I’m always amazed at how the woods just sorta stop, and that prairie starts. That’s the way it was on U.S. Route 2 this afternoon, outside of Bemidji. The route up to Grand Forks was a series of straightaways. Farmland. Pulling off in Grand Forks, you quickly notice how cool that little town is. Promising, for such a remote area. It’s unfair to count these places out. I’m learning this lesson over and over again. Once we got going into North Dakota, that route straightened out ever more, and we beelined it over to Minot.

Minot is a “base town” with a monster Air Force base to north, known for its arsenal of scary-ass nuclear warheads percolating below the surface. The stuff of nightmares and sunless atmospheres. Was scared of them at 9, as I am at 36. Let’s get rid of them, Mr. President.

We’re at a Holiday Inn, and it’s a bit of a splurge. We were beat out by the gypsy contractors up here with there big trucks and “we’ll take whatever you got” policy for hoggin’ up all the cheap rooms around town. Comfy beds here.

We passed up where the Mississippi starts. By 20 miles. Next time.

A rather wicked arrow spotted by a big walleye.

Lots of this.

A reason to pull over and look up.

An establishment where dreams are made, Minot, ND.