The open-air scenery flies by uninterrupted; unframed by car windows or your imagination. The wind blows in your face and the fresh-cut hay finds your nostrils. The road rises and turns with a landscape that unfurls from every ridge top.
The land east of Westby and Cashton is Amish Country (see my March 25 blog), where life slows to a pace set by one-horse buggies. I left the navigating to my brother-in-law and was soon lost among hairpin corners and U-turned intersections. We left the modern world back at the highway and didn’t miss it a bit.
We passed a doe and her two fawns drinking from a brook that feeds the Kickapoo River. We craned our necks to pick them out amid the underbrush lining the stream. Mother did not return our attention as she was busy keeping track of her spindle-legged youngsters.
We found ourselves swiveling our heads to admire the Amish backcountry; the pleated rows of Amish crops, the one-room school houses that center every settlement, the friendly waves of Amish farmers.
We stopped for dinner at the Blue Goose, a pizza and ice cream parlor located just the other side of nowhere. Occupying a renovated barn, it suddenly appeared around a bend in the road like a country oasis. Not to be confused with the color of the barn, the Blue Goose is named after the goose sculpture sitting in the yard. The owners are friendly – she refers to herself as the “Blue Goose Lady” – and the pizza is superb. A 12” pizza heaped high with cheese and fixings easily fed the four of us.
Fully fed, we showed great discipline in avoiding the ice cream counter. Then we came to our senses and ordered a scoop of cookie dough on a waffle cone. So much for discipline.
Then we climbed back into the Mustang and made our way back to Viroqua via the back streets of Westby, where we made acquaintance with Mr. “Nice Car.” He’s a good judge of classic cars. But nothing compares to the sights we saw on the back roads of Driftless Wisconsin.
