my current location, I would re-center it by focusing on my breathing. I channeled everything I learned from yoga class into meditating while hiking. I took a lot of pictures with my phone. I complained to myself about how much mud my shoes were taking on and thanked myself for bringing more than one pair.
I did not finish the trail circuit. Nature is nice and all, but I am too concerned about the state of my material possessions. Besides, my lack of bug spray was disconcerting.
Driving out of the reserve, I got lost. Kind of on purpose. I didn’t know where I was going, and then I was in the middle of Amish country stretching to either side of me. I passed more horse-drawn buggies than I’ve seen in an entire summer. I pulled over in my car and consulted a map of the area, charted a route that would take me west to the Mississippi then south along its shores. I’ll stop for dinner at Prairie du Chein. Surely something must be open there today.
That led me to observation area and after observation area. I took pictures, read historical markers, and just stopped to watch the water. I tried to think about Mark Twain, but I was never a big fan of his work. Instead, I thought about small towns and their economies. How do they support each other? How does anyone make enough business to keep their business in business? Does my AirBnB host rent or own her house? How does the woman who checked me out at the public market the other day support herself on $8/hour? Is $8/hour a liveable wage this far away from the big city?
The only restaurants open in Prairie du Chien were a loud pizza joint and a crowded burger stand. I ate a burger and a soda and then drove back to Viroqua. The burger wasn’t that satisfying, so I cracked and got a salad at Culver’s. On my last night in Viroqua, I ate the salad in my room, freshly showered, tick-free, while watching a movie on Netflix. (Wine Country)
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