The Perfect Blue Highway Rt.200

Rt.200, a Perfect Blue Highway
An evening in Fargo, no place like a motel to get in all the local fittings…......no, on to the next day, going out a ways on Rt. 10W to Casselton, north on Rt.18, farms, small towns, they all have banks, even the smallest of towns, farmers get paychecks from the government not to plant things here, John Deere is king in these parts, I spy in the distance, a 2063 foot straight line in the sky, the worlds’ tallest structure, the KVLY-TV Tower, beaming across the Plains, no cable needed here, just those old fashion rabbit ears, Mom you got any aluminum, and guide wires, not sure how those crop dusters get to spray around them, I would stay away.
Left on Rt. 200W, traveled it starting at the headwaters of the Mississippi, it starts off of Rt.2 around Floodwood, Minnesota, and goes to Missoula, Montana, I stop in Mayville for lunch, the best $5.99 special ever, Roast Beef, Mash Potatoes, Stuffing and Gravy, Watery Carrots with Soup, and for dessert Warm Bread Pudding with Pecan-Caramel Sauce, Yummy, full for the day, a great local haven, Paula’s Steakhouse, counter top with swivel stools, as a kid, I would spin and spin, and go around and around of these, and booths, too, there’s a regular dining room for others, my Waitress, a local gal Hilma Hovde, we talk local stuff, the other locals pay me no mind, and she says about Medora, ND there a restaurant the Pitchfork, they do fondue there, to these folks fondue is dipping large steaks in oil as well as other foods, and we talk about the Patriot Musical at the National Park, I am polite, not sure about the Musical, a mile away is Portland, population 100, no boats, yet the Goose River runs though here, while there check out the Rainbow Gardens, and the Delchar Movie House, there’s lots of community here.
Out of Portland, small farms, small lakes, migrating birds, a lonely pelican, this road straight and narrow, I feel like closing my eyes to see how far a can go.
My old joke was that if North Dakota was like South Dakota I have been there, its not as barren, the wind does not seem to blow as hard. On though Carrington, locals on riding mowers, like the farm, doing something, no idle hands, lots of large equipment on the road, and in the fields, sunflowers full with black seeds leaning over from the weight, a few more trees, small hills, big hay country, Texas over my left shoulder, Goodrich, seagulls?, Mercer, famous for Turtle Races, then Turtle Lake, I see now, then right on Rt. 83 for a few miles to Rt.1806, into Pick city, fishing, lures, bait, boats, here is the Lake Sakakawea Lake, an artificial lake on the Missouri River, on the Lewis & Clark Trail, I am sure they would not recognize the river now. Lewis and Clark met Sakakawea who led them to the West and on to the Pacific, along the Knife River were the Mandan and Hidatsa Indians lived, she was Shoshone, she was believed to have been captured at Three folks in Montana, she idenfied landmarks that led Lewis and Clark to the headwaters of the Missouri river, without her they may not have reached their goal, she also carried her baby son Jean Baptishe Charbonneau on the journey, there is little record of her life after 1806.
After setting up camp in the primitive campsite along the lake, by the dam, I am the only one here, no RV’s, just me, then out for an evening walk and drive to The Audubon Wildlife Refuge at Coleharbor, lots of birds, Hawks, Canadian Geese, small song birds, I spot a mommy deer and fawn, too. On the way back, the fields are being worked, a storm is coming, better get as much wheat in as possible.
Stopping to pee at the Honey Hole gas station/store, I asked the store owner where, he says “Westside”, I have a George Bush moment and pause, he says “W-E-S-T”, I have meet this man before, my Dad, instead of saying anything, I hold my need to pee, walk out, he is going my way outside, I am sure he knows what I was thinking, silently “A-S-S-H-O-L-E”.
62.9mpg/ 325.9 miles traveled

That night lighting and thunder, three hours in the car, too small to sleep in, back in the tent then more lighting, waking tired and exhausted, breaking camp. Did I mention the Black Helicoper Overhead,Hello!
Back onto Rt. 200W to Hazen for breakfast, not bad, chicken fried steak, eggs and hash browns, no chicken-fried steak like Texas, Sue’s Café, a nice waitress, a German-Russian Community here, in September it’s the Hazen Harvest Fest, soup & sandwich at the Lutheran Church, Brats, Quilt show, Chili & Bingo, an Ugly Pick-up Contest and Hazen’s Famous Turkey BBQ, and don’t forget Community Worship Service on Sunday, back on the road pass Beulah, then Zap, while taken pictures of a John Deere Hay Tractor, an old fellow, unshaven, local boy in an old dusty Chrysler turns left on this lonely road followed closely by a van, he stops, he's pissed, stops and tells me, "those bastards!!!", “I had my blinker on for a couple hundred feet”, “normally I have my 357, today I don’t, I would have blown out his back tires”, I listen, and tell him” hang in there, don’t let an asshole ruin your day”. Don't know who was luckier that day?
Called my brother George in Texas, not my biological brother, my real brother, he had been in Amsterdam, he had has coffee cup filled there, long delays to get home, they tock his toothpaste, eight hours of delays, Lets all fly naked. And the drum beats on!
Old Dutch Kettle Chips , been making them for 70 years here, and I made the first Kettle Chip in 1982, it’s all been done before, it’s the way you package and story today. Marketing, even if your story is not accurate, as long has they believe, it must be the true. Politics, Food, Life.
Into Mountain time, the Killdeer Battlefield, turn left on Rt.85, pass oil rigs, and Halliburton, I honk in protest, turn right on Interstate 94 to Medora, the Theodore Roosevelt National Park South Unit, great views, barren landscape, and prairie dogs, Teddy was an unknown public figure when he first came it the Little Missouri region in 1883, he became a rancher here, his conservation efforts are seen all around this nation today.
While viewing the museum, I spy a man dressed like revolutionary figure, I say” you look like you came out of a time machine”, he says “you do too”, after the film we talk, John Douglas Hall, is living James Madison’s life, the man that wrote the Bill of Rights, one of a kind, both of this men, in August of 1978, John began entertaining “as an 18th century Gentleman” at Gadsby’s Tavern in Alexandria, Virginia, he started to weave his life around a gentleman living back then, today he lives as James Madison in dress and voice, this is great man in American history, I was elated with his vision and passion to continue and educate folks of our early times and thoughts. For further inquiries contact him at jamesmadison@erols.com
This was a highlight for me on this day and of my journey, to meet this man with his conviction, his words and deeds.
Leaving with new found energy, back on Interstate 94 E to Rt.85 north, hoping to get to a place to stay, again bad weather approaching, up pass Grassy Butte, wanting to go to the North Unit of the Park, need rest, none found in Watford City, why, the oil business is booming, no luck securing a room here, tired and exhausted on Rt. 23W to Alexander, where the Ten Commandment greet you at the town’s entrance, no rooms here either, up to rt. 2E to Williston, the same story, I find a room, one of only two left in town, most motels are full, damn oil business. Back in Central Time Zone.
The good news, Jack & Jewels Bar-B-Que for some Beef Brisket, great Pinto Beans and moist Cornbread, back to the room to do nothing, 2 beers and bed.
59.9mpg/ 326.7 mile traveled today