Reentry

We are in the badlands in the southwestern corner of North Dakota. The land called Makoshika (bad spirits) by the Lakota, and in French, les mauvaises terres a traverse (bad land to cross). But not so bad nowadays being that I94 slices through the southern tip of Theodore Roosevelt National Park (locus for the most striking vistas) and historic cow town Medora is nestled there with ice cream parlors, the Iron Horse Saloon, and gift shops galore, some more appropriate for Williamsburg than a town built around a slaughterhouse. This is not the Dells. The town is truly historic and the local foundation does a good job of preserving and highlighting its past with a minimum of kitsch. The Medora Musical, set in the Burning Hills Gulch just over a hill from the town, may strike some as a little over the top with frontier spirit, but it is done well and fun for the family. A new addition, the Cowboy Hall of Fame, does a lot well in a modest space, using multimedia and a comprehensive take on the people and processes than shaped the western range (including substantial coverage of Native American culture).



For me this—meaning the badlands of the national park—is a sanctuary space, a place to reconnect with a very long line of creation, and to re-create. Having been to somewhere north of 50 national parks and monuments, this remains my favorite. Not the most spectacular in vistas and inclines, not the most enriching in historical and cultural exhibits, and certainly not the largest since the southern unit where I wander is about the size of the city of Chicago. But in freedom of access, striking topography, concentration of wildlife, and harmony of light and form (photographically speaking), this park stands apart.


Imagine a rumpled bed sheet and you have an idea of this eccentric land, creased and furrowed into haystack hillocks, knife-edged ridges, and capstone buttes and outcroppings. This park measures something like 20 miles by 10 miles and within that space you can encounter bison, elk, mule deer, whitetail deer, coyotes, badgers, pronghorns, wild turkeys, and loads of prairie dogs. So a lot to offer, depending on what you are looking for.



We are now closing on 4,000 miles and four weeks of travel, and out of that we have spent 12 days in the cab of a Ford F250 pickup, with a 28-foot fifth wheel trailer attached, rolling through the northern plains prairie, Rockies and Cascades, the Puget Sound, the orchard lands and vineyards of eastern Washington, and the rangeland of western Dakotas.


We have acclimated ourselves to the road and the anticipation that tomorrow or the next day delivers a different perspective. Our trip has been about reconnection (friends and family in Omak, Seattle and Bozeman), prayer and parting (my wife’s mother in hospice in Walla Walla), and chemotherapy for our dog Suki at vet clinics in Montana, North Dakota, and Seattle (we may have a guide book out soon). Two adults, a college student and two white dogs adapting to the quirks of trailer life, and a shifting panorama, and each other’s moods and tastes (the college student has cut back on the Cheez-Its, and is now overdosing on anime clips using the campground wifi service).

Last photo was last night of the Little Missouri River. And the end of the road tomorrow. We have a few rocks for the garden, a case of Walla Walla wine, and hundreds of pics, but the really precious acquisition is the shared experience. Even at $4.21 a gallon (Washington) it was worth every mile.