(no subject)
My fanbase has reminded me that I promised an update, and it seems as if it will come in the form of a list of notable sights, moments, and observations.
- I've now been to 48 states - all of the contiguous ones. Alaska & Hawaii are all that remain between me and complete conquest.
- I like getting on a highway and driving the hell out of it. I particularly like the idea of taking it to its terminus, though we didn't do that on this trip. I still would like to get on I-29, keep blowing past Fargo, and head up to Manitoba and further north.
- Fargo is pretty neat. It seemed like the sort of town that the hip kids would rep hard, and while I'm not positive that is the case, it had all the touchstones I require in a livable city: Thai food, indie movie theater, indie bookstore, locally owned coffee shop, and the ability to live in an urban core, no matter how large. Bonus points go to Xtreme Pizza Kitchen for keeping Sid in vegan pizza.
- Bismarck is a real dump. It has no thai food, indie theater or bookstore. I guess it probably has a coffee shop somewhere, but there was zero evidence of residential in the desolate, tiny downtown. We considered getting Mexican food, but the joint we stopped at was thoroughly un-vegetarian - the refried beans were cooked in lard, the black beans (usually the safe alternative) were cooked in bacon, and the rice was cooked in chicken broth. We ended up at Olive Garden.
- We saw a lot of two things on the road in North Dakota: flooding and "world's largest" stuff. If I didn't know better, I'd think that North Dakota was the Land of a Thousand Lakes. The fields on both sides of the interstate were filled with standing water. The only indications that this was not the normal state of things were the fences running through the lakes and the railroad tracks running barely above the surface of the water.
- I've read all the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, and just prior to our trip read David Laskin's The Children's Blizzard, so I spend a lot of time thinking about the immigration patterns and poverty of the prairie. I like driving through the tiny towns on the state highways and wondering how many people are left, what they do, and whether they plan to stay. I wonder which towns have the high school and how far kids have to come from their ranches to go to school, and how many other kids get home schooled because it's just easier.
On our trip we hit the Enchanted Highway, a stretch of road leading from the Gladstone, ND exit on I-94 south to Regent, ND - one of those shrinking towns. A local man schemed to change that by leaving a trail of breadcrumbs, in the form of gigantic, whimsical (I rarely use that word but I believe it is appropriate in this case) metal sculptures at intervals of a few miles along the 30 mile stretch.
That trip was worthwhile though ended up with a cranky, achy Sid when I guided us for two hours through country roads to Regent, only realizing at the last minute that we then had to drive north the 30 miles toward the interstate to see everything. Just taking I-94 west would have saved us well over an hour of driving.
Oops.
I can genuinely say I didn't mind. That drive on the state highways through the lovely rolling prairie, seeing the abrupt cuts from erosion and the very content-seeming cattle, was one of my favorite parts of the week. We happened upon historical markers noting the old stage coach trail between Bismarck and Deadwood ran through these tiny towns, beautiful horse farms, and ballsy trees that had made a go out of it out there on the windy prairie. It was great. Sid agrees on all those points but thinks it would have been greater if we'd made it to our little cabin in the Badlands on schedule.
- But we did find this:
- Instead, we were wending our way through South Dakota as night fell and thunderstorms rolled in. We stopped in a town called Faith (where Sue the T. Rex was found!) for provisions and the hit the road as rain started. But about 20 miles out, we both grew increasingly nervous about the reports of golf ball sized hail and flash flooding in the already-flooded and pitch blank land. We turned back and ended up staying at the Prairie Vista Inn.
- Suddenly these posts get really long and I realize I've said absolutely nothing - left out the good parts of what I've already described, and already have several days left I've not even touched.
- Despite multiple people insisting Mt. Rushmore was small, anticlimactic, and even a complete waste of time, we were impressed by it. Perhaps because our expectations were so lowered? But truly, I don't know what people were wanting out of it that they weren't getting. The real highlight, though, was the Dwight Eisenhower root beer in the cafeteria.
- Don't eat Pad Thai in Rapid City, SD. It seems to be cooked in fruit punch.
- Do drive into Badlands National Park just before sunset.
- Do take a real camera and try some night photography (photos from Sid's Flickr account). The camera remembers so many more stars than I do.
- Do eat a doughnut at Wall Drug, though I must admit to being a little let down by the place itself. I expected an epic, trashy tourist experience; it turned out to be slightly less than epic.
- Don't overthink the dubious ethics of the roadside stop where you can feed prairie dogs. That ship has sailed, these prairie dogs want their Unsalted Prairie Dog Food (peanuts). At least they're not being kept in a concrete swimming pool, I guess. (photo from Sid)
- Do make a rest stop picnic special with a blanket.
- And do plan to travel north and west for weeks, or plan to come back soon. There's so much to see, but it's flung across great distances so there's no way to do it all quickly. And the great pleasure of this part of the country is simply ambling through, admiring the landscape and waving to the cows, horses, and pheasants that are running naughtily across the highway.
- And while I love the thrill of reaching the ocean or the power and reach of a mountain range, it's becoming clear to me these last few years that I find the prairie more enchanting than either. It possesses the vastness of the ocean, the irregularity and strength of the mountains, but with a subtlety and accessibility that the other two lack.
- My photos are here; Sid's are here.
- I've now been to 48 states - all of the contiguous ones. Alaska & Hawaii are all that remain between me and complete conquest.
- I like getting on a highway and driving the hell out of it. I particularly like the idea of taking it to its terminus, though we didn't do that on this trip. I still would like to get on I-29, keep blowing past Fargo, and head up to Manitoba and further north.
- Fargo is pretty neat. It seemed like the sort of town that the hip kids would rep hard, and while I'm not positive that is the case, it had all the touchstones I require in a livable city: Thai food, indie movie theater, indie bookstore, locally owned coffee shop, and the ability to live in an urban core, no matter how large. Bonus points go to Xtreme Pizza Kitchen for keeping Sid in vegan pizza.
- Bismarck is a real dump. It has no thai food, indie theater or bookstore. I guess it probably has a coffee shop somewhere, but there was zero evidence of residential in the desolate, tiny downtown. We considered getting Mexican food, but the joint we stopped at was thoroughly un-vegetarian - the refried beans were cooked in lard, the black beans (usually the safe alternative) were cooked in bacon, and the rice was cooked in chicken broth. We ended up at Olive Garden.
- We saw a lot of two things on the road in North Dakota: flooding and "world's largest" stuff. If I didn't know better, I'd think that North Dakota was the Land of a Thousand Lakes. The fields on both sides of the interstate were filled with standing water. The only indications that this was not the normal state of things were the fences running through the lakes and the railroad tracks running barely above the surface of the water.
- I've read all the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, and just prior to our trip read David Laskin's The Children's Blizzard, so I spend a lot of time thinking about the immigration patterns and poverty of the prairie. I like driving through the tiny towns on the state highways and wondering how many people are left, what they do, and whether they plan to stay. I wonder which towns have the high school and how far kids have to come from their ranches to go to school, and how many other kids get home schooled because it's just easier.
On our trip we hit the Enchanted Highway, a stretch of road leading from the Gladstone, ND exit on I-94 south to Regent, ND - one of those shrinking towns. A local man schemed to change that by leaving a trail of breadcrumbs, in the form of gigantic, whimsical (I rarely use that word but I believe it is appropriate in this case) metal sculptures at intervals of a few miles along the 30 mile stretch.
That trip was worthwhile though ended up with a cranky, achy Sid when I guided us for two hours through country roads to Regent, only realizing at the last minute that we then had to drive north the 30 miles toward the interstate to see everything. Just taking I-94 west would have saved us well over an hour of driving.
Oops.
I can genuinely say I didn't mind. That drive on the state highways through the lovely rolling prairie, seeing the abrupt cuts from erosion and the very content-seeming cattle, was one of my favorite parts of the week. We happened upon historical markers noting the old stage coach trail between Bismarck and Deadwood ran through these tiny towns, beautiful horse farms, and ballsy trees that had made a go out of it out there on the windy prairie. It was great. Sid agrees on all those points but thinks it would have been greater if we'd made it to our little cabin in the Badlands on schedule.
- But we did find this:
- Instead, we were wending our way through South Dakota as night fell and thunderstorms rolled in. We stopped in a town called Faith (where Sue the T. Rex was found!) for provisions and the hit the road as rain started. But about 20 miles out, we both grew increasingly nervous about the reports of golf ball sized hail and flash flooding in the already-flooded and pitch blank land. We turned back and ended up staying at the Prairie Vista Inn.
- Suddenly these posts get really long and I realize I've said absolutely nothing - left out the good parts of what I've already described, and already have several days left I've not even touched.
- Despite multiple people insisting Mt. Rushmore was small, anticlimactic, and even a complete waste of time, we were impressed by it. Perhaps because our expectations were so lowered? But truly, I don't know what people were wanting out of it that they weren't getting. The real highlight, though, was the Dwight Eisenhower root beer in the cafeteria.
- Don't eat Pad Thai in Rapid City, SD. It seems to be cooked in fruit punch.
- Do drive into Badlands National Park just before sunset.
- Do take a real camera and try some night photography (photos from Sid's Flickr account). The camera remembers so many more stars than I do.
- Do eat a doughnut at Wall Drug, though I must admit to being a little let down by the place itself. I expected an epic, trashy tourist experience; it turned out to be slightly less than epic.
- Don't overthink the dubious ethics of the roadside stop where you can feed prairie dogs. That ship has sailed, these prairie dogs want their Unsalted Prairie Dog Food (peanuts). At least they're not being kept in a concrete swimming pool, I guess. (photo from Sid)
- Do make a rest stop picnic special with a blanket.
- And do plan to travel north and west for weeks, or plan to come back soon. There's so much to see, but it's flung across great distances so there's no way to do it all quickly. And the great pleasure of this part of the country is simply ambling through, admiring the landscape and waving to the cows, horses, and pheasants that are running naughtily across the highway.
- And while I love the thrill of reaching the ocean or the power and reach of a mountain range, it's becoming clear to me these last few years that I find the prairie more enchanting than either. It possesses the vastness of the ocean, the irregularity and strength of the mountains, but with a subtlety and accessibility that the other two lack.
- My photos are here; Sid's are here.