chapter 13

Green BayNo place in America, it appeared, was too far from a scenic park where people could gather and relax just by walking around or absorbing all the natural beauty. Just half an hour from Amar’s home in Neenah was High Cliff State Park. It is situated on limestone cliffs that were once sacred to the native Americans and owed its name to the location.Some of the burial mounds built by the indigenous people of America still existed and gave rise to the myth that the place was haunted. That would have added some excitement to our trip, but there wasn’t even a hazy outline of a ghost there, only some solid statues of native Americans, the most famous being that of Red Bird, the proud native American chief of the Winnebago tribe who, sadly, died in jail in spite of his hope that the White man would kill him rather than humiliate him. Well, there was a statue to remember him by. Maybe his spirit lives on. We never saw any sign of his people, though.We wandered around the lower levels of High Cliff, the only state-owned recreational park on Lake Winnebago. If something is called High Cliff, it is sacrilege not to make a superlative effort to climb higher and higher. We explored a couple of simple trails but the higher level, while seeming more attractive, also appeared unsurmountable. The rocky face of the cliff threw a stony challenge. The others were preparing to turn back when I noticed a narrow uphill path hewn on it. The overgrowth had hidden it from view.I started up. My old climbing skills and my walking shoes didn’t let me down—I didn’t slide to the bottom. Instead, I clambered to a tougher trail and then hailed the others. ‘Hey!’They hadn’t even missed me till then. Now they looked around but not up. ‘Where is she?’ I heard VK’s voice.‘Here.’ My delighted shout caught their attention and they all followed, including a very impressed VK. We followed this with another ascent—up an observation tower made of wood this time, and were rewarded with a terrific view of the surrounding areas.After the exhilarating climbs, we returned to the car and headed to Green Bay. So many of the names in and around Neenah reminded one of the lost culture of the native Americans including, of course, the name Neenah. Green Bay, a forty-minute drive from High Cliff, was different. It was first settled by the French and now home to one of the most famous sports teams in the States—The Green Bay Packers of the National Football League. Amar told us the waiting list for season tickets to their games is probably the longest in the world and the lucky ones who possess it hand it down from generation to generation as a precious heirloom.Like Fond du Lac, Green Bay’s origin was French. It used to be called ‘La Baye Verte’. French for Green Bay, so christened by the French explorer Jean Nicolet because of the greenish colour of the water. Had he looked up instead, he might have called it ‘Le Ciel Bleu’—‘Blue Sky’. If only he had come during a storm and seen the churning, muddied waters, we might just have got a novel name.Apart from Lambeau Field, the home field of the Green Bay Packers, Green Bay has one superb attraction—The National Railroad Museum. Tucked into a quiet corner near the Fox River, it houses a wonderful collection of old trains and all kinds of artefacts and memorabilia from the history of railways in the U.S.The moment we entered the museum, the two men rushed ahead and disappeared. Trains and planes have this effect on them. I love trains too, but their love is greater than mine. Arpitha and I knew they had to be somewhere inside, but where? VK was oblivious to my calls, while Amar responded but kept his voice down to such a conspiratorial whisper that Arpitha gave up. We decided to explore the museum at our pace and finally found them inside a train.The place is fascinating. You travel through time, from the early machines that helped the colonisers move westward, to the giant steam locomotives of the early twentieth century to sleek electric trains with luxurious interiors and jet age looks. Outdoors, in big sheds are many of those locomotives and some of the famous carriages. The most famous is the ‘Dwight D Eisenhower’, a state-of-the-art locomotive that the U.S. general had used during his travels in Europe during World War II. After making history in Europe, here it was at Green Bay, thrilling visitors along with other famous machines and coaches.There was nothing resembling the TGVs of France or the bullet trains of Japan. You could make out, as you strolled around, that the automobile and the aeroplane had left railroads behind, at least in the U.S.Nobody minded that we clambered in and out of those historic trains and engines. It was a special feeling getting into trains that have become history. VK and Amar kept forgetting us in their eagerness to pull themselves up the high steps into engines, and sitting in the driver’s seats of giant steam locomotives. We had to yell for them to hoist us up too. Some of the engines had wheels so huge they dwarfed all of us.Like at all the other museums, we could have spent much, much more time there and not got bored. VK, Amar and I couldn’t help recalling the rich and wonderful National Rail Museum at Chanakyapuri in New Delhi that we had visited when Amar was eight. And how did we end this exhausting but totally satisfying day? With a fortifying dinner at Olive Café, of course.