It's called Vacation Concentrate. Don't bother to add water.
If a steamy, miles-long, cheese-dense strip of motels, tourist traps, and singular attractions sounds like a fever dream one can only sweat out in central Florida -- think again. You can join three million leisure thrill-seekers, as we did, who jostle for a parking space and a motel room in Lake Delton/Wisconsin Dells every year. It's one of America's most amazing Tourism Meccas.
Like any good mecca, The Dells -- as the towns are collectively known -- distort the conventional laws of road trip physics. Attractions that we'd normally drive hours to see, even on a rumor -- a giant rat statue, a pool with a candyland motif, a motel with pirate and moon theme rooms -- in the thick of the Dells are dismissed without a second glance. Sure, it'd only take a minute to stop, but who's got the time when there's SO MUCH ELSE TO SEE?
The natural beauty of the Dells -- the original reason people began coming here -- is, no doubt, somewhere out there, behind the cacophony of signs and soaring ride superstructures. Scan from your car for it, and you're sure to plow into the back of a SUV sitting in the strip's frequent bumper-to-bumper weekend jam-ups.
The famous kidney-pounding "Duck" Boats still grind their way through the Dells woodlands and plow into the river for those who want to commune with nature. The boats -- born-again W.W.II amphibious beach invaders -- ply the beautiful lakes and woodlands. More conventional boats take you past Stand Rock, a column of stone surrounded by water and longtime symbol of the Dells. A local man used to jump across a chasm from the shore to Stand Rock as each boat passed, then an Indian did it. Now they have a dog do it. The Indians still show up nightly for their Stand Rock Indian Ceremonial -- but they have to compete for tourist dollars with the jet-fueled Tommy Bartlett's Sky, Ski, and Stage Show further down the river. [November 2006 - No more Stand Rock Indian Ceremony -- the tribe has moved south on Highway 12 to their Ho-Chunk Casino.]
During a summer's day the white sky wraps around you like a warm and not necessarily welcome blanket, and a walk down Highway 12 gets you a head full of memories in a single afternoon. The Wonder Spot -- an X Files anomaly where the laws of gravity have conveniently gone haywire -- guards the southern approaches to The Dells.
Just up the street is Robot World, whose deceased billionaire owner, Tommy Bartlett, paid cash for Russia's spare Mir space station and brought it here as a tourist attraction. Dr. Norman Thagard in blue NASA coveralls -- first American MIR veteran -- speaks to Robot World visitors through the magic of videotape, although no one here can tell us what the Mir is made of or how much it cost.
The Dells appear to be cranking as never before. Robot World can't find enough local teens for summer work, so The Dells Chamber of Commerce imports them from places such as the Ukraine, Poland and Finland ("There are no jobs in Finland," one flaxen-haired youth tells us.).
Closer to downtown, where the cruise strip clogs at night, are the familiar mecca pilotfish: Dungeon of Horrors, olde timey photo booths, and U-watch fudge shops. The Dells pumps out more than two tons of fudge a day during the summer.
While the kids are left to exhaust themselves at Noah's Ark (the world's largest water park) the adults revel in the nearby climate controlled, year-around thrills of the Ho-Chunk Indian Casino. The fun rolls on even after the summer season, with The Dells boasting America's largest indoor water park (Black Wolf Lodge, since unseated by one of 15 other indoor water parks) and only indoor wave pool (Treasure Island in 1998, which a few seasons later was rendered un-unique by newer, competing wave pools).
At times, the Dells seems to be the World's Largest Snake -- which, by the way, can be viewed at Serpent Safari. The experience swallows us whole. It digests our lump of tourist enthusiasm and spending cash slowly, over the course of a few days. The Dells periodically sheds its skin of failing or marginal attractions, and tries again -- and again. Xanadu, City of the Future -- razed and replaced by an active volcano! Emerald City -- sacked and converted to Mad King Ludwig's arcade palace. [November 2006 - Both Serpent Safari and Mad King Ludwig have been replaced by other attractions]
Big Chief Go Kart dumped its Indian motif for pagan mythology, and built three giant wooden roller coasters -- all named for Greek gods -- and an awe-inspiring 60-ft-tall wooden Trojan Horse with hypnotic strobe light eyes. An elevated go kart track cleaves through its lofty belly. The go-cart hoisting Big Chief has been converted to a go-cart hoisting Trojan soldier. [2006: Big Chief has merged with Treasure Island.]
Mass Panic, a claustrophobic date attraction, strikes just the right note for us, though no guarantee it will survive into the next season....
Extreme World straps you into a bungie chair and fires you skyward; next door, in the former Haunted Viking Ship turned Alligator Alley, you're challenged to feed live alligators. Meanwhile, the world's steepest waterslide -- an eight-story drop -- drenches screaming teens at Family Land, while over at Crazy King Ludwig's the Battle Boat crews are firing tennis balls fusillades at each other while the Skyscraper, a two-bladed windmill with 80-ft arms and a seat at each end, spins its masochistic passengers end-over-end at 75 mph. Is this the end of the world or just the dawning of a new millennium of fun?
