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Eliza and Jim Neidhart of Fitchburg pedal a well shaded section of the Badger State Trail between Monroe and Monticello. Photo by Joe Brady by Joe Brady The year was 1992, and I'd stopped on the Sugar River Trail just outside New Glarus to chat with a local bike rider. I was leading a summer school bicycling trip for middle and high school students.
"Tunnel? What tunnel?" I asked. The friendly stranger explained he'd just visited an abandoned railway tunnel cut into the hillside a few miles north. Since I counted the Elroy Sparta Trail and its historic tunnels as one of my all-time favorite biking destinations, I made a mental note to one day investigate this claim of a tunnel so close to Madison. This summer – my pledge to get there one day had taken 15 years – I finally explored the historic Stewart Tunnel, now the remarkable centerpiece of the new Badger State Trail in southern Wisconsin. Opened in July, the trail will eventually extend 40 miles from Madison to the Wisconsin-Illinois border. My friend Mike Kirch and I planned to bike the 34 miles currently open in two days, commuting to the trail from our homes in Cambridge and Stoughton. The first day we hoped to ride 17.5 miles to the intersection of the Badger Trail and Sugar River Trail located one mile south of Monticello. The next day we planned to bike the trail's southern 16.5 miles to Illinois. Both days were to be out-and-back trips with no vehicle ferrying. What better way to see the trail than from both directions? Day 1: Fitchburg to the Sugar River Trail intersection On a spectacularly sunny July morning, we parked in an unimproved lot at the south end of Fitchburg city limits on Purcell Road. The opened part of the multiuse trail begins here and runs south 34 miles, passing through Belleville, Monticello and Monroe before joining the Jane Addams Trail in Illinois. Developed and maintained by the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources (DNR), the hard-packed limestone trail is expected to attract 100,000 to 175,000 annual users for hiking, biking, inline skating, snowmobiling, ATVing and, eventually, horseback riding. From our starting point, we looked north at the trail's six-mile northernmost Fitchburg segment, the only part of the trail not yet open to the public. Our destination for the day was Belleville, about seven miles south. We checked tires, filled packs and water bottles, applied sunscreen, then began our journey on the old railroad corridor. Almost immediately rock outcrops and dense foliage of black cherry, box elder and honeysuckle hid us from the surrounding farmland. Ravines like this one sculpted out of surrounding hills would intermittently shelter us all the way to Illinois, a reminder the trail runs along the eastern edge of Wisconsin's Driftless Zone, the unglaciated region appreciated and feared by bicyclists for its deep valleys nestled among seemingly endless, upland hills. We soon crossed the first of 40 trestle bridges. Renovating the bridges was one of the trail's major construction projects. "The redecking and repairing of the bridges cost about $400,000," explained John Olson, a DNR engineer who oversaw the trail's preparation. In addition to the bridges, we found the trail surface to be in excellent condition. "Limestone screening cost approximately $30,000 a mile; $800,000 for the entire project," Olson said. After a couple miles of easy pedaling, the trail paralleled State Highway 69 and crossed Henry Road a block west of the unincorporated village of Basco. In Railroads of Southern & Southwestern Wisconsin, Daniel Lanz writes that Basco was originally named Paoli Station but changed its name shortly after the CM & N (Chicago, Madison, and Northern Central Railroad) railroad was completed in 1888. Basco rail service ended in 1944, leaving Dot's Tavern to cater to locals and the occasional bicyclist headed to Belleville five miles away. As the trail became less sheltered, we enjoyed views of alfalfa, soybeans and cornfields on the flatter, open countryside. Soon we crossed the trail's most impressive trestle bridge over the Sugar River's lazily flowing waters and soon thereafter entered Belleville. To the right we found Library Park. Located on State Highways 69 and 92, the spacious park and its large parking lot are only a block from downtown Belleville, where hungry riders can find more than one establishment to enjoy refreshments. Library Park was the site of the official trail opening ceremony held July 8, sponsored by the Friends of the Badger State Trail. About 300 guests witnessed the ribbon-cutting and perused the user groups' displays alongside state Sen. Spencer Black, state Rep. Brett Davis and DNR trail manager Steve Johnston before embarking on a group run-walk-ride to view the tunnel. Our excitement grew as we followed their path out of Belleville into Green County. The trail grade climbed noticeably as we rode south, the hills becoming more numerous and steep. Four miles farther we crossed Tunnel Road and entered a cool, shaded passageway. Moments later we enjoyed the chilled air wafting from the dark entrance. I finally stood in front of the historic Stewart Tunnel. The quarter-mile-long tunnel welcomed trains from 1888 until the early 1980s. But by 2002 it was in such a desperate state of disrepair that the DNR hired an engineering firm to make the passage safe. "It wasn't totally impassable but a lot of rock had fallen near the middle. There was also standing water and drainage problems throughout," Olson explained. Over $300,000 was spent extending a metal cap over the ceiling's weak spot and bolstering the decayed brick lining with sand and concrete. Olson said the drainage issue was solved by regrading the entire surface to create a drainable slope. We appreciated the dry, even grade because it made walking our bikes easier in the dark. When we'd entered the tunnel, we'd looked up to see black stains left years ago by smoke-belching, coal-powered steam engines. Standing at the tunnel's midpoint 100 feet underground, we had to advance a few steps to either side just to detect a slight glow of natural light. We were happy Mike brought a light. Banishing the darkness was just one of the problems workers faced during construction of the original tunnel. As two crews simultaneously mined from both sides, the laborers faced many difficulties: a bleak winter with 15-foot snowdrifts and temperatures greater than 30 below zero, three deaths (including that of the tunnel namesake, James Stewart, who died after being thrown from a buggy), a strike over wages, a flood caused by an underground stream and extreme summer drought. "What to us today is a complicated technological problem, to them was just a matter of logistics and hard work," said Kim Tschudy, a railroad buff and president of the New Glarus Depot Preservation Society. The tunnel crews met in December 1887, 13 months after the digging began. Exiting at the southern end, we paused to take pictures of the impressive stone blocks framing the entrance. Black raspberries and garlic mustard flecked the drainage troughs on each side of the trail. Mike found some small fossils in rocks fallen from the exposed limestone walls. Looking back one last time at the entrance, we couldn't help but marvel at the amount of backbreaking labor required to dig that tunnel. Tschudy considers the transportation of 155,000 cubic yards of rock as impressive as the digging itself. Historic photos show workers, who earned $1.25 to $1.75 a day, standing beside a six-car steam train that carried away 1,000 cubic yards of rock per day. Only a few hundred yards from the tunnel's steep-sided ravine, we appreciated Tschudy's point as we stopped to admire the panoramic views to the east and west. We were perched 40 to 50 feet atop the valley floor on the old rail bed – a man-made ridge of rocks and rubble removed and dumped to span the valley's length. We agreed the views would be breathtaking in autumn during leaf fall. Our pace quickened as we rode south and took advantage of the slight downhill grade. A mile from the tunnel we crossed Exeter Crossing Road. Taking this road west for two miles would take us to State Highway 69 and New Glarus Woods State Park, a great place to camp near the trail's midway point. Today, however, we continued toward Monticello, four miles away. The countryside around the trail flattened out as we entered the Sugar River Valley. We spied wetlands on both sides of the trail shortly before recognizing the tall grain elevators of Monticello. Trail users wanting to visit Monticello should turn west on Lake Avenue at the grain elevators. Parking is plentiful here, and Monticello's business district is just six blocks away. One mile farther and we arrived at our destination for the day: the intersection of the Sugar River and Badger state trails. Turning right on the Sugar River Trail would have taken us four miles northwest into New Glarus, while going left would have led us southwest to Brodhead about 15 miles away. But we reversed our course and began pedaling the 17.5 miles back to Purcell Road. A couple hours later, after securing our bikes and gulping down cold water, we faced north and looked again at the unimproved dirt segment of the trail. According to Dana White-Quam, the DNR regional trail coordinator, this six-mile section through Fitchburg eventually will allow access not only to Madison but also to the Capital City State Trail, the Military Ridge State Trail and the Glacial Drumlin State Trail. This connector segment will be used not only for recreation purposes but also for commuting, she said. Current plans call for paving this section, with construction beginning in late 2008 or early 2009 if federal grant funds become available. Matching state funds have already been allocated. While we looked forward to eventually biking the trail's six miles through Fitchburg, our thoughts focused on the next day's trek down what remained of the existing Badger Trail. Day 2: Monticello to the Jane Addams Trail in Illinois An hour into our second day of biking, I recalled a conversation we had with a rider we met after emerging from the Stewart Tunnel. Mark Leitermann from Madison was returning to Belleville from Monroe. He'd parked at Library Park hours earlier and was making good time riding a road bike with skinny tires – in contrast to our fat-tired mountain and hybrid bikes. We saw a handful of other riders on road bikes taking advantage of the near-perfect condition of the hard-packed surface. Asked about the 11-mile trail segment from Monticello to Monroe, he told us it was all uphill. "You get into the right gear and grind it up," he said. The best part, Leitermann added, was the ride back. "The tunnel is a real hoot. But my favorite part of the trail is the downhill from Monroe to Monticello. You just fly," he said. He hadn't exaggerated about the uphill. We'd parked at the Feldt Road crossing just south of Monticello and soon were spinning easy gears up the slight but steady rise to Monroe in an attempt to stay cool. After a brief morning downpour, the hazy sunshine was already promising a hot, humid day. In contrast with the steady uphill grade of the trail, the paved roads we crossed undulated up and down toward the east and west horizons. Like the day before, we biked the first few miles through sheltered corridors of green broken by the earth tones of exposed rock outcroppings. The trail gradually began to top the trees and berms, exposing scenic farms to view. A mile or two from Monroe, the trail finally leveled out. Entering the city limits, we found the crossing with the four-lane State Highway 11 very safe with excellent visibility. Adjoining the trail at 14th Avenue is Twining Park. Shelters, drinking fountains, toilets, picnic tables and parking make this a perfect access point in this city, population 11,000. After a quick rest and snack at the park, we left to cycle the 6.5 miles from Monroe to Illinois. The temperature had climbed to the low 90s, so we were pleased to find this segment to be mostly a green tunnel of dense foliage. The canopy narrowed and cooled the path. About four miles from Monroe, we passed the small town of Clarno, which has a parking area adjacent to the trail. Fifteen minutes later, we entered Illinois and stopped to sit on a small bench marking the end of the Badger State Trail and the beginning of the Jane Addams Trail. While there we chatted with Sarah Boyd from Abilene, Texas, who was visiting her grandparents in Dakota, Illinois. She'd spent an hour biking into Wisconsin and was then backtracking. "This trail is really nice," Boyd said, clearly appreciative of the smooth surface and level grade. She added that the high temp and humidity wasn't that bad compared to Texas. Rest time over, we glanced up from our bench toward the sign that read "Welcome to Wisconsin, the Badger State Trail." Ten feet away stood a herd of black-and-white Holsteins browsing in a pasture rising up to a weathered, old barn. This dairy scene, juxtaposed with the sign announcing the newest state trail, seemed fitting as we re-entered Wisconsin with smiles on our faces. We were looking forward to that long downhill grade out of Monroe. Joe Brady has led bicycling groups of middle and high school students on state park trails for 17 years. A teacher at McFarland High School, he's planning a new trip with his students next year on the Badger State Trail.
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