Dubuque is an old river city built on a limestone bluff above the Mississippi, in the north-east corner of Iowa, where the state meets Illinois and Wisconsin. About fifty-nine thousand people live here, and the town's history goes back to 1788, when a French-Canadian trader named Julien Dubuque, with the permission of the Meskwaki people who lived here, began mining the lead that lay close to the surface. He died in 1810, and his grave, a stone tower above the river at a site called Mines of Spain, is now a state recreation area with hiking trails and views over the water.
The town grew rich in the nineteenth century on lead, lumber and river trade, and the old buildings tell the tale, with handsome brick warehouses, steepled churches and big Victorian houses on the hillside. The Fenelon Place Elevator, a tiny cable car that climbs a steep bluff for one of the shortest and steepest scenic railways in the world, has carried passengers since 1882, and the ride at sunset, with the river spread out below, is one of the pleasures of the town. The National Mississippi River Museum and Aquarium, down on the waterfront, explains the river's ecology and history well.
The Great River Road runs through Dubuque, following the river along the bluffs, and the stretch north toward Guttenberg and Prairie du Chien is among the most beautiful in the Midwest. The river here is wide and slow, with islands, backwaters and limestone cliffs, and bald eagles winter in large numbers near the locks and dams, with the best viewing from November to February. The roads are well surfaced, with gentle curves and low traffic, and the speed limits are modest. In autumn the bluffs blaze with maple and oak.
Fuel and food are plentiful in Dubuque, and there are many local restaurants serving pork tenderloin sandwiches, a Midwestern favourite, and good beer. Cross the bridge to East Dubuque in Illinois for a different view of the river. Summer is hot and humid, with thunderstorms, so spring and early autumn are the best seasons. Come at the end of the day, when the barges slide past in the dusk and the sound of the river drifts up the bluff.