I headed back north from Bascobel, Wisconsin and rejoined state highway 60, which had become the line from which I improvised - or simply got lost - as I made my way across the southern part of the state. Highway 60 meandered along with the Wisconsin River and its attendant wetlands until joining US 18 and curving up into Prairie du Chien. Not to be confused with Un Chien Andalou, much as my brain made the connection. I crossed the Mississippi from Prairie du Chien, reluctant as I was to leave a state with such a commendable reverence for cheese and beer. The Mississippi is particularly expansive at Prairie du Chien; I thought I was crossing two or three rivers, given the several channels that flowed around the islands in their midst. Right across the river, Iowa began with wooded bluffs. Not exactly the way one pictures the state. But soon enough, the land flattened to endless corn fields, already harvested, shorn and tilled. ...