The Highs, Lows, and Lessons of Running a Lodge in Wisconsin

If you read my very first blog post, you know this whole “lodge owner” chapter of my life started earlier than most people expect. At 19, while friends were moving into dorm rooms, I was painting, drywalling, creating a website, and so much more. Owning and remodeling a ten-room lodge wasn’t exactly a typical path—but once the bullet has left the gun, there’s no putting it back in. I was all in.

A few years later, I’m still here—tired some days, proud most days, and always learning. In this post, I want to share some of the lessons I’ve learned as both a business owner and a small-town innkeeper. Think of this as part storytelling, part “what really goes into making Highland Lodge what it is today."

1. It’s the people who make the place.

I’ve hosted wedding parties who’ve transformed our deck and pond area into a beautiful ceremony spot, family reunions that filled the hall with laughter, corporate retreats where new ideas sparked over pints in the pub, and road-trippers who just needed a soft bed after a long drive.

The rooms, décor, and grounds matter, of course—but the best part of this work is seeing how people bring the lodge to life. When we hosted our first wedding, watching the bride step onto the back lawn overlooking our pond with her closest family and friends gave me goosebumps—it confirmed that the lodge was made for moments like that, or hearing families swapping stories by the firepit after years apart. That’s why Highland Lodge works so well for private groups—you get the whole place to yourselves, and the memories made here are the kind that last.

Our first wedding down by the pond

2. The Hardest Part of Hospitality (And Why I Almost Quit)

This is the part nobody tells you before you start: sometimes, guests are difficult. In the early days, a single bad review or a tense interaction would crush me. I’d be devastated—lying awake at night, replaying everything, wondering if I’d made a huge mistake. More than once, I considered walking away entirely.

When you pour everything you have into a place—your time, your savings, your heart—it stings when someone doesn’t see it. But slowly, I realized that one bad experience doesn’t erase the dozens of guests who tell me they feel at home here. And if anything, those difficult moments toughened me up and made me double down on creating the best experience possible for those who truly value it.

That’s also when I started leaning more into the types of stays Highland Lodge is built for—intimate weddings, full-lodge buyouts for family gatherings, race teams, or private retreats. When the right people are here, the energy is incredible.

3. Hospitality isn’t a job—it’s a lifestyle.

Highland Lodge doesn’t close at five o’clock. It’s weddings that go late, families arriving early, snowstorms that don’t care about your schedule, and being the one who makes sure it all still works.

Some days, the to-do list is endless. But then there are the nights when the pub is filled with laughter, the mornings when the breakfast room hums with happy chatter, and the quiet evenings when guests tell me they’ve never slept so well. Those are the reminders of why I do this.

Chilin' by the fire pit

4. You can’t do it alone.

The truth is, Highland Lodge has never been just me—it’s been a team effort from the very beginning. My mom has taken on everything from catering to coordinating events, my dad has saved the day more times than I can count when things break, and my husband is the steady hand who fills in wherever I need him. Together with neighbors and guests who continue to support us, this lodge has grown into something bigger than I could have done alone.

It’s a community effort, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Small-town Wisconsin has this way of showing up for you, and Highland Lodge is stronger because of it.

Looking Ahead

Running a lodge has tested me in ways I never imagined, but it’s also given me the kind of fulfillment I didn’t know was possible. Once you’re all in, there’s no half-measures—you just keep going, learning, and finding joy in the people who walk through your doors.

This blog is my way of pulling back the curtain, so you get the real picture—not the glossy postcard version, but the honest one. Whether you’re here because you’re planning a wedding, looking for a family reunion spot, or just want a peaceful weekend away, I hope you’ll see Highland Lodge for what it is: a place built for connection.

And maybe, just maybe, my journey encourages someone else out there to take the leap on their own dream—even if it feels impossible, even if it scares you.

Until next time,

-Elle