Elroy-Sparta Trail, WI

The Elroy-Sparta Trail has been high on my list for a while, mostly because it’s known as the first converted rail-trail in the United States. That alone makes it a bit of a landmark for anyone who enjoys cycling old rail corridors. My plan was to ride it out and back — a full round trip. According to AllTrails, that meant 35 miles each way. I also had a personal goal in mind: to ride my age in miles. I’ve been doing this for over 10 years now, and yes, it gets a little tougher with each birthday. I usually do it on my birthday, but couldn’t this year — so today was the day.

I’d intended to wake up at 5 and be on the trail by 6:30, but between sleeping in and poor planning, I didn’t roll out until 9:30. Elroy — one of the trailhead towns — feels like a place that’s seen better days. A lot of the shops along Main Street were closed, giving the downtown a quiet, almost forgotten feel. I parked in a lot across from the fire department — no signs, no meters, no time limits. That’s been true of a lot of places I’ve stopped in Wisconsin.

The Trail Fee That Doesn’t Make Sense

Of all 50 states, only one charges a fee to ride its bike paths — Wisconsin. It’s $5 per day or $20 for the year. The cost isn’t the issue — it’s the principle. I was talking to someone about it, and we both shook our heads. Charging people to ride a bike trail — something that promotes health, tourism, and outdoor recreation — just feels backwards. I’ve biked in dozens of states and haven’t encountered this anywhere else.

To make things worse, there’s often little signage and no clear way to pay. I didn’t even realize there was a fee until I was already riding. Enforcement appears to be low, and the number of people using the trail wasn’t exactly overwhelming — though it did hit 96 degrees in the sun. Why create a barrier to something that should be welcoming and easy to access? This isn’t about five bucks — it’s about the message it sends. Wisconsin has beautiful trails, but this policy isn’t helping promote them. Gently placing the soapbox back in storage.

On the Trail

The trail surface is hard-packed gravel — someone said it’s crushed granite — and it runs that way from end to end. Some describe parts as grassy or sandy, and there were a few patches like that, but overall it was solid. I’d call the whole thing easy. It rolls through three long, gradual climbs, each ending in a tunnel. Heading out from Elroy, the first tunnel comes at about mile eight and runs a quarter mile long. I only used four of my twelve gears the entire ride.

At each tunnel entrance, signs ask you to walk your bike — and that’s a good call. Inside, it’s pitch black with water running along both sides. I followed the signs and walked. No flashlight, just focused on the light at the far end to keep centered. The whole thing became meditative — the rhythm of footsteps echoing, the trickle of water in the flumes, the occasional drip from above. The darkness focuses your attention forward. For a few minutes, it’s just you and motion.

Coming out of each tunnel, I’d drop a few gears and speed up. The trail is narrow, with tall grass up to the edge and trees just beyond. I half-expected a deer to leap out in front of me. I saw plenty of deer, but they kept their distance.

This trail could also be called the bunny-butterfly-flower trail. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many rabbits sitting along a path. Butterflies of all kinds fluttered with and around me — likely drawn to my bright orangish-red jersey. Patches of purple, pink, blue, yellow, and white wildflowers lined the way.

Near Wilton, the second tunnel appeared about five miles past the first. Similar vibe, just longer — a half mile. After that, the trail rolled into Norwalk. I stopped to take a few photos of what turned out to be the Norwalk Tractor Pull grounds — there were signs and viewing stands. There was also a small shop that looked like it sold snacks. I made a mental note.

The heat was climbing toward 90 as I neared the third tunnel. The light at the end looked smaller than the others — probably because this one stretches close to a mile. I used my camera flashlight in here. Water was running everywhere, and in spots, it was basically raining. Stone flumes on either side of the trail helped divert water, and newer concrete structures had been added at both ends to help support the original stone. Some low retaining walls also looked like part of the original construction.

The walk through this tunnel was a great way to cool down. I came out the other side slightly wet, definitely cooler, and ready to ride. A group was debating who would take the group photo, so I offered. They were delighted. Some were locals, others from France, and a few from Minnesota. They snapped a photo of me in return, standing at the tunnel entrance. One of the locals told me it was eight miles to Sparta, all downhill.

Sparta and the Halfway Point

Sparta’s old train depot greets you with signs that read “The Bicycle Capital of the World.” Bold words for such a small town. My Garmin 830 said I’d done 32 miles, so I kept going another five. I stopped for a snack and pulled out a couple Nature’s Bakery fig and blueberry bars. As I sat there, I heard the clack-clack of a train behind me. I turned to see a sleek Amtrak train pulling ten double-decker cars. Not sure which line it was, but I made a note: I need to do this coast-to-coast one day.

The Fall

On the way back into Sparta, I reached a street crossing at the same time as a truck. The driver slowed but didn’t stop. I hesitated, expecting him to pass, but he just kept creeping forward. I ended up balancing in place, and when I tried to unclip, my shoe didn’t release. I tipped over, catching myself with my arm. My knee twisted under me, and the crossbar pressed hard into the side of it with all my weight. I eventually twisted free, stood up, and walked to the Train Depot. The old man in the truck had backed up and just waited, silent. I told him I’d be OK and thanked him for stopping. He gave me a little wave and drove off.

Heading Back

I stopped at the old train depot, now the Sparta Regional Trail Center, and bought a trail pass to stay legal. The nearby sign read 96°F — and in the sun, it felt every bit of it. Unlike most out-and-back rides, this one felt the same on the return. That’s the beauty of the trail’s gradual grade.

In Norwalk, I stopped at a place I remembered looking like an ice cream shop. Turned out to be a Mexican family-owned restaurant. I bought a Jarritos® Pineapple soda. They didn’t have bottled water, but they offered me chilled fresh water from the fridge and filled my 2L Osprey hydration pack for free. I took a 15-minute break, drank my soda, and then got back on the trail.

Wrapping Up the Day

Low on gas, I stopped at a station that turned out to have a surprisingly large grocery store — a nice little bonus. I made my way back to Wildcat Mountain State Park and headed straight for the showers. As I stepped out, a young guy asked if he could borrow my soap. I said no — but offered him a fresh bar instead. I had just bought a three-pack. He was very appreciative and told me my van was, as he put it, “really rad.” He said he watches YouTube videos about people living and traveling in vans.

I made dinner and was asleep by 8:45.