Tuesday, August 5

We left Billings, Montana with a bit of a resigned sense that there wouldn't be much more spectacular scenery encountered. I drove while Ken handled a conference call and regularly switched from his phone to his computer. One of the joys of having very good onboard wi-fi is that Ken cannot monitor my driving as closely, so I was free to adjust my speed to the traffic. Not that there was much traffic, but occasionally there would be a car or truck. In Montana and North Dakota the speed limit is 75 miles per hour, which means that one is generally zipping along at between 80 and 85 miles an hour. These are enormous and vast stretches and the roads are very well-designed and maintained - why not maximize the opportunity? I kept thinking that on these roads, at these speed, commuting to Boston from Hawley would not be unreasonable. None of the drivers was remotely aggressive and just to be sure, someone had erected handsome billboards with enormous white backgrounds and elegant Helvetica type messages in charcoal that read, "Be Nice" or "Be Polite".

Little Big Horn river and battlefield

While we made no major sightseeing stops, we managed to get a sense of the land. There were building lots (20-acre minimum) along the Yellowstone River and I daydreamed about building a small wood and stone (local yellow stone) untilI realized I wasn't seeing any electrical poles, and after I glanced at the gas gauge we were scouring the landscape for any signs of a gas station. It's hardly the most remote part of the United States, but it's a far cry from midtown Manhattan. We were definitely in the northern Great Plains. In Montana we passed through the northern edge of the Custer battlefield along the Little Big Horn. Occasionally the rocky buttes and canyons along the Yellowstone River gave way to stretches of wheat fields or endless range. Crossing into North Dakota we passed through the Teddy Roosevelt National Park and the Painted Canyon before entering the broader, more gentle plains that only grew greener and greener and more and more cultivated.

The Painted Canyon, North Dakota

By the time we reached Fargo it was clear that drought was not an issue: there were numerous small lakes amidst the fields, and the trees along rivers and tributaries were flourishing, displaying vibrant greens.  In drier areas to the west, the colors had tended to be muted greens and sages, all with a silvery cast. One virtue of the open plain is that space is no issue whatsoever: it's like a vast gallery waiting for art to be installed, and clearly that opportunity was accepted by many. We have driven by enormous manmade buffalo, cowboys, dinosaurs and a 12-foot chicken. Small towns here must be burgeoning with budding Oldenburgs.

Salem Sue - world's larger Holstein

Today we'll cross Minnesota via Minneapolis and arrive this evening in Madison, Wisconsin. While we won't yet be in the Eastern Time Zone, this strikes me as being pretty far east and within striking distance of terra cognita.