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Driving makes me disenchanted. Listen: I need enchantment. So to avoid driving and to avoid becoming a bitter weirdo, I ride my bike as much as possible. Especially in the summer, when one is more likely to look outside and think “Wow, this is beautiful!” rather than “Wow, this is gross!” I won’t go into the benefits of cardio fitness or into a screed against SUVs. I will only say that beautiful days are more beautiful when you spend them moving to the best of your ability while breathing in fresh air. It’s possible to do while exploring one of Milwaukee’s best ideas: the Oak Leaf Trail.
Ditch The Car
I dislike driving. I dislike car culture, unchecked bloat, fossil fuel supremacy, and pollution. I abhor the pedestrian and cyclist hostility jacked-up trucks exhibit on roadways. (Don’t tread on me? Don’t fucking run me over!) I drive what might be the last stick shift ever made because it makes me feel sporty, even though it struggles to reach the right half of the speedometer and has a slew of electrical issues I’m too lazy to address. My small sedan is “outmoded” and “unsafe” even though, to me, it’s just a regular car. On the road I’m usually “too slow” and need to “be more aggressive.” All this and more according to passengers who shall remain anonymous.
Thank goodness I’m not the only one in this camp. In 1939, bicycling advocate Harold “Zip” Morgan imagined an alternative: a 64-mile bike path that circled Milwaukee County and followed bends in the rivers and natural corridors leading to Lake Michigan. Until 1996, the trail was reserved exclusively for bicycles. Today, the Oak Leaf Trail has expanded to include 135 miles of paved asphalt. It’s considered mixed-use for strolling, rolling, running, walking, and birding across 19 municipalities from here to Sheboygan. The best parts of the trail are woven between green spaces deliciously free from revving engines. I have cycled close to 60 miles of the Oak Leaf Trail and have never felt my blood pressure rise like it does on the highway. Oak Leaf: 1. I-94: 0.
We still have some progress to make on our bike lanes in Milwaukee, and a long, long way to go in curbing speeding, reckless driving, pedestrian endangerment, and other car-centric disasters that populate local news and my nightmares. There is a balm to vehicular disillusionment that is readily accessible and very well-maintained. An accessible trail is a powerful force for good. Teach your kids to roller skate. Whisper sweet nothings to a bee inside a flower. Become reacquainted with charm! All this and more on the Oak Leaf Trail.
Download An App
For this story, I started from the easternmost edge of Wauwatosa and headed west to the Menomonee Line where it linked to Hart Park and extended northwest along a continuous paved trail. Before putting tires to asphalt, I took a circuitous route to download the Park People app that allows one to access the Oak Leaf Discovery Tour Passport. It’s not really necessary for navigation since there are maps along the trails, but the digital passport contains points of interest along each line. It’s not super intuitive and costs $5, but if you’re happy to support park improvement and preservation, I think it’s worth it. The costs are also recouped in the form of buy-one-get-one-free beer deals at Lakefront Brewery, The Landing at Hoyt Park, and Third Space Brewing, and 10% off at local retailers like the MKE Indoor Outdoor Exchange. Probably worth it.
There are 14.75 miles on the Menomonee Line that cut through Doyne, Jacobus, Hoyt, Currie, and Dretzka parks. On the day I went biking, we were out of a heat wave and into the clearer summer days that make this season worth the wait. When I finally connected to the Oak Leaf via Hawley and escaped the busy traffic headed towards Bluemound, I felt the peace and repetition of cycling reset my nervous system, and started opening up to the possibilities of the ride ahead. I navigated comfortably, letting myself become a little less alert as the trail carried me over the trickling creek and into a sleepy Wauwatosa. I could feel my capacity to experience charm and beauty increase with each rotation of my well-worn tires.
It isn’t always interesting to read about someone else riding a bike unless they face elements unknown, dangerous, or sexy. My ride up and down the Menomonee Line was none of these. To an outsider looking in, the three hours I spent rolling along the paved trail on a clear summer day might seem too mundane to recount. But I think this is the beauty of such trails and city systems: they exist as spaces that require nothing from you and make no promises to entertain you. Parks aren’t selling you anything. They are autonomous spaces existing independent of our engagement. As a terminally online individual with a bad addiction to validation, I find myself in desperate need of outdoor spaces that function best when we can respect our mutual self-governance. As much as possible, I need to “touch grass.”
The Menomonee line reaches through the Wauwatosa Village, Honey Creek Parkway, and Menomonee and Little Menomonee River Parkways. You can hop on for a run or a cycle at any point on the line. Why not stop for a beer? Or bring a sandwich along to eat in one of the parks, as I should have done? My longest stop was at Hartung Park, where the prairie thriving on either side of a gravel path was vibrant and alive. I sat on a bench. I looked at the pond. I took pictures of clouds. I luxuriated in thinking about nothing at all.
What To Ride
The Oak Leaf Trail is beautifully accessible. I saw bikes, roller blades, wheelchairs, strollers, skateboards, and runners. Some were there to perform—carbon fiber and spandex, water packs and stop watches. Others were there to relax—slow strolls and dawdling and lounging in the grass. I like to combine the two when I bike. I ride a no-brand steel frame single speed in midnight blue with few upgrades and nary a bell nor a whistle to be seen. It was shipped to me in a box circa 2012 and has carried me thousands of miles across roads and parkways from coast to coast. The frame is heavy and chipped, the tires are a downright pain to remove, and the saddle is eye-wateringly stiff. It’s worth more to me as a philosophical statement than a monetary asset—a graceful through-line between all versions of the self that have come and gone over the last decade.
I love it for all its clank and rattle, for all the ways I’ve flown down streets novel and familiar, pitched over the handlebars on newly installed streetcar rails, spun out in stasis when the chain finally snapped. When I bike, I like power. I like balance. I like speed. But I also like to detour into wonder and charm, and sometimes I need to throw my bike to the ground and let those moments take over. You should take care of nice bikes, but my bike isn’t that nice. I can’t imagine selling the damn thing—partly because we share a rich continental story that wormed way down into my personal sentiments, and partly because it’s legitimately worthless. I guess there are perks to riding the world’s most unassuming road bike. It has never been tampered with when snugged up inside my Kryptonite chain, not in Milwaukee or Chicago or Kansas City or New Orleans. It’s what I will ride until I can afford a 1984 Bianchi Specialissima.
You can ride your vintage Bianchi on the Oak Leaf. You can rent a Bublr Bike cruiser or lace up any pair of sneakers to enjoy the trail’s many miles. You can throw your senior dog in a wagon or your kids in a bike trailer and go exploring. Having ideas? Good. Get out there!
Be Open To Charm
My ride along the Menomonee Line was pretty charming. If you spend a few hours on a bike and never worry about potholes or distracted drivers, this is an easy state of mind to achieve. Select enchantments from my ride: the orange bike repair station covered in stickers; the river so still it mirrored the sky; monarchs hovering over milkweed patches; bursts of prairie ironwood and cup flowers.
Without the stress that accompanies commuting alongside gas-guzzlers, it becomes easier to slip into an observant state that on a summer afternoon feels enlightenment-adjacent, cultivating a sense of peace and belonging in a free public space in close proximity to the natural world. This is worth fostering (and funding!) at a community-wide scale, and is one of the many reasons to celebrate the Oak Leaf Trail as one of Milwaukee’s best initiatives. By turning our attention towards the natural world, we are sustaining and preserving environments that can only return to us a sublime indifference. There is a profound freedom in acknowledging that we continue to grasp at meaning when the universe provides no answers. The more we care about natural environments, the more we acknowledge how necessary it is to remove ourselves and our desires from the processes required to sustain their independence from humanity.
What does Albert Camus say about this feeling? That the absurd is born of this confrontation between man’s desire to reason and the unreasonable silence of the world? Something along those lines. Sections of this trail can be understood as universal microcosms, or ways to microdose grandeur. Sure, Milwaukee’s Oak Leaf Trail is not the Alps or the Grand Canyon, but it has creeks and coneflowers and patches of wild prairie that trigger in the observant rider a sense that one need not travel far from home to brush up against the sublime. If you wish to pay your respects, bring a diary on your ride. Record thoughts along the way.
If your heart is beating and your senses are open, I bet you’re receptive to this kind of thing. Charm usually finds a way inside.
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