Far Away Place to Call Home

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting – over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

November gets a bad rap. Following Halloween, its first day is helplessly anticlimactic, and the weeks thereafter get dismissed by the trimmings of Thanksgiving. Combined with the drops in temperature and daylight, not to mention the kaleidoscope of foliage fading to blaze orange and Black Friday, November is too often forfeited as the recreational equivalent of cancel culture.

But it needn’t be. Indeed, it can be just as easily seen as the encore performance of your favorite band ballyhooed back on stage for a few more songs. Sure, the end is nigh and the hits already played, but it’s less crowded and more intimate.

Autumn conjures the north country, but that comes with caveats. For starters, it’s night by 5 pm. Moreover, the warmest time of the day is but a brief window, a few hours wide. Hedging my bets, I love visiting Marathon County this time of year because it’s only two hours from where I live, yet evokes a northern feel. And when darkness descends, Wausau offers an oasis of indoor respites from restaurants to museums – even a performing arts theater where your favorite band might play.

A veritable polestar, Rib Mountain towers 760’ above its surrounding plain and displays a dazzling array of pinkish-purple quartz, some of the hardest rock on the planet. While the “mountain” (technically a monadnock) is the state’s fourth-highest peak, its prominent stature is spectacular. It’s unusual name alludes to gross anatomy; even the Ojibwe called this tall hill Opicwana, meaning “rib.” There’s serendipity in bones for old bedrock, especially in autumn.

By the 1870s, a large quarry was founded here, and 50 years later, a state park was dedicated. I’m no apologist for gouging the land and leaving gaping wounds, but former quarries are like cross-sections, allowing you to appreciate the fissured strata of geology. Of the 13 total miles of trails at Rib Mountain State Park, starting your trek at the Turkey Vulture Trailhead and connecting to the Homestead and/or Quarry trails makes for a rewarding loop just shy of 3 miles. Or head to the Red Trail to take in more quartzite cliffs, broken talus (i.e., the cookie crumbs of big rocks), and breathtaking views.

It’s not just hikers who stick to the Rib; mountain bikers will soon be able to double down on single-track trails starting in 2026. Until then, Nine Mile County Forest has more distance than its name implies, as do the trail systems in nearby Ringle, Sylvan Hill, and Underdown. For more on these specific trails, see the Central Wisconsin Offroad Cycling Coalition’s website at cwocc.org. Or dial down the adrenaline along the Mountain-Bay State Trail with its 83 miles of crushed stone on a gradual grade.

In the northeastern corner of Marathon County lies one of the most aesthetically splendid parks anywhere in Wisconsin, where a mini-gorge of Precambrian Rhyolite (ancient volcanic rock) has been worn down by glacial meltwater, at the Dells of the Eau Claire County Park. Here, the Eau Claire River plummets some 60’ in half a mile, the highlights of which are its mezzanine outcrops of polished schist. Ranging from reddish to black, the astonishment is just how smooth these fabulous slabs of rock are. The park draws throngs of swimmers in summer, diving off the varying heights, not to mention skilled whitewater paddlers. Come November, the scenery will be quieter and scarcer. A short stretch of the vaunted Ice Age Trail skates along the river, rocks, and most raucous rapids. See iceagetrail.org for segments and logistics.

The Eau Claire River is one of a half-dozen streams in the area offering lighter whitewater. Its riverine sibling to the east, the Plover, is a pretty stream punctuated with glacier-deposited boulders called “erratics” that range in size from a kitchen sink to the whole kitchen itself. The neighboring Embarrass River and its entangled branches, not to mention the Pine and Prairie or the Trappe and Wood, all tumble down hummocky terrain, distinguishing the transition from the Northern Highlands to the Central Sands landscapes of Wisconsin. As such, they make quite a splash. You’ll want to be sure they have enough water to run without walking your boat. For a deep dive on these streams, visit milespaddled.com.

The original source of the Wisconsin River is at two boundaries: the State of Michigan and the Mississippi River, a distance of 430 miles. Twenty-two of its 26-total dams are located within its first 230 miles – thus earning its title as “the hardest-working river in the nation.” However, a remarkable free-flowing stretch lies between Merrill and Wausau, the most textured of which is from Pine Bluff Road to Gilbert Park, where access is excellent. Paddlers will delight in a bevy of boulder gardens, light rapids, and swaths of forest. This trip is especially appealing in November, as the environs brandish abandon in an indefinable but undeniable manner. The broad boulevard of river has few hazards and lends itself to splendid solitude. Check out the fantastic Great Pinery Heritage Waterway at greatpinery.com for more info.

To witness a hint of what the river was, go to Grandfather Falls, where the steepest descent of the Wisconsin crashes in a series of cascading ledges totaling 90’ in 0.75-mile. Alas, only a portion of this phenomenon remains intact; most of the water is captured by a dam and sent downhill through old-fashioned penstocks, which resemble huge casks looped with metal rings, to the brick-built powerhouse below. The whole operation is a bit steampunk, and the pressure that builds up inside the penstocks creates frenetic leaks spritzing into the air.

But there’s still a sliver of river that smashes against the unflinching, ancient granite, and when the water is high it does so with thunderous crescendo. When it’s low, you can clamber onto the Precambrian bedrock, where a couple of billion years ago two primitive continents collided and caused literal upheaval. Or take a soulful stroll on the Ice Age Trail along the river’s east bank. Under the leaden canopy of overcast skies combined with post-peak foliage and scraggly cedars arrayed in tangled tree roots and reaching branches, it’s a perfectly spooky place. Think Brothers Grimm meet L.L. Bean.

 A similar sluice of rambunctious rapids is found at the famous Whitewater Park in downtown Wausau. The short course offers twelve natural and human-made features with rapids ranging from Class I-III+ during recreational releases routinely held from summer to autumn. It’s the community of paddlers, however, that makes this a sacred place, irrespective of age or gender or anything. Whether it’s learning how to roll a kayak, play in waves, compete, or camp later that night along the banks of the park, the sense of fellowship fostered here is unique. Check out Ironbull to get wet, sweaty, muddy, maybe bloody, but make friends for life at ironbull.org.

Companionship is also cultivated at the family-run Stoney Acres Farm in Athens, alongside grass-fed cattle, pastured pigs, and a wide range of seasonal vegetables and fruits through its community-supported agriculture (CSA) program. But nothing tops pizza on a Friday or Saturday night, and all the ingredients are grown on-site and baked in wood-fired ovens. There’s no need to BYOB; small-batch beers and cider are brewed on site as well. For more on this destination gem, see stoneyacres farm. Last call for the season is Saturday, November 8th.

Just down the road from the farm is County Highway L. Go east only five miles, and you’ll cross the Big Rib River. Six miles upstream is another dazzling dells where Class II-III rapids crash and froth against boulder-strewn bedrock in a forested setting. Downstream, a formidable Class III ledge 10’-tall at Rib Falls County Park invites envy. Fun fact: the very center of the Northwestern Hemisphere is located only four miles away, where the 45th Parallel of Latitude intersects the 90th Meridian of Longitude – one of only four in the world (two of which are in oceans, the other in China).

Suppose you were to follow the foam-filled flow made from the falls another 20 miles. In that case, you’d be in an entirely different world – one of lush sand and considerable meandering, where the formerly swaggering river saunters towards Wausau. A new ADA-compliant watercraft access at Gulliver’s Landing, located at the confluence of the Wisconsin River, offers paddlers a nearly infinite array of choose-your-own-adventure on the water.

The state’s largest heron rookery is located on a small island just past the bridge at Rib Mountain Drive, where, in addition to the great blues, one might well espy green and black-crowned night herons as well as casts of egrets. Lake Wausau is formed by a dam, which backfills the mouth of the Big Rib, allowing paddlers to navigate the gentle current and numerous sandbars for as long and as far as they wish, all without needing to shuttle.

Speaking of mouths being filled, you might be hungry! The Wausau area has a lot on its plate. My favorite haunt is Sconni’s Alehouse & Eatery in Schofield. Their Cajun Shrimp Pasta dish is to die for, and their tap list feels like you’ve gone to heaven. Not only does the interior evince a woodsy vibe, but there’s a canoe perched atop a tree above the outside sign – a good place to brood.

Or perhaps your craving is food for thought – especially when the forecast is for the birds. Why not hatch a plan for the Leigh Yawkey Woodson Art Museum on Wausau’s east side? This autumn commemorates the 50th anniversary of its “Birds in Art” exhibit. To plan your visit, see lywam.org. And remember the “November” chapter in Aldo Leopold’s A Sand County Almanac: “The flock emerges from the low clouds, a tattered banner of birds…the wind wrestling lovingly with each winnowing wing.”

November is a space that can be both ominous and numinous, one of vigilant solitude or filled with kinship. The glitter of October is gone, but golden embers abound. Marathon County – Wisconsin’s largest – stores a treasure trove of adventures for those who seize the short days with the resolve to layer up and be outdoors mindfully. The skis and snowshoes will come out soon enough. For now, feel the cool air seal your skin and hear the rustle of rust-colored leaves still on skeletal trees. In the sun’s absence, light a fire to warm your own bones.

At the center of it all sits Wausau. From an Ojibwe word loosely translated as “faraway place,” the lonesome poetry belies how close to home it truly is.