Border Crossings and North Dakota

I am still in the northern plains. This is my first time traveling through these parts in the winter. I am impressed. Part of this stems simply from my love of the open road, knowing that something unexpected always lies ahead, and that no matter how well or not well a trip may be planned, something always goes differently than anticipated. The other part of this is that the extent of openness in the prairies is just phenomenal and the emptyness interspersed with an occasional farm gives a feeling of time standing still.

We started the day in Regina, Saskatchewan, drove to the border and then Sarah caught a ride with a fellow curler to the curling tournament in Fargo. We thought it better for her to ride with someone who could get her there on time, rather than trying to push the travel time with Owen and the dogs. It’s been wonderful having Sarah along, and especially helpful having the extra hands because I seriously don’t have enough hands for the four dependants that I am traveling with otherwise. As I say often, I am blessed in life with some amazing friends. However, still, it’s nice to experience a little “alone” time for half of a day. So, I guzzled coffee, cranked my tunes, sang along loudly, and found my own rhythm of the road for the day. But, this time, for the first time in my road trip experiences, my rhythm also included several rousing games of “I spy.”

I had intended, when I first started planning this trip, to title my description of my travels through North Dakota, “The Redemption of North Dakota.” But then, Michael wrote about the “Redemption of Houston,” and “stole” my imaginary title. Funny. But, I think it is appropriate anyway. I have been to Houston, and I definitely agree that it needs the redemption far more than North Dakota.

The winds blow constantly here, and after years of Fairbanks’ windless climate, it feels harsh. But, in the vast, empty stretches of road and in the warmth of the car, it brings something almost magical. The sun shines brightly, reflecting off the snow and adding to the brightness, in the clear blue skies, but the road is shrouded in the swirling mist of the constantly blown snow. It adds a mystical quality to the drive, the way it feels when taking a walk on a foggy day. Then, all hell breaks lose and the comforting feelings are swept away as soon as you open a door.

Each day of this trip, I am waiting in dread for the expected road-weary melt down of either the child or one or all of the dogs. So far, it hasn’t happened. Owen is a complete gem, happily entertaining himself for the most part in his own little world in the back of the car and the dogs seem content to just be warm and sleep in the back. I almost forget that they are there, except that Thunder occasionally feels the need to pop his head up and lurk over Owen. But, Owen seems to enjoy the bonding time, so all is good.

So, we made it to Fargo in time to “watch” some curling, or rather, for me at least, pass out in exhaustion on some seats at the curling club. Owen, when we got there, commented that, “Mommy, I thought that a curling club was a place where you go to get your hair curled, but it isn’t. I already have curly hair anyway, so I don’t need that.” Perceptive, isn’t he?

So, this morning, we are in Fargo, about to hit the town, in search of the following: a place for an oil change, the children’s museum, the dog park, Happy Harry’s Bottle Shop (a great name for a liquor store), and the Fargo Celebrity Walk of Fame. Fun for all!!!