Fort Mandan – Lewis and Clark Legacy

IMAG0048 (640x480)At the turn of the 19th century, the good ol’ USA was still a young nation—and suddenly found itself doubled in size with the purchase of the Louisiana Territory from France. President Thomas Jefferson decided it would be in everybody’s best interest to have a look at this huge stretch of land which, up to that point, was largely a blank page to the European newcomers.

Thus began the Lewis and Clark expedition. They set out from St. Louis in 1804, battling the Missouri upriver in their wooden keel boat, hopeful that the waterway would provide an unbroken highway to the Pacific. When winter closed in, the explorers erected a fort on the banks of the river in what is now North Dakota. They named their log home Fort Mandan, after the hospitable native people who had villages nearby.

The expedition left Fort Mandan that spring and spent their next winter at their hard-earned destination, the Pacific Ocean. They made the return journey in a single season, and on the way home discovered that their first winter quarters, Fort Mandan, had been mysteriously burned. Today, a replica stands in the vicinity of the old site and is open to tourists year-round.

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When Molly and I visited last weekend, the Lewis and Clark Fort Mandan Foundation was celebrating the grand opening of its newly expanded interpretive center, including a brand new conference facility. (Can anyone say, “History symposium”? Oooo …)

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For such a large interpretive center, the fort it interprets is … surprisingly small. Inside the triangular palisade of cottonwood logs, a dozen or so rooms line the wall—of which some are for storage. Gary, the tour guide, informed me that 44 men from the Corps of Discovery spent the winter here. I’m thinking that was close quarters.

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Amongst the many events going on that weekend was a demonstration on how to achieve fire through flint and other early means. “Some of the nicest flint in the world,” Gary said, “comes from right here in North Dakota—Knife River flint.” Knife River flint was a highly valued trade item amongst the native peoples. Cool as this flint was, I was impressed to learn that petrified wood can also strike sparks. (I’m sure that knowledge will save my life someday.) Maybe once I get good at building fire with a grill lighter I’ll move on to the next challenge.

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Between the fort, two interpretive centers, nature trails, and demonstrations, my favorite part of the experience was actually this meager bit of metal:

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It’s a hasp off the journal of Merriweather Lewis. In the late 1800s, a careless 19th-century historian broke it off as a souvenir for a friend.

The two captains of the expedition were charged by President Jefferson to keep a detailed record of their explorations—from the landscape, to the plants and animals, to the native peoples and their customs. This hasp was part of a valuable document—in many ways, the journals were the essence of the expedition. They would have been diligently guarded from the hundreds of mishaps that could have destroyed them.

But more than a technical record, a journal becomes a human’s heart on paper. Yes, the Lewis and Clark journals contain long figures of latitude and longitude, supply lists and data. But they were also a place for the expedition members to express themselves on this incredible journey. Upon first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean, William Clark penned in his journal, “Ocean in view! O! The joy!”

What a bit of history. This hasp traveled a continent at Merriweather Lewis’s side, survived the voyage, and eventually arrived in the hands of President Jefferson. And now it has returned to North Dakota, where it spent that first long, memorable winter in a tiny log fort in the middle of America.

Pawnotes from Molly

IMAG0001 (640x469)Let’s not forget the dog! THE most famous member of the expedition was Seaman, Captain Lewis’s Newfoundland. The humans credit Sakakawea with getting Lewis and Clark to the Pacific and back, but we dogs know they would have been lost without Seaman.

This canine is one of my personal heroes. Can you imagine, sniffing two thousand miles of virgin wilderness teeming with deer and bunnies, boldly peeing where no dog has peed before??? I get giddy just thinking about it.

Granted, I was also deeply impressed with the fort—particularly the buffalo skin blankets on the beds. I buried my muzzle in all that fur and filled my nose with the aroma. Animal skins are to a dog what coffee in the morning is to a human.

But my girl kept saying I was as much of an attraction as the fort itself. We kinda lost count how many people—kids and adults alike—asked to meet me. One little girl ran her hands down my coat and said, “She feels like the bear fur.” I consider that a compliment.

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Number 1 Biggest Thing to Remember when Traveling with Your Dog

IMAG0040 (640x480)How appropriate: An article on Five Tips for Traveling With Your Dog. I recommend it! Since it’s an airline blog, it also discusses how to make your dog comfortable while hurtling through the sky at impossible speeds.

Wonder what my five pet travel tips would be? I sat down to think about it and got as far as one—the most important one: Give your dog time to sniff his new surroundings.

On our quest for interesting places and activities, Molly and I have been to a few places now, each armed with our own unique equipment to help us remember our visit. I have a small, cheap, not-for-dummies camera. She has a small, irreplaceable, high-tech, user-friendly nose.

We are frequently at odds while trying to use our devises. I could start a collection featuring blurry photos that resulted from Molly tugging on the leash while she was trying to use her device. At the same time, I’m sure she could write a list of things she never got to olfactoraly record, because I was trying to snap my photo. It doesn’t comfort her any that the picture was for the blog.

And neither can I tell her that her need to acquire an olfactory orientation to a new place is unimportant. A dog’s primary sense is her sense of smell. That’s just a fact pet parents traveling with their dogs have to deal with. A dog isn’t just satisfying her curiosity, either. We humans glance a place over to see if it feels safe. A dog smells a place over.

Thus I’ve gotten used to the idea of seeing a site twice. First, I walk around with Molly and let her satisfy her nosy curiosity. It doubles as a great opportunity to show her what places are off-limits to the paws, like a door leading to a restaurant or café. In a small space, like a building she was invited to see, we may circle it twice so she can really get comfortable in her new surroundings.

Only after her need is satisfied do I whip out the camera and the notebook.

Under ideal conditions, that is. If I’m pressed for time, I still try to give her a chance to sniff the smells. I may ask her to sit and stay while I snap my photo, then give her a minute to follow the tantilizing aroma that was taunting her while she sat there.

Humans go places to see the sights. But Molly has made it clear to me that she goes places to sniff the smells. If we’re going to enjoy our travels together at all, we should both have the chance to record our memories in our own unique ways.

Jamestown, North Dakota: The Buffalo City

IMAG0027 (640x457)Molly and I visited this interesting attraction purely by accident. We took a wrong turn and decided not to go back.

North Dakota has a thing with giant statues of wildlife. On this same road trip, I discovered that the little town of Steele boasts “The World’s Largest Sandhill Crane.” And New Salem’s hilltop Holstein cow, Salem Sue, practically put North Dakota on the map. But Jamestown puts everything on a whole new scale with Dakota Thunder, the world’ largest buffalo. Visible from the Interstate, he’s the reason Jamestown is known as the Buffalo City.

Even at 75 miles per hour, Dakota Thunder is hard to miss. But look a little closer, in the valleys and hills below the statue. If you’re lucky, you’ll catch a glimpse of Jamestown’s free-roaming bison herd, including three very rare and special white buffalo, White Cloud, Dakota Miracle, and Dakota Legend. The bison must have been over the hills and far away the day Molly and I visited.

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The road to the bison statue takes you back in time to the old west. Jamestown’s Frontier Village is a huge collection of mostly historic buildings brought in from around the region and preserved by the Frontier Village Association. Some of the buildings were built on site, but you’d be challenged to pick them out as modern additions.

I was particularly interested in the Louis L’Amour writer’s shack. A native of Jamestown, North Dakota, L’Amour was one of the most famous western authors of all time. A display case inside contained a copy of each of his novels.

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Molly was invited inside and made herself at home. She understands us writer types.

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While some of the buildings were museums, some housed interesting gift shops.

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Remarkably, there is no admission fee to see the village. You will, however, find donation canisters inside some of the buildings. Like all of North Dakota, the economy must be booming here, too, because even this little town is three times bigger than last time I remember.

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Pawnotes from Molly

IMAG0028 (640x463)There were SO MANY interesting smells! Particularly near the bison range. I have not smelled bison before. It was very earthy and rich. I would have liked to determine if white buffalo chips smelled different from brown buffalo chips, but there was a fence in the way.

I was not fond of the bison statue. My girl tried to take a picture of me standing beneath the bison, but I made the mistake of looking it in the eye. It didn’t smell alive, but I don’t trust anything that big that has eyes and lowers over me.

My girl said that was okay, and let me sit several yards in front of the bison and lined up her shot to make it look like I was posing beneath the bison. She’s so understanding.

Not that I’m a coward. I wouldn’t have minded sniffing his butt.

 

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Camping vs. Campering

IMAG0019 (640x480)Phase One of the great Camper Caper is complete: deep cleaning. It’s a joy to be able to walk into my camper and inhale deeply without bursting into fits of coughing.

But we aren’t out of the woods yet—or more specifically, out in the woods. The water systems are still full of antifreeze. I dare not start the furnace for fear of great clouds of dust blowing all over my freshly cleaned camper. And I don’t even know if I have any propane in the tank to light the stove.

So what the heck. I took it camping anyway.

My friend Mareike (say that mar-I-ka) from Germany was over, and she’d never stayed in an RV before. (Heck, neither had I.)

On the first night of our visit, we camped in the ol’ tent—and were nearly wiped off the face of the earth by a thunder storm. Despite a fresh coat of seam sealant, we shipped enough water to soak my dog and the foot of my sleeping bag. (Like a good dog parent, I shared the remaining dry portion with my soggy pooch.)

More storms were predicted for our second night … so all in all, it was clearly the perfect opportunity to try out the camper. With none of the systems functional, we treated it like a glorified tent … trips to the vault toilet and the whole bit.

For the record, I object to the use of the term “camping” applied to RVs. “Camping” implies a certain intimacy with nature, a lack of comforts and conveniences, and the ability to carry on your back everything you need to sustain life.

RVs establish distance between the inidividual and nature. You have weather-proof walls. You have running water. You have a deep, cushy bed. You have a refridgerator, an air conditioner, and a furnace. It’s nothing less than a small house with a great view.

Hence I’ve coined a new term: “Campering.”

But I’m not sure I was “campering” on this trip. The rain hit in the dead of the night, and it cleverly blew in through my broken vent cover, elbowed its way past the barricade I’d made of plastic sacks, dripped down from on high, and soaked my sleeping bag—worse than my night in the tent.

Intimacy with nature = camping. Therefore, I was camping … not “campering.” Even though I was in a camper. Yeah, I’m confused, too.

Whatever I was doing, my first time with the camper was lots of fun—made more enjoyable by sharing it with a friend … who doesn’t mind getting up at three in the morning to help me waterproof a broken vent cover.

Hot chocolate over an open fire

Hot chocolate over an open fire

Breakfast for Two

Breakfast for Two

View as seen from the roof of the camper—while working some more on the broken vent cover

View as seen from the roof of the camper—while working some more on the broken vent cover

Pawnote from Molly

IMAG0015 (640x480)I didn’t mind the broken vent cover at all. It meant my girl ended up sleeping on the floor with me! The bed over the cab looks cozy and all, but I’ve tried, and there’s no way to get up there, no matter how hard I wag my tail and give my girl that pleading look.

So when my girl parked a bucket under the leaking vent and rolled out her sleeping bag next to me, I laid my paw and my head on her arm to let her know I liked this arrangement so much better. I hope she decides to use the bed over the cab for storage.

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