Week 38: Heat Domes, Prairie Dogs & Theodore Roosevelt Land

July 18 – July 24 | Zortman, MT (90s) → Malta, MT (90s) → Medora, ND (90s–105°F)

Where We Stayed

• Antelope Creek Campground — Zortman, MT (Friday)

• Traefton Park — Malta, MT (Saturday)

• Rough Rider State Park — Medora, ND (Sunday)

• Red Trail RV Park — Medora, ND (Monday–Friday)

The Hi-Line

During our time in Montana, we spent several days following Route 2 also known as the the Hi-Line. This is the northernmost transcontinental highway in the United States, running parallel to the BNSF railroad tracks along the Canadian border. Everything out here is named after it with obvious pride: Wolf Point calls itself the "Gateway to Wild Adventure on the Hi-Line," Havre the "Heart of the Hi-Line," Shelby "a vibrant town on the Montana Hi-Line." We drove it from Browning all the way to the North Dakota border; we drove 444 miles over three days. Long, straight, flat, and beautiful in its own hypnotic way. There were stretches where the scenery didn't change for an hour, and we just stared at it, glassy-eyed, in a kind of moving meditation. I’m sure we'll be seeing more of that as we enter the Midwest.

One of our working stops along the way was Centennial Park in Harlem, M. A small town with good signal, beautiful shade trees, and a nice breeze. Lucky dozed at my feet while I worked on the blog and the Going-to-the-Sun video. I sat watching trucks, tractor-trailers, and a steady stream of RVs headed to Glacier roll by. I hope they have as amazing a time as we did, and that they leave with the same respect for the Blackfeet Nation's land and culture that we're carrying with us.

American Prairie & the Prairie Dogs

Our campsite at Antelope Creek is part of the American Prairie reserve. They are one of the most ambitious conservation projects in the United States, working to create one of the largest nature reserves on the continent. The mission centers on bison restoration. Bison once numbered in the millions on the Great Plains and were nearly wiped out in the late 1800s. Today, though hundreds of thousands exist in North America, fewer than 10% are managed for conservation. Most live in small, fenced commercial herds. These are conditions that threaten their genetic health and prevent the wide-ranging behaviors that allowed them to shape the prairie ecosystem. American Prairie is working to change that, and the land here is some of the most important remaining grassland habitat in the northern Great Plains. Temperate grasslands are among the least protected biomes on Earth. This place matters, and we were proud to experience it. 

Also at the campsite: prairie dogs. So many prairie dogs. They were popping up right outside our camp chairs, chattering, disappearing, reappearing, completely unbothered by us. I took an embarrassing number of photos and videos. One was cuter than the next. Lucky was curious; I got a video of her staring at one from a polite distance that made me laugh over and over when I watched it later. Don ran his Montana 5K on the interpretive trail, looping it twice. I walked it after he returned, already warm at 9 am, and learned a great deal from the interpretive panels about the prairie ecosystem. The sunset that evening, captured with our drone, was stunning.

We left around noon to drive to the Wasay Wakpa Wachi Pow-wow in Lodge Pole, within the Fort Belknap Indian Reservation. The drive through the reservation was scenic; we spotted bison and several herds of horses grazing in wide open fields. When we arrived, we were quickly and kindly informed that dogs are not welcome at Pow-wows. This is something I deeply regret not knowing in advance. Different nations have varying teachings, but it is widely understood that pets should not be present at ceremony. The Anishinaabeg teaching holds that the Creator separated the paths of man and wolf for a reason, and that until those paths converge again, dogs should be left at home during ceremony. I walked around briefly, made sure to leave some money at the event, and we moved on. It was far too hot to leave Lucky in the bus. We headed toward North Dakota a day early, which gave us a pleasant overnight at Traefton Park in Malta, a local park that allows short-term camping for $5 a night and had the most magnificent shady tree we've sat under in weeks.

The Heat Dome & The Search for Air Conditioner

A massive, stagnant high-pressure system (a heat dome) was hovering over the central United States. Triple-digit temperatures, heat index values approaching 115°F, stretching from the Plains all the way to the Mississippi Delta. And we were driving right into it.

I had been putting off buying an air conditioner for months. The cost, the size, the question of where on earth it would go in 80 square feet. But this was no longer a comfort issue. This was a health issue, for us and especially for Lucky. We stopped at three hardware stores on the way to North Dakota. While waiting for the Glasgow, MT store to open, we washed the bus. This is only the second time we've done that in nine months on the road, the first being back in New Mexico in February. The staff at Glasgow hardware suggested we try Williston, ND, a bigger city with better stock. An hour out of our way, but it was too hot to do anything else anyway. We found a portable AC unit at Menard's. With wheels. A portable air conditioner with wheels. In a moving bus. I already know it will be sliding around every single day, but we won't die of heat exhaustion, so we'll take the win. Setting it up that first night was its own adventure. The fridge decided to stop working the moment we arrived at the campsite; tired, hot, and thoroughly done with the day. We ended up with cables crisscrossing the entire bus: fridge plugged into the Bluetti battery, Bluetti plugged into the inverter, AC unit also connected to the inverter, CPAP machine on the Bluetti. The exhaust pipe threaded through the little bus window. The drain pipe dripping into one of our pots. A royal mess. We had vodka cocktails for dinner because I was absolutely not cooking after that day.

Oh, and I had booked our campsite for the wrong night. In nine months on the road, that's the first time I've made that mistake. The ranger found us a spot. I'll take it.

Medora & Theodore Roosevelt National Park

Medora is a small town that exists entirely for Theodore Roosevelt National Park and the recently opened Presidential Library. No gas station. No grocery store. About five restaurants, two ice cream shops, a candy shop, a post office the size of a closet, and a bank. International students on J1 visas staff most of the businesses during the season. The Theodore Roosevelt Medora Foundation hires hundreds of them. It's a town that fully commits to its Old West character, and it does it well, even if I could never live there.

Surviving the heat in Medora was the real challenge. Our last day hit 105°F. We live in a tin box that absorbs and retains heat with remarkable efficiency. The AC kept us from actual danger but couldn't fully fight the bus absorbing heat all day in full sun. All three of us sat on the bed, not touching each other, with the AC pointed directly at us and being grateful for it. If you know how loud Don gets talking on Zoom, you know I needed my noise-canceling headphones to sit this close to him.

The Lost Wallet

One morning I rode my bike around Medora (which took about five minutes; the town is that small) then followed a trail about three miles out before returning to look for a bike rack. There wasn't one in sight, which I found genuinely disappointing. When I got back to the campsite, I realized my wallet was missing. Don and I retraced the route that evening. I called the local police. I went through the mental inventory: American Express card, driver's license, some cash, and our America the Beautiful pass, which expires at the end of the month. The license was the worst loss. The next morning I went to the post office (the first place I'd stopped), and there it was. I had also left my bike helmet there, which I hadn't even noticed was gone. Ridiculous, and also a huge relief.

The Roosevelt Presidential Library

One morning we headed to the newly opened Theodore Roosevelt Presidential Library. This is a stunning building whose earthen roof rises from the butte, echoing the surrounding Badlands. You can walk on the roof, and the views from up there are extraordinary. Lucky and I did the almost two-mile walk on the boardwalk trail, and I snapped countless wildflower photos along the way. The building is so new that construction crews were still finishing minor details. I noticed a lack of interpretive panels; hopefully those are coming, because the location and the architecture absolutely earn a deeper educational layer.

The Theodore Roosevelt Park

We visited the park one evening when the heat was slightly more bearable, and the crowds were thin. The Wind Canyon Overlook was the highlight. Another visitor leaving as we arrived told us: "This is the best stop, the bison are everywhere and they're loud." Loud? I hadn't expected that. But yes, they were grunting, deep and resonant. Don said it sounded like farts. I said it sounded like snoring. Either way, it was something we hadn't experienced before. Bison were moving along the Little Missouri River, calves running around, males eyeing each other in what might have been the beginning of a rut-season standoff. We would have stayed longer if Lucky weren't back in the bus.

We also stopped at the Boicourt Overlook, where Theodore Roosevelt once described the Little Missouri Badlands as "a land of vast, silent spaces." Standing there with few other people around, looking out over those long, enormous views, you understand what he meant. We spotted feral horses in the distance; no roads near them, no fences visible, just horses on their own land. We passed several prairie dog villages too, and even after spending a night camped right next to them, they are still impossibly cute. We also, unfortunately, saw a couple that hadn't made it across the road. 

On our last morning, we stopped at the Painted Canyon Visitor Center on the way out. This is not a park entrance, just a stunning overlook of the South Unit with a quick visit and some final Badlands views. We met a couple traveling from Rhode Island to Oregon, their spirit of the road and the willingness to let fate take them where it will, and the best part, they also have a Sloth Mascot! Even our mascots make friends on the road. Then we pointed south toward South Dakota.

Next up: South Dakota. Badlands National Park, Wind Cave, Custer State Park, and Crazy Horse.