We completed our longest day today–a 760-mile through the last bit of Montana, through North Dakota, down past Minneapolis, and well into Wisconsin. Tonight we are in the self-proclaimed Black River Falls Oasis, home of several budget hotels, the Orange Moose Bar and Grill, and some gas stations. One of the lodgers has a gutted deer tied to the roof of his SUV. When we walked over to the gas station so that Henry could buy some nasty cookies or some such thing, I stood outside and took a look around. The attendant watched me through the window with a spyglass.

I’m not sure what he thought he would see me do. Abuse the Dumping Station, perhaps? Violate a object marked “Drinking Water” that was actually a large white pipe coming out of the ground, looping around, and ending in a garden hose patched with duct tape?

Unfortunately we didn’t get to see much of Minnesota because we blew through it in the dark. What we did see–the town of Moorhead, which is directly across the border from Fargo–seemed very harsh, blue, and industrial. Smoke from factory smokestacks was unusually thick-looking; I think the cold may have been condensing the exhaust very quickly, causing a denser smoke.

North Dakota was the highlight of the drive. The western part is very interesting steppe country, with an odd mix of fields, gentle rises, and unusual mounds and rock formations. Gradually this gave way to flatter plains, and not too long after we passed a huge metal sculpture in the shape of an eye, we found the only thing, so far, that we’ve picked up to bring back with us: tumbleweeds.

I had never seen a tumbleweed before save for in cartoons and Married With Children. When the first one–a small, almost perfectly spherical specimen–rolled across the highway in front of us, I couldn’t help but laugh. I thought it was going to be the only one. Little did I know that North Dakota is the perfect place for these interesting plants. They grow along the highway, break off, tumble to the fence indicating a pasture or field border, and stopped. I imagine the biggest ones mount the fence and get a little farther from home.

A tumbleweed is in the thistle family. To spread, the stalk breaks off from a its extensive root system and rolls along, shaking off seeds that will eventually become new tumbleweeds. It struck me as a remarkable strategy. The tumbleweed itself is very light and very dry, with tremendous surface area. The ones we saw were about 3-4 feet across. Trying to hold one in the North Dakota wind isn’t easy. We loaded 4 into the truck. 2 to keep as souveniers, and two big ones–two nice, hefty tumblebeasts–to release in Boston. They tend to grow in dry and slightly acidic soil, but we’re having fun imagining that we’re going to be responsible for a massive tumbleweed infestation along I-95 back home.

Tomorrow we’re shooting for the Ohio/Pennsylvania border, just beyond Ashtabula.