(Day 25-26) We embarked on one of our longer drives, setting out from Goshen with Hixton, Wisconsin plugged into our
multiple navigation systems. Anticipating the usual slowdowns, especially through Chicago, we were pleasantly surprised to breeze through the city with barely even having to tap the brakes. As we got near Hixton, we could feel the wind picking up, but it only slowed us down a little. We rolled into Hixton before 2 p.m., feeling like we had somehow cheated the system.
As we started setting up at the local KOA, the wind kicked in like it had a personal vendetta —gusts were pushing over 40 miles per hour, and the temperature had dropped enough to make us wonder if we’d accidentally taken a wrong turn into January. Hats were flying, compartment doors were slamming shut on their own, and I spent a solid five minutes trying to convince the sewer hose it wasn’t cleared for takeoff. It felt less like setting up camp and more like running an RV obstacle course with a side of wind chill. After that challenge was completed, we settled into the warmth inside of Wild Blue Yonder.
I guess this is where I should mention that this was the first night of trip where I had to break out the leg prisons (aka long pants). Between the wind and temperature drop, I even had to put on a coat. Wisconsin had clearly not received the memo about the 80 degree weather we had not too far away in Indiana.
A week prior, my friend Eric from Orange Beach reached out, asking us to let him know if the Roadsheaux would rolling through anywhere near Hixton. At the time, I figured the odds were somewhere between slim and none—Hixton wasn’t exactly on my radar. But sure enough, when I pulled up my trip planner, there it was: an overnight stop just six miles from Eric’s house. Sometimes the road just knows what it’s doing. 
That evening, Eric and his wife, Kim, introduced us to Castle Hill Supper Club. I’d never been to a “supper club” before. I found it reminiscent of cherished Southern eateries—establishments steeped in history and tradition. Castle Hill lived up to its reputation, offering a warm and welcoming atmosphere that made us feel like regulars by my second drink. The service was exceptional, and the food was great. The fried fish was
particularly noteworthy, crispy on the outside and tender and meaty on the inside. To cap off the meal, I indulged in a Pink Squirrel—a dessert cocktail that reminded me of ice cream, but with alcohol inside.
We wrapped up the night with a stop at the Turtle Pond Tavern, a relaxed neighborhood spot where we had a nightcap and swapped a few more stories with Eric and Kim. Their hospitality was unparalleled, making our brief stay in Hixton truly memorable.
The next morning brought a cool crisp temperatures that served as a reminder that our days of floating around the lazy river were far behind us. I managed to avoid a second round with the leg prisons, but the coat definitely came back out. Before hitting the road, we stopped by the Hixton Cheese and Village Market, a cozy little store packed with local cheeses, meats, preserves, and small-town charm. The market was a treasure trove of Wisconsin's finest. We loaded up with two big bags full of tastiness for half what it would of cost us at home. Thanks to Eric and Kim for the recommendation—it was the perfect way to end a very memorable stop in Hixton.
