By Ruth A. Ringelstetter
Whenever we’re out shunpiking, we’re on the lookout for old mills: grist mills, saw mills, woolen mills, feed mills, etc. We love all old mills.
We drive every “Mill Road” that we come upon out in the country or in the towns we pass through. Wisconsin is not a state that is noted for its mills, but there are more mills around than you would think.
We have several well-known mills, one of which is Hyde’s Mill in Iowa County. It is a small mill with a wooden waterwheel set on a mill pond. Joann and I have visited this mill multiple times in every season. It is such a peaceful place.
In May 1996, after a trip to Spring Green with family, we stopped at Hyde’s Mill on the way home. The owner, Ted Sawle, was home and when he saw us down by the mill, he came down the hill from the miller’s house to talk with us. He asked us if we wanted to see his collection of antique tools and equipment. We did, and we accompanied him into his personal “tool museum” to see everything that he had inside.
As we left the tool museum, he talked about running the mill as a saw mill during the war. And as he spoke, we could tell that he had a reverence for wood. He said that most of the trees surrounding the mill were walnut trees and he loved the strength and grandeur of those trees. And then he put his arms around one and hugged it tight.
Ted loved old mills and helped to restore or recreate waterwheels for mill restorations into his 90’s. He passed away in January 2009 at the age of 103.
Wisconsin also has several mills that have been restored by local historic groups. We are very thankful to these dedicated people who spend their free time researching the mills, drumming up funding, and restoring the mills to their original splendor. If it weren’t for them, these mills would eventually disappear from the landscape.
The Messer/Mayer Grist and Sawmill was on a list of mills that Joann and I have had for years. We went looking for it several times over the years and always ended up driving up and down the road we thought it was on and not finding it. We would slow down along the road at every creek crossing and peer into the woods for any sign of a mill.
Finally, several years ago, we decided to drive down one of the driveways on the road and found the mill. It was in the very early stages of restoration. Today the mill is well marked with a sign, and the public is welcome to visit and enjoy the restored mill and park.
Another restored mill is the Beckman mill near Beloit, Wisconsin. On the way to a Christmas celebration on New Year’s Day, I thought about how close we would be to the Beckman Mill. We had never photographed it in the winter, so we decided to leave our celebration in time to stop at the mill before sunset. Our family already knows that we almost always get side-tracked on the way to and from anything we attend. We try to leave a little early to account for these side trips, but we don’t always make it to the party on time. We consider this to be just one of the little perils of shunpiking!
We made it to the mill as the sun was sinking low in the sky and the mill was beautiful in the snow. It was a bitter cold day and as the sun was setting it became colder. Because we hadn’t really planned to photograph that day, Joann wasn’t dressed very warmly and she didn’t have her boots, but we couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this. I watched from the car as she walked down the road taking photos at various spots. And then I watched as she walked gingerly across the snow to get closer to the mill. Soon she was trudging farther through the snow to get to a view of the mill with the water pouring over the dam.
After watching her take quite a few pictures from the dam, I started the car and pulled up so she wouldn’t have too far to walk back and, as I waited in the car, I watched her walk even further back along the mill pond. She liked that view the best, but I was worried about how cold it was.
Finally she came back to the car and climbed in. Taking off her gloves, she touched my hand with hers, and they were freezing! But she was very happy because she said the best view was from along the mill pond above the dam. These winter photos turned out to be the best pictures we have ever gotten of Beckman Mill.
There are also mills that we didn’t know about and just stumbled upon. The Marytown feed mill is one of those. We were out shunpiking years ago and as we came to a small crossroads town, we passed this mill. It was still an operating feed mill at the time, but it wasn’t open, so we stopped and took quite a few pictures.
It reminded us of the old feed mill we had gone to with our dad almost 50 years ago. In the fall of 2007, we returned to find the mill no longer operating but still very beautiful in its abandonment.
So, when you’re out shunpiking, keep an eye out for old mills. If you find any, let us know!
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Shunpiking To Heaven Backroads Blog
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Sunday, January 31, 2010
A Visit from Jack Frost and the Iceman
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
There’s no doubt about it, Wisconsin winters are long and, after the rush of the holidays, January can seem like a long month. It’s usually a very cold month, too.
Sometimes, in the depths of winter’s bitter cold grip, we wonder why we live in a state like Wisconsin. And other times, we find ourselves in awe of the magical winter scenes that unfold before us.
In February, 2008, the Madison, Wisconsin area was “treated” to a thick coating of ice that covered every surface, including the roads. And, amazingly, the icy coatings stayed strong for four days in a row.
After the roads had been salted, it was fun to drive around and see everything sparkling like diamonds. Even with the sun shining, the ice stayed on the tree branches, and when the sun set in the evening, the icy branches glowed with an orange hue.
In the middle of January this year, we were treated to some rather unusual weather – freezing fog and a combination of hoar frost and soft rime, which I’ll explain in a minute.
And, again, this unusual condition happened three days in a row. It was unusual to begin with because January is usually bitter cold. But to have everything frosted from the huge pine trees to the smallest blades of grass was a treat for the eyes.
The frost appeared to be hoar frost in some spots and soft rime in others. Hoar frost consists of soft ice crystals that usually form during a clear winter night. And these crystals are deposited on tree branches, bushes, grasses, weeds, and all kinds of other surfaces.
Sometimes the hoar frost is so thick that it appears to be snow. Soft rime looks a lot like hoar frost. The difference is actually in how the frost is formed. Soft rime often forms when there is freezing fog (which we had during this weather pattern) and in slightly windy conditions.
Soft rime can be fairly compact or it can have fairly long “feathers” and “tails” which might point in the direction from which the wind is coming. The frosted spruce trees below line the road near my home and the trees on the other side of the road were not very frosted on the side toward the road.
Whether the frost we experienced was hoar frost or rime doesn’t really matter. It was such a beautiful “winter wonderland” and we were blessed to enjoy its beauty for three straight days. This is why we live in Wisconsin and these are the times for which we are truly grateful.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
There’s no doubt about it, Wisconsin winters are long and, after the rush of the holidays, January can seem like a long month. It’s usually a very cold month, too.
Sometimes, in the depths of winter’s bitter cold grip, we wonder why we live in a state like Wisconsin. And other times, we find ourselves in awe of the magical winter scenes that unfold before us.
In February, 2008, the Madison, Wisconsin area was “treated” to a thick coating of ice that covered every surface, including the roads. And, amazingly, the icy coatings stayed strong for four days in a row.
After the roads had been salted, it was fun to drive around and see everything sparkling like diamonds. Even with the sun shining, the ice stayed on the tree branches, and when the sun set in the evening, the icy branches glowed with an orange hue.
In the middle of January this year, we were treated to some rather unusual weather – freezing fog and a combination of hoar frost and soft rime, which I’ll explain in a minute.
And, again, this unusual condition happened three days in a row. It was unusual to begin with because January is usually bitter cold. But to have everything frosted from the huge pine trees to the smallest blades of grass was a treat for the eyes.
The frost appeared to be hoar frost in some spots and soft rime in others. Hoar frost consists of soft ice crystals that usually form during a clear winter night. And these crystals are deposited on tree branches, bushes, grasses, weeds, and all kinds of other surfaces.
Sometimes the hoar frost is so thick that it appears to be snow. Soft rime looks a lot like hoar frost. The difference is actually in how the frost is formed. Soft rime often forms when there is freezing fog (which we had during this weather pattern) and in slightly windy conditions.
Soft rime can be fairly compact or it can have fairly long “feathers” and “tails” which might point in the direction from which the wind is coming. The frosted spruce trees below line the road near my home and the trees on the other side of the road were not very frosted on the side toward the road.
Whether the frost we experienced was hoar frost or rime doesn’t really matter. It was such a beautiful “winter wonderland” and we were blessed to enjoy its beauty for three straight days. This is why we live in Wisconsin and these are the times for which we are truly grateful.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Sunday, January 24, 2010
I Think We're Being Followed
Ruth A. Ringelstetter
In April of 2008, Joann and I took a photography trip to the Ozarks of Missouri and Arkansas. In the mountains of Arkansas, we made our way to an historic mountain town known for its mountain music. I just knew Joann would enjoy this town since I had read about how the local musicians sat around town playing music every night. We arrived during a cold wave, and all we found was one lone person playing their guitar outside. The mountains were beautiful, but the weather was not cooperating for people to be picking outside.
I had also read about a swinging bridge near town. The only thing I knew about it was that it was on Swinging Bridge Road, but my map didn’t show any road named Swinging Bridge Road. (Irwin, our trusty GPS companion, might have come in handy here, but this was before his time.) So we spent some time driving up and down the roads looking for the swinging bridge, but we finally decided to give up, at least for the time being. We spent the afternoon exploring the town and we managed to find an old mill that I had read about before the trip.
Then we stopped to check what time the music store opened in the morning. As we made note of the hours, we saw two women sitting at a table outside an ice cream shop. Joann jumped out of the car and went over to ask them if they knew of the swinging bridge. They did know where it was and gave Joann directions. They also told her that the bridge was damaged in recent floods and was not open to traffic, but that we could get close enough to look at it and probably take some pictures. They also told Joann that they had spent the day at a conference and were still an hour from home, so they had to get going.
As Joann repeated the directions to me, we realized that we had driven right past the road earlier (twice!) and had not noticed the sign either time. We decided to check in at our motel before heading to the bridge and, while we relaxed for a few minutes, we made a short grocery list of things we should pick up on our way back from the bridge.
Leaving the motel, we followed the directions and figured out why we had missed the road. It was a small side road that angled back kitty corner to the highway about halfway down a steep hill. We finally saw the road sign as we passed it yet again. So we had to go a ways down the road to find somewhere to turn around so we could return to the elusive Swinging Bridge Road.
We followed the road to the bridge, noting the devastation left by the flood. As Joann got out of the car, another car pulled up behind us. Joann looked back, and then leaned into the car.
Joann: “I think we’re being followed.”
Ruth: “What?”
Joann: “It’s those two ladies from the ice cream shop.”
Ruth: “You’re kidding, right?”
Joann: “No, I’m not kidding, it’s those two ladies from town, only now there are four of them.”
Ruth (laughing): “You didn’t tell them where we’re staying, did you?”
Joann (grimacing): “Actually, I did because they asked me where we were staying. I just thought they were being nice.”
They came over to our car and said they just wanted to make sure we found the bridge. Again, they said they had to get going because it was getting late and they had to work the next day. So they turned their car around and drove away. After they left, we talked about how funny it was that they had come to check on us, and how they must have waited for us while we checked into our motel. After photographing the bridge, we headed back toward town. Along the way, we stopped to capture an old gas sign.
After that we passed some fresh road kill and Joann asked me if I wanted her to turn around. Bear with me here; it’s a little hard to explain why we would stop for road kill.
Before we left on this trip, I told Joann that I wanted to see an armadillo in Arkansas because I had never seen one before. Shortly after entering Arkansas, we saw lots of them along the roadsides. The only problem was that they were all dead. At this point in our trip, I thought we were about out of armadillo country, so my chances to see a live one were nearly gone.
So as we passed the armadillo on the side of the road, Joann laughed and asked me if I wanted to stop and take a look at it up close. I’m usually game for a little craziness, so she turned the car around, found a safe place to park, and we walked back up the hill to the armadillo. Locals probably got a kick out of seeing two people from Wisconsin on the side of the road, bent over a dead armadillo, but it was interesting to see. We walked back to the car and turned around again to head for town.
On the way back to our motel, we stopped at a large grocery store and bought groceries and a few other supplies, spending about a half hour in the store. Then, as we came to the corner by our motel, we noticed an oversized rocking chair in front of a store that we had driven past, not once but three times, without noticing. (Doesn’t it make you wonder just how much stuff we miss in our backroads travel?)
Those of you who are familiar with the Laugh-in show from the late 60’s and early 70’s might remember an oversized rocking chair that Lily Tomlin sat in as she played little Edith Ann. She always “told it like it was” and ended each skit by saying, “And that’s the truth! P-l-b-b-b-t!” Joann was eager to have her picture taken in that huge chair, so she climbed up into it and I snapped her picture.
As she was sitting there clowning around like Edith Ann, a car pulled out from behind the store and stopped next to the chair. We looked over and our jaws dropped as we realized it was the same car with the same ice cream shop ladies. They sat there for a minute waving enthusiastically and then drove away.
That night at the motel, we talked about how odd this whole episode was. Were we being stalked? Those ladies had supposedly been on their way home a couple hours earlier. Instead, they must have been waiting somewhere while we checked into our motel. Then they had followed us to the bridge, and they must have waited around somewhere while we checked out the armadillo road kill and went grocery shopping. We joked about being stalked and laughed about how those ladies must have been watching us as we moved around the town. And we wondered where they waited each time we detoured to look at something and while we went shopping. And then we double-checked our deadbolt!
The next morning, we spent some time at the music store and then stopped at an old-fashioned drugstore for chocolate malts before we left town. (Look closely; don’t those malts on the end of the counter look good? They were awesome!) As we drove out of town, I checked the mirror. I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure we weren’t being followed.
Happy Shunpiking, and be mindful of who’s watching you!
Ruth
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
In April of 2008, Joann and I took a photography trip to the Ozarks of Missouri and Arkansas. In the mountains of Arkansas, we made our way to an historic mountain town known for its mountain music. I just knew Joann would enjoy this town since I had read about how the local musicians sat around town playing music every night. We arrived during a cold wave, and all we found was one lone person playing their guitar outside. The mountains were beautiful, but the weather was not cooperating for people to be picking outside.
I had also read about a swinging bridge near town. The only thing I knew about it was that it was on Swinging Bridge Road, but my map didn’t show any road named Swinging Bridge Road. (Irwin, our trusty GPS companion, might have come in handy here, but this was before his time.) So we spent some time driving up and down the roads looking for the swinging bridge, but we finally decided to give up, at least for the time being. We spent the afternoon exploring the town and we managed to find an old mill that I had read about before the trip.
Then we stopped to check what time the music store opened in the morning. As we made note of the hours, we saw two women sitting at a table outside an ice cream shop. Joann jumped out of the car and went over to ask them if they knew of the swinging bridge. They did know where it was and gave Joann directions. They also told her that the bridge was damaged in recent floods and was not open to traffic, but that we could get close enough to look at it and probably take some pictures. They also told Joann that they had spent the day at a conference and were still an hour from home, so they had to get going.
As Joann repeated the directions to me, we realized that we had driven right past the road earlier (twice!) and had not noticed the sign either time. We decided to check in at our motel before heading to the bridge and, while we relaxed for a few minutes, we made a short grocery list of things we should pick up on our way back from the bridge.
Leaving the motel, we followed the directions and figured out why we had missed the road. It was a small side road that angled back kitty corner to the highway about halfway down a steep hill. We finally saw the road sign as we passed it yet again. So we had to go a ways down the road to find somewhere to turn around so we could return to the elusive Swinging Bridge Road.
We followed the road to the bridge, noting the devastation left by the flood. As Joann got out of the car, another car pulled up behind us. Joann looked back, and then leaned into the car.
Joann: “I think we’re being followed.”
Ruth: “What?”
Joann: “It’s those two ladies from the ice cream shop.”
Ruth: “You’re kidding, right?”
Joann: “No, I’m not kidding, it’s those two ladies from town, only now there are four of them.”
Ruth (laughing): “You didn’t tell them where we’re staying, did you?”
Joann (grimacing): “Actually, I did because they asked me where we were staying. I just thought they were being nice.”
They came over to our car and said they just wanted to make sure we found the bridge. Again, they said they had to get going because it was getting late and they had to work the next day. So they turned their car around and drove away. After they left, we talked about how funny it was that they had come to check on us, and how they must have waited for us while we checked into our motel. After photographing the bridge, we headed back toward town. Along the way, we stopped to capture an old gas sign.
After that we passed some fresh road kill and Joann asked me if I wanted her to turn around. Bear with me here; it’s a little hard to explain why we would stop for road kill.
Before we left on this trip, I told Joann that I wanted to see an armadillo in Arkansas because I had never seen one before. Shortly after entering Arkansas, we saw lots of them along the roadsides. The only problem was that they were all dead. At this point in our trip, I thought we were about out of armadillo country, so my chances to see a live one were nearly gone.
So as we passed the armadillo on the side of the road, Joann laughed and asked me if I wanted to stop and take a look at it up close. I’m usually game for a little craziness, so she turned the car around, found a safe place to park, and we walked back up the hill to the armadillo. Locals probably got a kick out of seeing two people from Wisconsin on the side of the road, bent over a dead armadillo, but it was interesting to see. We walked back to the car and turned around again to head for town.
On the way back to our motel, we stopped at a large grocery store and bought groceries and a few other supplies, spending about a half hour in the store. Then, as we came to the corner by our motel, we noticed an oversized rocking chair in front of a store that we had driven past, not once but three times, without noticing. (Doesn’t it make you wonder just how much stuff we miss in our backroads travel?)
Those of you who are familiar with the Laugh-in show from the late 60’s and early 70’s might remember an oversized rocking chair that Lily Tomlin sat in as she played little Edith Ann. She always “told it like it was” and ended each skit by saying, “And that’s the truth! P-l-b-b-b-t!” Joann was eager to have her picture taken in that huge chair, so she climbed up into it and I snapped her picture.
As she was sitting there clowning around like Edith Ann, a car pulled out from behind the store and stopped next to the chair. We looked over and our jaws dropped as we realized it was the same car with the same ice cream shop ladies. They sat there for a minute waving enthusiastically and then drove away.
That night at the motel, we talked about how odd this whole episode was. Were we being stalked? Those ladies had supposedly been on their way home a couple hours earlier. Instead, they must have been waiting somewhere while we checked into our motel. Then they had followed us to the bridge, and they must have waited around somewhere while we checked out the armadillo road kill and went grocery shopping. We joked about being stalked and laughed about how those ladies must have been watching us as we moved around the town. And we wondered where they waited each time we detoured to look at something and while we went shopping. And then we double-checked our deadbolt!
The next morning, we spent some time at the music store and then stopped at an old-fashioned drugstore for chocolate malts before we left town. (Look closely; don’t those malts on the end of the counter look good? They were awesome!) As we drove out of town, I checked the mirror. I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure we weren’t being followed.
Happy Shunpiking, and be mindful of who’s watching you!
Ruth
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
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