When I woke this morning, I knew I loved North Dakota even more than yesterday. The skies had partially cleared and the sun was illuminating the park in a sea of iridescent green like a vision from a long forgotten fairy tale. The park was still very nearly empty, with only four campers stretched out over the more than 100 sites on the east side campground. After morning tea we unhooked the bikes for a very windy but exhilarating ride through the park, along the whitecapped lake, and around the west campground.
Have I mentioned the battery problems with the Tracker? Sometimes, completely unexpectedly, the battery will be dead. Totally silent kind of dead. Since that first time back in Spokane, it has only happened when it is still hooked up, but is more of an annoyance than a really serious problem. This morning it was dead again, and Mo decided that maybe she wasn’t doing something wrong and she just needed a new battery. We were in luck. Checking the Road Atlas for a Wal-Mart showed one right in Devils Lake, just a block away from our already planned stop at the Exxon for propane. Details. However those details did slow down our travels a bit and after buying propane and a battery, we didn’t get out of Devils Lake until after 11am.
It was to be an easy day, though, with only 200 miles to Bemidji, our planned destination. The roads were clear and straight, with huge wide medians filled with green. Have I mentioned green? And blue? There is so much sky in this part of the world, and even when it is half covered by clouds there is so much blue. In fact, seeing sky that goes brilliant blue all the way to the horizon in all directions is a treat that I was looking forward to and could only imagine. I know the west is beautiful. Westerners always have to make comments about this part of the country, “but it’s so FLAT”. “I couldn’t live without the mountains.” Well, I do love the mountains, and I love the west, but with mountains in the west come fires and haze and murky skies during much of the summer when it should be blue. Today was blue. And green. And white. It was an amazing day of brilliant color and sky. Yesterday I fell in love with North Dakota, and today I fell in love with Minnesota.
Now my daughter will accuse me of being a soil nerd, but I also had a blast using the iPhone SoilWeb application developed by Toby O’Geen at UCDavis. You just hit the screen, and in a minute your gps location finds the soil that is mapped there and a screen pops up with the soil profile, the description, and the classification. The application is essentially using web soil survey, but it’s great fun to get it on the fly. So when the phone tells me I am crossing a fine smectitic frigid Aquertic Argiudoll, I know by this name that the climate is fairly cold but not in summer, that the soil has wetness issues, that is has cracks in it from the fine clays, that the surface is deep and dark, and that it gets summer rain. I am not sure if any other scientific classifications explain so much about the thing they are classifying.
We stopped in at a visitor center just inside the state of Minnesota and while I continued to drive, Mo reviewed some of the possibilities for the next few days. She started reading about the Itasca State Park, where you can walk across the Mississippi, and we couldn’t figure out just where it was, but she thought we needed to go there. A conversation ensued about timing, and how we were going to make it to Niagara Falls if we kept wandering off to do other things than what was originally planned. About that moment, a sign appeared, Itasca State Park, 21 miles south, and within a moment we made the decision to go there. For me this is the best part of a road trip, that spontaneous moment when you just take the turn down the road, unplanned.
Itasca State Park is where the headwaters of the Mississippi River emerge from the lake on their journey to the Gulf of Mexico. The river is the third largest in the world, and it drains more than a third of the entire United States. Here in the park, the river is just a riffle without a thought of what she will become. The interpretive center had excellent maps and posters describing the area, the river, the history, and so much more. There were campgrounds there, and initially we thought we might camp, but then decided that we could still get to the park in Bemidji by six or so and it would be a bit further down the road so we headed back north.
Garmin Girl has been silenced, but she still is giving directions that are usually very good. Yesterday she tried to take us across some very wet dirt roads on the way to Devils Lake, but today she navigated the way to Bemidji State Park without a hitch. This park is much more closed and shaded than Devils Lake, but still isn’t crowded at all at the moment. We were offered a pull through electric site and took it happily. After a simple setup and pizza for supper in the convection oven we took off walking the Homestead Trail to the Rocky Point Overlook on Bemidji Lake. The trails are extremely well maintained, wide and well planned, surrounded by deep, moist hardwood forest. I do love the hardwood forests, and I am sure that before this trip is over I will have many more photos of sunlight backlighting the leaves through the shadows.
Once back at camp, I discovered to my amazement that here, in the middle of the forest, in Bemidji Minnesota, I have free internet access compliments of the Minnesota State Park System. So while Mo built an evening campfire, I uploaded the last couple of days photos, and finished writing blog entries as well.
Who knows when I will have access again, but for now, this is great. The humidity is high, but not unbearable because it is cool. The mosquitoes aren’t as big or prolific as I thought they might be, although we did put on some DEET for the first time since we left on this trip. The night is quiet and still, with no rain in sight, no thunder to wake us. Maybe a really good night of sleep awaits!
About 30 miles north of Bismarck is the very well done Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center. The center is beautifully situated overlooking the Missouri River Valley with dramatic steel sculptures of bison silhouetted against the horizon and a nice bookstore and gift shop. There is a 7.50 fee to view the exhibits, which includes a trip through Fort Mandan about two miles down the road and would take at least 90 minutes to complete. We skipped that part, but I bought a great book by a native North Dakotan, Clay Straus Jenkinson. “Message on the Wind, A Spiritual Odyssey on the Northern Plains” is a collection of his essays. His style is somewhat like Terry Tempest Williams who writes in much the same way about about Utah and the Colorado Plateau, and is one of my favorite writers. 
Late last night under the dark North Dakota sky, I read this passage: “Then came a few drops of hot rain, dust-spattering rain, and thunder and lightning as no member of our crew, perhaps including me, had ever witnessed: threshing, scouring, clashing, streaking, urgent, crashing, orgiastic, pounding, anarchic, punishing, apocalyptic, zigzagging, cross-hatched, grotesque, pandemonic lightning. And then, briefly, heavy rain, or rather sheets of water pretending to be rain.” I felt that thunderstorm, and knew we hadn’t seen anything like it so far on this trip through the Dakotas. But I am coming to love North Dakota in a way I never imagined, crossing it’s wide open lonely roads, seeing the coulees and valleys, the badlands and the glacial moraines stretching out to forever. Whoever said North Dakota was flat wasn’t really looking. It is anything but flat, and so far anything but boring. I have to come back to North Dakota and explore it more slowly, take in the Lakota culture expressed here so deeply, and the story of Lewis and Clark that bisects this land the same way it bisects my own land in the northwest. But back to today.
After leaving Minot and continuing east, the storms got heavier and darker, and when I had sporadic reception with my iPhone I managed to connect long enough to see the red bands moving northeast on the local radar and the tornado warnings on the weather site. Laurie and I had just discussed what to do in a case like this, so I asked Mo, “What county are we in”? Where is there a shelter around here?” 
Finally arriving at Graham Island State Park by 6, the skies had cleared even more and the rain stopped altogether. This state park is wide, open, and expansive, on an island surrounded by water. Devils Lake is the largest natural lake in North Dakota, and famous for its northern pike and walleye fishing. The campground was almost completely empty, and even though it is only Monday, it still is the week before Labor Day! We settled in to a pull-through site, and decided that any kind of outdoor activity would have to wait until morning when the winds and clouds would hopefully subside a bit. 
Chores completed, we headed north to Killdeer a little before noon, although we still aren’t sure if this place is in Mountain Time or Central Time because my phone keeps switching. The trip north was uneventful and a bit dreary with the low gray skies. Once in Killdeer, Mo drove around searching for old home sites and remembering some of the family stories associated with her birthplace. Mo was born in Killdeer, but her family left when she was three or so and moved to Oregon. She came back often later in life because her parents returned to their roots here in Killdeer after they retired. I looked around the very small quiet town, imagined the winters of North Dakota, and wondered aloud just why they felt they wanted to return. Did they still have family here? Did they miss these wide open skies and low rolling landscapes? 
Mo pointed out the building that once housed her uncle’s sweet shop, and the home where her father’s parents lived when he met her mother. We had no clue how to find the Oakdale Cemetery, with no address Garmin Girl was useless, and of course the phone had No Service. Being Sunday, everything was closed up tight, even the police station. I finally found a mechanic working in his shop on a back street and hopped out to ask him where the cemetery was located. In true North Dakota fashion, he said, “Well, it’s about 4 miles north on 22. I think there is a sign there, but I’m not sure. Let’s see…it’s past the Robert’s place, I think. Been there a lot, but can’t remember how I get there. You turn west, and go a ways.” I wish I could put that accent in writing because it was classic. Solid and true high north country man. 
We traveled north, and yes, there was a sign, so we went “a ways” and actually found the old cemetery. Mo thinks there was a small community there at one time, but no more. We tramped through the grass and weeds until we found her grandparents and their baby son, the Ross family, a common name in “these parts'”. By the time we drove back south through Killdeer it was after 3, or 2, depending on which time zone we accepted. The line goes through here somewhere, but by tomorrow we will definitely be in Central Time on our way to Minot.
%5B5%5D.jpg)
Eastern Montana was beautiful and we finally crossed the Wide Missouri.
The wind blew hard all night, yet it never really cooled off until this morning. We are surrounded by thin lodgepole pines with a few subalpine fir trees in this high elevation habitat, more than 5000 feet. I was surprised at the warmth, and could feel the difference in the air. We are over the Continental Divide and the climate is now more influenced by continental air masses rather than the Pacific air flow that controls much of the weather in the northwest. The major difference is felt in the summer rains that happen east of the Rockies. Out west we have a long dry summer, and the soils reflect that difference. The deep dark soils found on the plains get summer rain. 
After being in the close up hills of the California foothills, covered with thick brushy vegetation, I especially appreciated the wide view of sky and plains. Subtlety becomes the norm, with small differences providing entertainment. As the miles slid by I noticed that the grasses on the right of ways were becoming more lush and green, reflecting the increasing precipitation as we traveled east. 
Around mid day, we reached Havre, Montana, a town I have heard of through work but never seen. There is a soil survey office in Havre, and it’s difficult to get soil scientists to apply for the MLRA Soil Survey Leader position for some reason. As we drove into town, Mo checked the AAA book and found information about several interesting historical sites that we decided to take the time to visit. Something I am discovering about our NUVI is that a specific address is usually required to find something. When I search for attractions, I get things like bowling alleys and golf courses, but not campgrounds and cultural attractions like the one we wanted. I do hope that when I get access again to Garmin.com, I can buy extras that hopefully include campgrounds! After a bit of a mix-up regarding the location of 3rd Ave vs 3rd Ave W and 3rd St, 
we found the chamber of commerce. Havre has put of lot of thought and resources into it’s historical value and we took brochures for the Havre Residential Historic District Walking Tour and the Havre Business Historic District Walking Tour. Our main choice was the Havre Historical Underground Tour, however, so we decided to walk just a Historic Bungalow portion of the residential tour. There were some charming bungalows, but many of them seemed to be a bit run down, without a great deal of work. I love bungalow style, and in places like Boise, Idaho, and Spokane, Washington, there are some gorgeous renovations of bungalows, kept true to style. Of course, I remember the bungalows in Pasadena that I loved as a kid, and now that whole area is called Bungalow Heaven. It’s on a destination list for another trip someday.
A quote from the brochure: “Havre was a community that was instrumental in the taming of the West. It was a melting pot of races, and racism was prevalent. For this reason, the ethnic mixtures of black, red, yellow, and white created an explosive atmosphere and created the rough and tough town to be tamed. TO this mix was added the refinement of another class of people whose temperament drew them to the concert hall and theater productions that were so lavishly provided. A cross-section of this melodrama is presented in the historical underground tours, bringing to life the successes, the good times and the tragedies of those early years.”
We left Havre by 2 or so, and headed east again to our original destination of Fort Peck Dam. Prior to Havre, much of the skies were murky with haze. I wondered about this, if you can’t find clear skies in Montana, where are they? I suspect much of the haze was due to the bare fields and harvest in progress, but it was good to get out of it as we approached Fort Peck. Mo picked this campground from an internet search, and we often try to find something near water so we can kayak if time allows. We both knew that our history tour no doubt cut short any kayaking time, but still it was at first a bit disappointing to see that the campground was below the dam, and the river wasn’t even accessible from the campground directly. 
The bike ride was wonderful, and we saw several deer and a lovely sunset. Even though we are in eastern Montana, somehow it feels much more Midwestern, similar to Nebraska, and I kept forgetting that we were still actually in Montana. There were even cicadas singing in some of the big cottonwood trees. It was a lovely end to a lovely day, and we capped it off by using our lovely electricity to watch a DVD, “Did you hear about the Morgans?”. A silly bit off unlikely fluff, but not demanding in any way and of course, a bit entertaining. I think all the funny moments in the movie are shown in the trailers. That was a bit disappointing, but it was still fun to slow down enough to watch something anyway. 
We slept wonderfully last night in the quiet of the North Idaho forest, untroubled by any worries of intruders, lights, or noise. It cooled off to a pleasant 45 degrees overnight and sleeping with the down comforter and no fans was perfect. Chet stopped in around 7 on his way to his morning meeting just in time to catch us almost completely buttoned up, with the baby car attached. He said Georgette, (not a morning person) was already awake and waiting for us to come up to the house for breakfast. Once up there, we were treated to fresh eggs from her hens, some of the yummy roasted potatoes from last night sautéed with chicken basil apple sausages, homemade granola with honey and yogurt and fresh blueberries. I enjoyed having tea the way Georgette does it, strong and black with honey and milk. 
Not far from Troy, the road passed the Kootenai Falls Swinging Bridge Park, and we decided that it might be worth a turnaround. It was worth every bit of the effort, which actually wasn’t much since traffic on this road is almost nonexistent and the turnarounds are wide and long. The park is lovely, with clear paths leading to the river in two directions, one to the bridge and the other to the falls. Midway there is a span of stairs that crosses the railroad tracks, an excellent plan for the safety of all the people hiking to the falls, but a little bit tough for Abby in her bare feet and her fear of walking on something with holes in it that looked far down to the ground below!
The swinging bridge crossed the canyon over the river, was sturdy and well built, but swung just enough to feel a bit exciting over the rapids. The falls were wild and free, with many pools on the ledges and several runs between rocky cliffs. It was warm and a bit humid, but a perfectly lovely morning walk. 
About 35 miles west of Kalispell, we passed a lake district which appeared to created by dams on the river, but they looked like natural lakes, not reservoirs. We passed Thompson Lake State Park, and Mo said, “Gee, can we stop yet?” Tonight we are planning to go to the Williamson Park Campground near Shelby, but don’t have a reservation for this first-come first-served park. We can stop anywhere we want! Although 200 miles east of our destination might be a bit premature! Again we passed another lovely lake, called Macgregor, long, narrow and blue, without much sign of habitation on the perimeter. There are lots of fishing signs, and some cabins. The smoke thinned a bit as we traveled east. 
Sometime this morning, we had a brainstorm, although I am not sure just what started it. Our original plan was to travel north from Grand Forks and go into Canada through International Falls. However, reviewing the maps, and talking with Chet last night, we realized that Highway 2 extends as far east as Maine, and is a dotted, scenic route almost the entire distance. On the map, I saw the road leading to Duluth, then through Wisconsin and Upper Michigan to Sault St Marie. Recently some RV blogging friends have been traveling the area extensively and singing the praises of the UP. Once we get to Kalispell, I am going to cancel the two provincial parks we have reserved in Ontario and we are going to travel Highway 2 much farther east than we originally planned. During the planning process I was excited about seeing Thunder Bay and Northern Lake Superior, but now I am excited about the change in plans, and we can go to Pictured Rocks National Seashore. More importantly, however, we can add Wisconsin and Michigan to our state decal on the back of the MoHo! Yes, Laurie, I will watch the ships in the locks, even more meaningful for us since we just transited the Panama Canal last January!
Highway 2 follows the southern boundary of Glacier National Park, but there weren’t many places to pull over for photos of the peaks. Near West Glacier, the peaks appeared snow free and rocky, with fire smoke dulling the view somewhat. Once in the distance, I saw a patch of white that appeared to be a glacier, but that was all. The road, however, was lovely, with forest and rock, river and mountains all around us, I remembered that I found two forest service campgrounds along this road while internet searching a few months ago, but didn’t choose them because I thought they weren’t far enough along our route. It was so beautiful, however, that we decided to try to check them out to see if they might work for our evening stop. At the Continental Divide, stopping for photos of the monument there, was a campground entrance, with reasonably wide paved roads and only one other camper in sight. Driving through it didn’t take us long to agree to drive the extra 85 miles tomorrow to reach Fort Peck Dam where we had pre paid reservations. It was worth it to take advantage of this delightful campground. 
It wasn’t far at all to the town of Newport on the Washington-Idaho border. I had traveled through Newport many times in the late seventies and early eighties when doing soil mapping north of there at Priest Lake. This appeared to be a different Newport, with cute shops, and nice looking streets. Twenty years ago Newport was a small, somewhat depressed town that was considered a bit backward. The bridge across the Pend Oreille River appeared new as well, and on the Idaho side was a Rotary Club visitor center still in development stage. We pulled into the easy wide lot and checked out the interpretive signs with stories of the historic river passages in this part of Idaho. The river from this route is truly magnificent, flowing wide, clear, and green through forests and open river terraces dotted with well placed homes. These homes aren’t cheap, and even in the early 80’s, living along this river was an unaffordable dream. I can imagine that the flood insurance isn’t cheap either, since I remember the river flooding often.
A bit farther east we stopped at Albeni Falls Dam for photos and more interpretive signs. In all the years that I traveled this road, I never actually stopped here, so was glad for the opportunity to view the dam, the river, and the stories. Again, we pulled out for views and photos of the river, with Garmin Girl giving us plenty of time before our planned 1pm arrival in Bonners Ferry. She even routed us through Sandpoint without taking us through the narrow winding downtown portion with ease. North of Sandpoint we found a small picturesque lake with a roomy parking lot and a bit of shade for the MoHo. Mo took Abby for a swim while I made tuna sandwiches for a relaxed lunch before we continued north to our destination.
Georgette has been Mo’s friend since she boarded her horses at the ranch in Montera in the 70’s. She since married Chet and five years ago moved with her horses, chickens, sheep, and dogs to Northern Idaho. Chet’s dream was to build a cabin in the mountains, and what a cabin it is! Georgette is involved in animal rescue and her special love is training and showing Australian cattle dogs. Her dogs have won best of breed and other awards she is very proud of them. Georgette, however, lived in California most of her life, loves the fog of the Pacific coast, and the life there. North Idaho is a completely different world, with long cold dark winters, icy roads, and isolation. I loved hearing her story about discovering that she didn’t need anti-depressants, just a Subaru! After that discovery, she has become more involved with friends and community nearby and is accepting her new home.
What a home it is! The “cabin” is log, designed by Chet, built elsewhere, and then erected on the property. Originally a simple cabin, it evolved into 2.5 floors and 4,000 square feet. The windows have a magnificent view to the west of the Selkirk range, and the barns below. 
Chet met us at the lower driveway, where unexpectedly we needed to unhook the baby car to get around the curve. This is a bit of a challenge on a bumpy, hilly, gravel road, but with Chet’s help we managed, and soon settled into our own private level campsite with power. It was just a short walk up the hill to the house, but the road was steep and narrow and would have been a stretch for the MoHo even with the baby car unhooked. It was still incredibly hot for this part of the country, so we left the air conditioner on for Jeremy and walked up to the house to catch up on old times with good friends.
When we arrived back to camp from the bike ride, Laura arrived with a huge bowl of fabulous veggies from her garden to add to our supper. We cooked the pork chops and corn on the cob outside, while I did some rice and a salad in the MoHo. It was wonderful having some time to visit and catch up on our children, families, and doings over the last couple of years. Laura and I haven’t seen each other since she visited me in Klamath a few years ago, so this was an extra special treat. It was nice having Don there as well, and he and Sharon took Abby down to the river for a swim.