The long road to Bismarck, North Dakota

The drive to North Dakota is looooooong. By the time Puff Lite was forging along the Interstate towards Bismarck, North Dakota, I no longer had any interest in looking left or right. I just wanted ... to ... get ... there. I no longer even cared where "there" was.

In the grip of white line fever I passed a number of signs advertising interesting looking attractions that I will now probably never see. Some of them I remembered long enough to Google them. Pompey's Pillar National Monument turned out to be a big rock with early graffiti on it. Apparently Captain Clark signed the pillar when he was in the area.

I would probably know why this was significant if I had stopped at the Lewis and Clark Trail Information Centre, but I didn't. Later I Googled them too and learned all sorts of interesting things. Check out their wikipedia entry for an overview of these brave explorers who travelled from sea to shining sea in the days before Cream Puffs and Puff Lites. They're kind of like an American Burke and Wills, except, of course, that Lewis and Clark actually made it back.

Although I charged straight past the Enchanted Highway on my first pass, it sounded so interesting that I did make time for a quick detour in the morning, but when I saw the first giant sculpture I started to get paranoid.

If North Dakota was going to make fun of me then I wasn't going to drive the other 28 miles of its Enchanted Highway. How did they know I'd killed Bambi with my Volvo anyway? Check out the pics on their website though. It's a novel strategy to revitalise a small farming town.

Even in my haste, I did enjoy the wallpaper as I went past. I wasn't even faintly tempted to try the alarmingly named "Bad Route Road." I also steadfastly ignored the turnoff for a town called "New Salem." I've read The Crucible. Anywhere named after Salem is not a place I want to take a chance on. I note that the original Salem appears to be successfully exploiting its troubled past in new and creative ways. I am very tempted to download the Witchcraft ringtone.

I passed dozens of exits for towns named "No Services" and reluctantly motored on past the exit to "Hebron: The Brick City." I've missed brick since I've been in this country. Timber houses are all very nice I suppose, but brick has such a solid, dependable feel about it. Here I need to touch buildings every once in a while to convince myself I'm not on a plywood film set.

I did pause at a "scenic view" pullout on the Interstate to admire the Painted Canyon. The late afternoon light lengthened the shadows of the badlands, highlighting the buttes. Butte is pronounced "beaut." I don't know that I'd choose to describe them as beaut, but they are fairly impressive all clumped together like this.

As I drove the night rushed towards me and I lost an hour to the curvature of the earth. By dusk I was getting tired and I passed the nastily named town of Killdeer at the perilous twilight Bambi hour. To keep myself alert I engaged in some strategic car Karaoke. In honour of Killdeer and the tragically departed soul of Bambi, I treated myself to a spirited rendition of "Born to Be Wild." As I sang my way through the first verse the lyrics seemed both very appropriate and utterly hilarious.

Get your motor runnin'

Head out on the highway

Lookin' for adventure

And whatever comes our way

Yeah Darlin' go make it happen

Take the world in a love embrace

Fire all of your guns at once

And explode into space

It actually gets worse.

Like a true nature's child

We were born, born to be wild

We can climb so high

I never wanna die

I giggled the rest of the way to the Bismarck K.O.A. Kampground. Poor Bambi. Rest in peace, gentle creature.