30-Nov-2025 -- Returning to central Illinois from eastern Wisconsin after spending a refreshing Thanksgiving weekend with family, I couldn’t help but work a confluence visit into my adventure (as is typical for most long drives I do these days). I spent more time in Wisconsin than originally planned on this chilly Sunday morning, as an early-season snowstorm the previous night had turned the region into a winter wonderland on this last day of November and final day of meteorological fall. On the heels of a smaller system just a few days prior that brought a couple additional inches of snow (which affected my travel on my way north, but allowed me to bag another Southern Wisconsin confluence ) all while temperatures had remained below freezing through the weekend, this region was in its fifth straight day of a winter preview! Accordingly, even the top-notch Wisconsin road crews took a little extra time to make the area safe for travel. I have nothing but respect for those folks–working day and night throughout a holiday weekend to keep travelers safe is a heroic task. Balancing this unexpected delay with the goal to not return to Central Illinois too late (the next day, of course, was a Monday workday), I preferred to find a confluence on the path of least resistance–this made today’s destination an easy choice. 43°N, 88°W is an easily accessible point that lies in the heart of the Milwaukee metropolitan area, almost directly on the quickest route between my Point A and Point B.

I approached the confluence from the north, entering downtown Milwaukee on Interstate 43 South. My drive through eastern Wisconsin was gorgeous. Old Man Winter’s decision to make Thanksgiving weekend feel more like Christmas likely derided many Wisconsinites, but I was more than satisfied–I love a good snowy scene, and the aforementioned snowstorm brought 8-14 in (20-35 cm) of fresh early-season powder to the Milwaukee area. My confluence detour began by exiting onto I-94 West in the heart of the city, then onto Miller Park Way and passing right by its namesake, the now-renamed home of the Milwaukee Brewers (though most Brewer fans I know won’t drop the Miller Park name!). The park has a very distinct shape when viewed from outside (not at all resembling what most might conjure when thinking of a baseball stadium), as it boasts North America’s only fan-shaped retractable roof, allowing southeast Wisconsinites to enjoy America’s pastime rain or shine (or even snow!). A full month and a half removed from the Brewers’ heartbreaking semifinal loss to the Dodgers, the field was quiet for winter but served as a great waypoint–I was on final approach to my abstract destination. Sure enough, after just a few more minutes on some busy suburban streets, I was in West Allis, the inner-ring Milwaukee County suburb of 60,000 that plays host to 43°N, 88°W.

I turned off of busy Beloit Road into the confluence neighborhood on Buchanan Place. It was immediately evident just how easily accessible this point was. As it turns out, this intersection is a mere 350 feet (110 m) from the confluence, and one needs to travel down Buchanan for just one block to arrive there–43°N, 88°W lies almost exactly at the three-way intersection of Buchanan, Dreyer Pl, and 70th Street. Alas, the biggest challenge wouldn’t be anything directly related to confluence access; it would be parking. The National Weather Service reported that West Allis had been served a whopping 12.1” (31 cm) of snow from the previous day’s system, and the fantastic efforts of West Allis city services to get the roads easily driveable less than 18 hours after impact resulted in, of course, shoulder snow drifts several feet (1-3 m) high, so street parking on the side was limited as the road was narrower (and still slushy!). Luckily, I found an unclaimed spot about a block south, right at the intersection of 70th and Arthur Avenue, only about 260 feet (80 m) from the confluence. Like Joseph Kerski mentioned in his visit 13 years ago, I typically enjoy a longer walk to the confluence, but in these somewhat treacherous conditions, I was going to take what I could get.

My destination being blanketed with the most snow accumulation I had seen in years, I made my southern approach to the confluence walking up the middle of 70th–the sidewalks were not fully shoveled yet. The street is certainly a road less traveled, as I encountered zero issues on my barely-a-minute walk. The decimals on my GPS app rapidly ticked down, and before I knew it, I was there–“the only degree point which is 88° longitude West and 43° latitude North in this part of state”, as the plaque captured in most of the prior 13 visits so eloquently describes (a rather underselling title, as it is the only place in the world that meets those qualifications!). While the plaque wasn't visible today under feet (meters) of drifted snow, I was centered all the same, and my 24th confluence and second in the Badger State was a success! This was my second time intentionally standing on the 43rd North parallel (my first being one degree west of here just five days before) and my second time doing such on the 88th West meridian (my first being three degrees south of here in Illinois about two months prior).

The confluence lies right along the 70th St curb cut for house 2442, a home on the east side of the street very typical of this neighborhood, a community of Minimal Traditional homes, a classic hallmark of mid-20th century American suburban development. Interestingly, this confluence is just like its western neighbor in the sense that it lies in the apron of a private residential driveway, though in this case, the neighborhood seemed to be far more active (West Allis being, of course, a thriving suburb and not a quiet seasonal lakeshore community like Lake Ripley). As a result, I stayed on the sidewalk or in the street the entire time–no need to get up in the business of the homeowners. After all, this strategy allowed me to stand on the line of latitude and get within eight millionths of a degree of longitude–easily close enough. Standing here and taking in the surroundings, I instantly noticed this was one of the louder confluences I had been to. Aside from the typical bustle of a major metropolitan area (e.g. engine noise and car horns on Beloit, planes overhead, a distant siren or two), there was also the unmistakable chorus of the post-snowstorm dig, including the scrape of shovels, the whir of snowblowers, the engines and reverse beeps of heavy machinery still on their clearing duties, and, joyously, the sounds of children playing in the snow. I also heard a nearby dog barking its head off, undoubtedly jealous that s/he wasn’t also zero-metering a confluence (the dog doesn’t have it too ruff though–it’s clearly within 100 meters). The weather was quite cool for late November–temperatures hovered around 30°F (~-1°C) with a stiff breeze from the northwest. Skies were at least sunny, making the area very bright from the highly reflective fresh snowpack (interestingly, the first of the now 14 visits at this easy cold-climate confluence to feature such a site). After a few minutes hanging around with only a dogwalker to break up the quiet neighborhood scene, I decided it was best to get back on my way to the Prairie State.

Just before my return to the interstate, I paid a visit to a Kopp’s Frozen Custard location for a post-confluence treat–no matter the temperature, I am always game for a frozen dessert, especially if it’s Wisconsin frozen custard. Milwaukee is known as the “frozen custard capital of the world”, and the dish is one of the many delicacies that earn Wisconsin the title of “America’s Dairyland”. I’d heard of Milwaukee-special Kopp’s from family and friends for years, but now was my first go at trying it; let’s just say their chocolate milkshake ensured I will be going back for more–a great end to a great diversion! In the meantime, though, my focus was on I-94 East and the Illinois line–it was time to head home. As I departed Greater Milwaukee, I couldn’t help but ponder: would this be my final confluence of 2025? How doable would the more rugged confluences be during a brutal Midwest winter? Of course, only time would tell…