Day 3: East Turns to West

In which we reach South Dakota...

After a busy day of driving west, Mike and I allowed ourselves to sleep in on Sunday. We woke up at 8am (nine o'clock back home). 

The hotel did not have complimentary breakfast, but it did have a bathtub. 
I should really make a coffee table book titled Bonnie's North American Bathtub Tour.

Speaking of coffee... Mike and I were not about to skip that for a second day in a row. As soon as we checked out, we plugged Dunkin Donuts into our GPS and headed up the highway out of town to start our day on a more caffeinated note. 

This is how we experienced our first ever walk-up Dunkin Donuts. As the trip went on, we would learn that walk-up shops are very common out west. This is not something we generally have in New Jersey. 

We usually try to avoid chain restaurants in our travels, but I have to say that a sausage, egg, and cheese sandwich with hash browns really hit the spot that morning. Bonnie agrees. 

I was once again reminded how genuinely nice everyone out there is. Several people stopped to make small talk and said hi to Bonnie. Someone was wearing a South Dakota sweatshirt, and it started to feel like we were really doing it!

Back in the truck, we observed that people really love their RV campgrounds out there. Herds of campers clustered near the highways. While this type of camping is not my cup of tea, I appear to be in the minority. 

Our plan to visit Devil's Lake went out the window before we left the hotel. For starters, it sounds like it gets very crowded, and this was a holiday weekend. Additionally, visiting the lake would mean backtracking almost 45 minutes. I was more interested in using that time to explore as many new places as possible. 

Instead, I went back to the map to find an alternative "thing to do" in Wisconsin.

Mill Bluff State Park soon caught my eye. As I read up on the park and updated our navigation, the world sent us a preview. From the otherwise flat landscape around us, huge columns of stone appeared. 

These towering sandstone formations are a glimpse into Wisconsin's ancient past. This area was once covered by a massive glacial lake. The bluffs were islands dotting the water. When the lake receded, the islands remained. The bluffs consist of easily eroding sandstone topped with protective limestone caps. Periodically, the limestone caps will collapse, leaving just a mound behind. 

Mike and I called this "splooting". As we continued our journey, we would point out various geological formations and say things like, "That one splooted all the way!" or simply, "Sploot!"

Splooting

We found the parking lot to the Mill Bluff trail on the second try. A parking pass was required. There was a QR code to scan. Unfortunately, the website was down, so we decided to take our chances. We were the only ones there, and it was a relatively short walk.

The trail consisted of a quarter mile climb straight up the side of the bluff. An endless flight of stone stairs made up the majority of the walk. 

Bonnie was delighted to get to romp around off leash, and made easy work of the stairs, looking back frequently to see if her slow humans were going to make it any time today.

At the top of the 200' bluff, we took in the view, and posed for another photo with the assistance of a selfie platform. Genius!

The only downside of this stop was the mosquito population. I basically got eaten alive, but it was worth it.

This one is for our co-workers, who frequently say Mike and I seem like opposites.

I decided I could definitely see myself living in Wisconsin. The people are nice. There is lots to do. The parks are well-maintained and clearly a priority. Also, cheese. 

We're not actively looking to move, but Wisconsin is high on our list of hypothetical places.

Having stopped for this short hike, I felt like we got to visit Wisconsin. My wanderlust was temporarily satisfied. Next stop, Minnesota!

Just kidding. Wisconsin wasn't done with us yet. 

The next major landmark on our journey would be crossing the Mississippi. This felt significant, marking the point where East turns to West. Previously, I'd only seen the Mississippi from an airplane. While I recognized that the river wasn't at its widest this far north, it still felt important. 

It turns out that Grand Dad's Bluff in Wisconsin is supposed to have the best views of the Mississippi in the area. Away we went!

Along the way, we passed the world's bougiest McDonald's.

As we drove through the town of La Crosse, we could see the American flag marking the parking lot on top of the bluff. It promised to be an excellent vantage point.

The road wound up the side of the bluff and we soon arrived in the crowded parking area. We managed to find a spot along the edge of the driveway while I checked to make sure dogs were allowed. They were!

This was one of the more crowded places we saw during the course of our trip, but with the prevalent Midwest manners it wasn't a problem at all. In fact, several people offered to take pictures of us, which was convenient (no selfie platforms here!)

The landscape was absolutely stunning. Granddad Bluff towers about 700' above the surrounding area with panoramic views in every direction. The Mississippi isn't just a river here. It's an entire landscape of islands, backwaters, wetlands, and bluffs stretching to the horizon.

One thing that stood out was the contrast between the orderly grid of the town below and the wild floodplain beyond. It felt like two worlds had collided here. One built by man, the other shaped by the river. 

We spent a long time soaking it in.

Looking south.

And north.

It looks like a railroad town! This would have made for some cool tilt-shift photography.

Another photo of Bonnie looking absolutely delighted to be on this trip. Hahaha.

After our visit to Granddad Bluff, we drove through La Crosse. A sign at the vista explained that all the buildings in town had to be made of stone or brick following a devastating fire. The architecture was gorgeous, and there were so many houses I would have liked to explore. What a great little detour!

Just one example.

Of course, we couldn't pass through La Crosse without stopping to see the World's Largest Six Pack. Apparently this street is brewery central! The whole block smelled of hops. Yum!

Mike for scale.

At 12:34 pm, we crossed the Mississippi River and entered Minnesota (another new state!) I'll admit I was a bit underwhelmed by the river this far north. It was comparable to the Susquehanna back home. Still, it felt significant to make this crossing, officially leaving behind "our" side of the country.

This was the coolest welcome sign on the trip.

After the initial hills of the river valley, we found ourselves rolling through flat, endless farmland. There wasn't much to look at. It sounds like northern Minnesota is the place to visit. (Um, hello? Wolves?!)

Before long, wind turbines appeared all around, stretching as far as the eye could see. It turns out Minnesota ranks very high on the list of wind-powered states, and generates about a quarter of its electricity through wind turbines. 

While we've seen turbines here and there on our travels (specifically in West Virginia), we've never experienced them on this scale. We got used to it after a few hours, but they were somewhat shocking at first!

I had been warned that there wouldn't be much to see along this part of the route, but my farrier did suggest stopping at the Green Giant Statue in Blue Earth. Around 3pm, we did exactly that. By then it was 83℉ and hot so it was a quick stop. 

Not much to report, but I'm glad we popped in. 

"Seriously. Can I go back to the shelter?"

There were also little green giants throughout town.

I have the mind of a twelve year old boy.

Mike for scale.

By this point, we were fairly ravenous. Originally, I found a riverside restaurant with dockside seating, but when we arrived, we found the place absolutely packed. I didn't want to waste time on waiting to be seated, so we just kept driving.

Eventually, I found a place called Green Mill Restaurant. It's apparently a chain, but since we don't have them on the East Coast, it doesn't count. 

They had patio seating so we could get Bonnie out of the car. A few minutes after we sat down, a super sweet waitress came running outside and exclaimed, "I knew it! I was hoping you were sitting outside because there was a doggo!"

The entire staff of the restaurant proceeded to fawn over Bonnie. They brought her a complimentary bowl of ice water, which she quite enjoyed. She also got to learn about cheese curds (a staple on this trip). 

You can't go to the Land of Lakes and not get fish so I got the walleye sandwich. It was buttery, delicious, and melted in my mouth. Yum!

While we ate, an older couple also sat down on the patio. At first, I was dismayed when they chose the table right next to us, but then I remembered we were in the Midwest. It turns out they chose the table outside because they were dog lovers. 

They literally just wanted to chat with us and learn more about Bonnie. They also told us about their grand dogs and various rescues they've had over the years.

And the man shared about half of his lunch with Bonnie. She ate well that day. Adorable.

Her irresistible face. Apparently.

While we were eating, I started to look ahead for a hotel for that night. I had learned my lesson about waiting until the last minute in Wisconsin Dells. I was stunned to learn that there were almost no hotels between where we were and the Badlands. (The Badlands were our planned stop for the following day.) 

I guess it makes sense that such a remote area wouldn't have many accommodations, but it was a little unnerving to try to find a place to stay. In the end, I booked a Best Western because it was the only chain hotel I could find. 

Back on the highway, our phones alerted us to a severe thunderstorm warning. I have a terrible fear of tornadoes. Meanwhile, Mike wants to see one in person. With huge storm clouds clearly visible across the wide open plains, I started to feel mildly panicky.

From the outside looking in, my Google history in this moment was probably pretty funny.

• Do tornadoes happen in Minnesota? (Yes.)
  
• What does a tornado siren look like? (Just like the one you just passed.)
• What does a tornado siren sound like?
• What do you do if you're in a car with nowhere to go and you see a tornado? (Get out of the car and lie face down in a ditch. Apparently.)

While juggling panic and navigation, I spotted Blue Mounds State Park on the map. This would technically fulfill my criteria for seeing the state, but the weather was looking really iffy. As I hemmed and hawed, I noticed that the park is known for its bison herd and prickly pear cacti. 

They had me at cacti.

"Let's do it!" I told Mike at the last possible second. 

Quaint.

That's it. That's the blue mound on the horizon. Then again, in a landscape this flat, it might as well be the Rockies!

We did a very quick walk at this park. We did see the bison herd with wind turbines in the background, which pretty much summarized Minnesota. 

Then, poor Bonnie went from having a really good time to having a really bad time. I had asked her to sit for a photo. When she got up and came toward me, she learned about the prickly pears the hard way. First she stepped on one. Then she panicked and sat down on one. Then she shut down and lay on one. 

For a moment, we had a very sad, very lame dog, and I worried that she wasn't going to be able to hike for the rest of our trip.

We got her back on the main trail and rolled her over to pull all the spines out of her paws. She limped for a few steps after, but then went right back to being her usual bouncy self.

On a four-paw rating scale, Bonnie gives Blue Mounds a three-paw rating. 

"Minus one star for cacti."

Bonnie Yawns Across America.

Postcards from Minnesota.

In between cactus paws, there was a lot of joy.

She is so silly.

We made it back to the truck without getting wet and crossed into South Dakota at 7:04pm.

Just after we crossed the state line, the severe thunderstorms we'd been promised arrived. It was a wild and moderately terrifying experience. With no trees or hills to break up the weather, the storm hit us with great intensity. 

Mike was basically driving blind, but at least the road was straight. 

The speed limit was also 80 mph, which seemed insane. You really couldn't go much slower without getting run off the road. 

There were some white knuckles in the passenger seat that evening.

Then, just as the rain started to let up a bit and we could start to see again, something massive and terrifying appeared, horns first, over the horizon.

"What... the hell... is that....?" Mike gasped.

I recognized it immediately. We had found Porter Sculpture Park. The horns belonged to the famous bull statue.

"Do you want to stop?" Mike asked.

"Y-yes, but the rain..."
"Maybe it will stop."
"Let's try it."

And then the universe delivered again. Just as we crossed over the cattle guard into the sculpture park, the rain stopped, the clouds cleared, and a beautiful rainbow appeared over the highway. It felt like destiny.

The sculpture park ended up being hands down my favorite stop of the day. I could have spent hours there. If you are ever in the southeast corner of South Dakota, you must stop! 

The sculptor was on site when we stopped. He was a sheep farmer who used his father's blacksmithing tools to make some sculptures in his home town. When people started visiting the family farm and offering to pay to look at the art, he realized he could make a business out of it if he just moved to a more visible location. So he and a friend purchased this plot of land along the highway and it expanded from there.

The sculptor invited us to bring Bonnie with us on our walk through the grounds, and told us a little bit about some of the sculptures, including the one he calls "the stupid horse". 

This place spoke to my heart. Some of the sculptures were beautiful and whimsical. Others had a definite dark side. The poems offered a glimpse into the artist's mind, and more than one left me wanting to give him a big hug. Mike discouraged hugging strangers.

I can't even pick a favorite. They were all so amazing. 

This was one of my favorites.

So many poems!

Horses, of course!

Love this!

Me for scale!

Creepy.

An explanation of the art inside the bull.

Sooooo creepy.

Look. It's me riding Booger.

This one made me cry right there in the field.

Bonnie may not have appreciated the sculptures, but she did enjoy meeting a Rhodesian Ridgeback. It then turned out that the dog was from a breeder in New Jersey! For a moment, I wondered if he came from our friend Carla's program. He didn't but that would have been a funny coincidence.

After buying a t-shirt and hopping back in the truck, we had one last stop to make before calling it a night.

Every time I mentioned South Dakota to anyone, they all recommended the obvious places (Badlands, Custer, Rushmore...) but another place also kept appearing. It was the Corn Palace in Mitchell. Enough people brought it up that I added a quick detour on our way to the hotel.

For context, the Corn Palace is a local arena/facility that hosts things like concerts and sporting events. That's not what makes it special though. What makes it special is the decor.

Each year, a theme is assigned to the Corn Palace. Local artists then create designs to go with the themes. Then, using plywood, they essentially make a paint-by-corn grid for these designs. Using 12 naturally occurring shades of corn, plus the husks/leaves, they then secure about 325,000 ears of corn using about 1.5 million nails to the plywood. The project costs about $175k each year. 

(So this is what people do for fun out here...)

When we first pulled into the town of Mitchell, I thought it was a little bit sketchy and hoped we weren't wasting our time. As soon as the palace came into view, those concerns went right out the window. For starters, this place is much larger than I had expected! 

This year's theme was the 250th birthday of America. While I am not the world's most patriotic person, this made for some really cool and intricate designs. I was thoroughly impressed, and have to agree with all those who promised me it would be worth the detour.

We'd had just enough daylight to take in the Corn Palace, but darkness fell quickly as we drove through nowhere towards the Best Western. I noticed that gas had dropped to under $4 per gallon out here. 

We crossed the Missouri River in the dark. This was another surreal moment. Even though night had fallen, there must have been enough light left in the sky to reflect off the water. The river gleamed eerily below us as we approached, and it took my brain several minutes to figure out what I was looking at.

Soon after the river crossing, we realized we did not have enough gas to make it to the hotel. While we still had about half a tank, we also noticed that there didn't appear to be any more gas stations along our route. We ended up doing a U-turn across the grassy median to head back to the last open station. 

This proved to be a good stop that gave Mike his second wind (and allowed me to feed Bonnie a late dinner). 

The hills of the Missouri River valley in this part of South Dakota are something I wish we'd been able to see in the daylight. This iconic geography is supposed to be entirely unique to this region of the country. While we did not have the benefit of daylight, they still made quite the impression as they loomed around us beneath the moonlight. 

As it grew later, I noticed farmers were still out working their fields. At first, I assumed it was simply because there was so much land to cover. Soon, though, we realized the tractors almost seemed to be moving in sync.

That's when we learned about the driverless tractors that dominate this part of the country. These autonomous machines use AI, GPS, sensors, and cameras to do a lot of the work themselves. 

Watching rows and rows of tractor lights spanning across the vast flatlands as far as the eye could see made the hair on my arms stand up. With how flat it was out there, it felt like an endless sea of robots. The future is now... and I'm not sure I like it.

At 11pm (midnight back home) we arrived at the Best Western. 

At first, I worried we'd made a mistake staying here. The buildings were outdated and in need of some repair and the location was very remote. The town was also called Murdo (pop. 475), which could probably use some rebranding. I'll admit I was a bit nervous as I went into the motel office. 

Then I was greeted by a super sweet young man named Thaddeus who welcomed me with a genuine smile and impeccable manners. (Side note: Mike and I have a running joke about the name Thaddeus, so this felt like a sign that all would be well.)

Thad got us checked in and waived the pet fee, then recommended the local diner for breakfast the next day.

It took us a moment to find our room, but we soon parked and unlocked the door. 

As the door creaked open, we were hit with a blast of hot air that smelled like the 90's. Coincidentally, this appears to be the last time anything in the room was updated. They still have those old fuzzy blankets that used to inhabit hotel rooms before they were declared a fire hazard. Granted, they weren't so fuzzy any more.

Despite the initial impression, this motel ended up being just fine. There was an air conditioning unit in the far corner of the room, and once we got that cranking, the room aired out very well. Everything was very clean and the beds were comfortable. 

The tub met Bonnie's approval too.

After a long day of travel, I think Mike and I could have slept just about anywhere. After winding down for a few minutes and taking Bonnie for one last walk, we collapsed into our respective beds. I, for one, was out like a light.

The next day, we would finally reach the landscape we came all this way to see.