Karakahl Inn
I think I was remiss in not relating my experience at the Karakahl Inn in Mt Horeb, WI, my home for the two days I was there for Uncle Bob’s funeral. I ask you to click on the link to get another blogger’s perspective on the building and its history, along with a pretty accurate assessment of its current state. I just want to tell you about my childhood recollections of the inn and my experience there in February.
As you already know from reading Julie’s blog, the building was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, one of America’s most distinguished and bold architects and a native of Wisconsin. As a child I did not know of the building’s distinguished pedigree; I only admired the dramatic sweeping wooden arches that marked its entryway. It always struck me as being a special place.
So when, for the first time in my life, I had a reason to stay in Mt Horeb, it was my first choice. Truth be told, there weren’t many options as Mt Horeb has just one other hotel and it looked like it might rent by the hour. In any case, I was very happy to find space at the Karakahl (now called the Karakahl Country Inn) and looked forward to my stay there.
Well, my first surprise was that the dramatic entryway had disappeared, to be replaced by a Walgreen’s. The less dramatic motel portion (seen above), was intact, but I had to drive through the Walgreen’s parking lot to find the no-longer-so-obvious entrance to the inn. When I arrived, after 10pm on a Friday, I found two cars in the parking lot and a nearly dark office, lit just by a single fluorescent light. With growing trepidation, I entered the reception area…
… and found the least hospitable hotel reservation desk that I have ever seen. Stark, dark and COLD. Remember, it was below zero outside and it couldn’t have been much above zero inside. Totally unheated. In Wisconsin. In February. Incredible.
It was also deserted. A black phone on the cutout countertop had a sign that said “Dial 9 for Assistance.” I did just that and got a woman with a strong Indian accent and background noise of several children screaming. I said I was there to check in and heard her yell to someone – her husband, presumably – that they had a customer. The husband appeared a few minutes later in full Wisconsin winterwear, complete with earmuffs and mittens and proceeded to run my credit card and have me sign the register without ever removing them – a remarkable feat of mitten dexterity that probably came from much practice.
Anyway, I had to think of Hotel Impossible and wonder what Anthony Melchiorri would say about that “first impression.” Nothing good, I am sure.
As I was leaving, the owner informed me that the room thermostat was set to 60. But it would be ok if I wanted to make it warmer.
Gee, thanks.