R and J in the USA

One of the lovely things about this trip is finding out that each state has a reason to be in love with it and to want to live there. Sure, each state has plenty of reasons not to live there, too. Which is good, because it helps us all spread out across the fifty states rather than all trying to crowd into any one. But there is something to love in each state. From the vantage point of being brief passersby, not needing to interface with the factors that go into navigating building a life somewhere, we are finding ourselves easily able to find those reasons and feel that love.

North Dakota, the second of four states Ryan had never set foot in before this trip, was a state that got to both of us in a deep way, and, once again, in a way that neither of us expected.

We started off our journey in Grand Forks with our North Dakota 5K. This race was part of a particular slice of our 50 states tour adventure. In coordinating dates and geography with our schedules to hit a 5K in each state, we would be running two 5Ks in the same day! Our Minnesota 5K in Detroit Lakes started at 8:30 AM. At 11:45 AM, we would run our North Dakota 5K in Grand Forks after a two hour drive. We ran in Minnesota, got right in the van, drove the two hours to Grand Forks, and had just enough time to hop out of the van, stretch, loosen up, grab our race bibs, and be at the starting line for race two at 11:45. It was a whacky thing to do and super fun. And, yes. We were tired afterwards.

The race itself was a wonderful experience thanks to the people we met, the cause we were contributing to, the beauty of the course, Ryan’s superlative performance in it, and the chance to get a quick glimpse into the charming town of Grand Forks. You can read more about it in our 5K section. You can read about one particular person we met at the race, a young, enthusiastic freshman at the University of North Dakota, Alaina, in our People Along the Way section.

We saw famed wood chippers at the visitor’s center in Fargo. We were absolutely delighted by Fargo’s ability to feel like an urban center and a small town at the same time. We stopped to see Beetlejuice Beetlejuice at the historic Fargo theater. And Julie didn’t have to cash in her birthday present movie coupon to have Ryan go. He wanted to see that movie. Even more so, he wanted to see a movie in this old classic theater. He loves classic theaters for their architecture and history.

We hung out in Broadway Square Park. Ryan partook of coffee shops, Julie of boba shops. Julie found a place that specialized in waffles. When she found out they had gluten free, well, you know the rest of the story. 

After our day in Fargo, as per her commitment to watch movies whose tie to a place we’re visiting is significant, Julie watched the 90s classic that bore the city’s name. Only now, after being in the actual city of Fargo and paying more attention, did she realize that almost none of the movie had anything to do with Fargo at all. None of the events happened in Fargo, and much of it happened in Minnesota. Still, Fargo is a snappier name than Minnesota. The movie, though disturbing, was great as always.

By this point, we were already super into North Dakota, and we had only scratched the surface. We made the drive south deep into rural North Dakota on a superlatives tour, hitting the world’s largest catfish and the world’s largest hamburger frying pan in the same day.

Though it’s hard to imagine anything getting better than those two stops, we were in for an evening at what would enter the running as one of our favorite stops of the trip, and one of our favorite campgrounds, when we made our way to the Sheyenne National Grassland.

On our way to the grassland, we passed through a town that had a museum, a church, four saloons, and that’s it. That was the whole town. Saloon next to a saloon, across the street from a saloon next to a saloon. We imagined, if we’d stopped and entered one of them, every scene we’d ever seen of an old west bar being entered by fish-out-of-water eastern city folk. We never found out if that would be a reality or not as we carried on to our destination.

Driving through the backroads of southeastern North Dakota was the dustiest undertaking of which we’ve ever been a part. You can’t see if there are any cars behind you because the dust clouds rising up in your rearview mirror are just too big. And the dust is so fine that when we opened the back door, the bug net and many of the things behind it were covered in a fine brown sheath. The whole van had dust inside of it in gentle but noticeable quantities. Julie coughed for much of the dusty drive with a slight smell of dirt filling her nostrils even though it appeared to be outside closed doors. But we didn’t mind. Nor did we mind our campsite being the one with the most flies we’d seen since Assateague Island in Maryland.

It’s hard to describe what made the grasslands so beautiful because it’s just, well, grasslands. It’s what North Dakota would look like if it wasn’t covered in agricultural farms. So much of the heartland has been turned towards agricultural production. And there is a beauty, a stillness, and a peace to that as well. Julie couldn’t help but think of if from an ecosystem perspective, knowing she knows way too little to really understand it, but enough to know that it’s not insignificant to turn so many acres into corn and soybeans. But it’s all beautiful in its own way. Still, there was a certain something stunning seeing that land that would otherwise be ripe for agriculture left to be what it wants to be on its own. It was stunning, and we really didn’t want to leave.

But we did leave, and we found that North Dakota was only just getting started in striking us with awe. We had a few more superlatives to hit – the world’s largest sandhill crane in the town of Steele and the world’s largest buffalo in Jamestown. Jamestown had an old timey town set up and we delighted in checking out each spot. The bank. The old post office. The old land surveying museum. The exhibit dedicated to Jamestown native Louis L’Amour (an author of Old Western novels). And, of course, the jail, where we both found ourselves convicted of some petty marital crimes for which we were ordered to serve time.

We made our way into Bismarck to partake of the capitol, the state museum, and yes, of course, some more boba tea. That treat had replaced our deeper summertime phase of ice cream jaunts as the new must have in each town.

The North Dakota state capitol was the first to strike us in a very different kind of way. It was the first capitol we would see that didn’t boast a dome, but rather a tower. And it was the first we saw that had an Art Deco architectural style, like the Empire State Building in New York City, that we most certainly didn’t expect. Admittedly, we were underwhelmed by it from the outside, as we couldn’t even tell right away that it was the capitol building. Once inside, we came to appreciate its style and, as always, what it had to teach us about its state. It had a wonderful exhibit called Rough Riders Hall of Fame, where portraits hung of North Dakota residents since Theodore Roosevelt who had been making achievements that exemplified the values of the state. We read through them all. It was neat. Eventually we decided the building, even on the outside, represented its state fairly well, being both humble and strong in presentation, much like the state at large. 

We walked the short distance from the capitol to the State Museum and enjoyed learning about North Dakota and its history – ancient, old and recent. We also learned about the French Gratitude Train from after World War II that neither of us knew about. We both found it a powerful thing to see.

We made our way down some more dusty roads to Cross Ranch State Park and to our campsite right along the slightly less so, but still very much mighty, Missouri River. We had tremendous views of its banks and its curves from the hill of a running path. We ran into some folks who happened to be one of only three other groups that had been at the little campground back in the quiet Sheyenne National Grassland! We had the best time comparing notes of life on the road. You can read about them in our People Along the Way section.

The next morning, we stopped at the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center in Washburn and took a tour of Fort Mandan. As always, we were edified and enriched by all we learned.

Julie still needed to swim in North Dakota and had her sights set on Lake Sakakawea State Park. The views when we got there were heavenly. Once again, we never wanted to leave. Julie spent some amount of time successfully shooing bees out of the van that had snuck in through the occasional gap in our bug nets. When making her lunch she didn’t notice the bee feasting on the jam jar. She yelped as the sharp pain of a sting shocked her. Ice was applied and the pain was quickly forgotten when the opportunity to plunge into the lake’s clear waters was presented.

Later, in our first stop in Wyoming, Julie would get a kick out of the delightful and ridiculous coincidence the bee sting produced. 

So far, we had loved every single minute of our time in North Dakota, wanting to linger for days everywhere we’d been. As we hopped in the car to head to Theodore Roosevelt National Park, North Dakota simply said, “Hold my beer.” 

We headed west. Before we knew it, we were in the place that Teddy Roosevelt had gone when he needed to be someplace so beautiful he could heal from the heartbreak of losing his mother and his wife in the same day. When we got there, we understood why this was the place that inspired him to become the conservation president and be instrumental in creating the national parks we were now the fortunate and grateful beneficiaries of a century plus later. The badlands of North Dakota are gasp worthy.

We rolled into the town of Medora, located at the entrance to Theodore Roosevelt National Park. Medora was pure cowboy country, and embraced it. We were quite sure we had arrived at a place we would definitely never want to leave. Yes. We know. We are sounding like a broken record. But, wow. We took a driving tour through the park and ooohed and aaahed constantly. We walked on a path 100 yards below a crowd of bison. We were equally in awe and on alert of these mammoth, striking creatures. We climbed up a wind shaped hill to overlook the Little Missouri River and felt something moving us and moving in us. Yup. This is definitely a place a person could come to heal from tragedy. Something in the wind. Something in the scenery. Something in the place.

We were bummed that we were three days too late for the closing night of what we had seen advertised throughout the state, the Medora Musical. We had been looking forward to seeing it. Alas, its season ended on September 7th and we arrived on September 10th.

When walking through the small old west town of Medora, now replaced with modern restaurants and shops in old timey design, we were amazed to find a theater that was advertising tonight as their opening night for the Broadway musical “Ring of Fire” about Johnny Cash’s life. Having only just entered the mountain time zone, we knew we’d be too tired to stay up for the whole thing. We felt we had to do it, though, so we went for the first act. We enjoyed the theater almost as much as we enjoyed the show, and we had a great conversation with a fellow traveler sitting next to us. The traveler was a gentleman from near Glacier National Park in Montana who was on a motorcycle trip. He told us where to go and what to say to get a free drink on him when we passed through his neck of the woods.

In the morning, Julie went for a run along the Little Missouri and a bike ride that was another reminder why she has to bike in every state. There are places and views you’ll never see unless you hop on two wheels, and Julie was so grateful to see such beauty before needing to say goodbye.

We left a little piece of ourselves in North Dakota. Or maybe it’s that we found a little piece of ourselves there. Either way, we sure were glad we both finally made the time to go.