Parfrey's Glen, Wildest of Them All, a Cool Retreat, Prodigal in
Charm--Mill a Memory
Parfrey's Glen is a rugged gash in the south range of the Baraboo
Bluffs. This ravine, an interesting objective for tourists, is about a
mile down the slope from Wawanissee Point and some five or six miles
east of Devil's Lake. It derives its name from Robert Parfrey, an early
resident.
The little stream which has cut this wildly beautiful glen had a
romantic history of usefulness in early days. At the present time it is
secondary in interest to the Glen itself, the first glimpse of which
enthralls the visitor, urging him to journey to the end.
The route from Baraboo to Parfrey's is along the Merrimack road in a
southeasterly direction. It leads up a bluff, then down on the opposite
side, turning to the left and clinging close to the base of the
elevation for some two miles, until it turns into the farmstead of
August Roese, located a quarter of a mile north of the main highway.
Here the car is abandoned. To reach the Glen a tramp of a half mile is
necessary, along a trail which leads over glacial boulders, across a
mountain stream, and up a winding way to the opening. The view, as one
progresses, includes a charming expanse of rich countryside.
Wildest of Them All
Compared with the other glens of the region, Parfrey's is by far the
wildest. The south wall of this ancient cleft in the bluff is almost
perpendicular. Only occasionally does an overhanging ledge afford a
footing for wood creature or habitation for shrub or fern. High above
pines, birches, oaks and other small timber crowd the brink. The cut
shows a mass of sandstone and quartzite conglomerate which have been
exposed through a long period of erosion. The north slope is clothed in
green. Rugged rocks lie along the purling stream, as if cast there by
giant hands to impede the pathway. Between them flourish ferns, mosses
and an interesting number of native plants. Looking down from the top
of the opening the water winds in and out among the moss-clad stones
like a translucent ribbon, making soft music whose melody is lost as
the stream finds its way to the grass-land. Many birds haunt the Glen;
the indigo bunting, the oriole, and scarlet tanager with their
brilliant coloring contrast sharply with the grey of the rocks. The
note of the song sparrow, the trill of the thrush, and the less marked
twitter of many other varieties are heard with delightful frequency.
This cool retreat, so prodigal in charm and comparatively easy of
access, should be more widely known than it is to visitors to the
Baraboo region.
Mill, a Memory
In early days the Glen-stream was harnessed to a sawmill located near
the ravine. Evidences of the ancient, earthen dam are visible to this
day. In later years a gristmill made use of the power, for some time
serving the surrounding community. A story which illustrates the extent
of these activities, particularly that of the gristmill, is often
related. It seems that the miller was one day greatly puzzled at the
non-appearance of flour as his wheels ground round and round. Searching
for the cause, it is said, he finally came upon an intruder, no other
than a small grey mouse, which was devouring the product of his mill as
fast as it sifted through. Also it is told that a distillery at one
time, by the aid of the little stream, converted corn from the
neighboring fields into "robin hop." During this interval the Glen
seemed in grave danger of becoming a popular resort for all those who
suffered with a barleycorn thirst and a desire for seclusion.
Fortunately for the reputation of the locality, the existence of the
worm in the wilderness was brief.
Save for the turf-covered ruins of the ancient dam, all record of the
early enterprises is obliterated and memories of the Glen's activities
alone remain.