Travel on the Gravel

Woke up this morning, it was 12 below. And despite the way that first sentence scans, this is not a blues stanza. Quite the opposite. I believe I have acquired the rhythm of the country. This year in Fargo achieved the longest growing season (largest number of consecutive frost-free days) of record. We had a beautiful, protracted autumn, but somehow it just didn't feel right. Horizontal snow blew in yesterday evening, followed by quiet and clearing and free-falling temperatures. Fargo registered 6 below this morning, bit it was colder out here in the country. And today felt just great. I grinned every time I went outside, in fact I made up excuses to go outside. The air is better now. It's like grace. Hard water fishing by weekend, I'll bet. Lots of reading and writing. I've been thinking about seasons lately, about how the conventional four just don't apply well here. I'm pretty sure a new year began sometime during last night. I am filled with resolution.

A few weeks ago we had business in Ellendale and, with motels there filled by construction crews, we made a good choice as to a nearby place to stay. We booked a room at the Carroll House, in the little town of Fullerton. This old hotel is beautifully restored by a local group, the Fullerton Community Betterment Association. And besides that, just up the street is the Ranch House, which is a great destination steakhouse. Quiet, comfortable, prairie town hospitality at its best.


From Fullerton we drove over to Ellendale to do some survey work, attend the St. Helena's Fall Dinner, and also see a community theater production at the opera house. For the fall dinner follow the links for fall suppers at the Center for Heritage Renewal. Video of the Carroll House and the Ranch house is posted on YouTube at Plains Folk Video. Material about the production at the Ellendale Opera House is soon to be posted at the Center for Heritage Renewal. Our stay in Fullerton is the subject, too, of a forthcoming Plains Folk column.

Just back from a splendid concert at the Fargo Theater featuring Chuck Suchy, backed up Peter Ostrousko, Joe Savage, and Joel Sayles. It featured songs from the Prairie Public documentary, The Old Red Trail. Great songs, great musicianship. I tell you, someone needs to make this guy Savage an offer to keep him in North Dakota. It's amazing what pedal steel adds to music like this. The audience was large and appreciative. This was the place to be in Fargo tonight.

Old John set this up, on account of his avid interest in railroading, and I was happy to be included, on account of my interest in anything having to do with the patterns of life on the northern plains. And short line railroads are important threads in those patterns. So, yesterday morning, John and I were on board an engine of the Red River Valley & Western Railroad for a short run from Breckenridge to Colfax. I'll be doing some writing about this in Plains Folk, but for now, let me express thanks not only to John for setting this up but also to the people at the RRVW who hosted us so graciously: in the Breckenridge offices, Cynthia Olson and Dan Keogh, who shared their knowledge and experiences in short-line railroad management; Dan Zink, who kindly joined us for lunch to sketch in some of the larger managerial considerations of the operation; the train crew, comprising Jared Thiele, Alex Hunger, and Dan Erickson, who tolerated our fool questions; and electrician Jeff "Spark" Kriz, who readily got us rolling again when a cable had to be replaced on the way out of town. Also, I've posted a short video, "Riding the RRVW," at Plains Folk Video.

Last week we spent several days with custom harvesters from Saskatchewan who were working in North Dakota. I needed to gather some update information for a book chapter I was working on, which deals with the history of the international harvest exchange between the U.S. and Canada, and so I just started ringing up harvesters from the Association of Canadian Custom Harvesters and learned that several outfits were at work in central North Dakota. In the field near Pingree we visited with the Loren and Florence Brownridge crew; in camp at Sterling and in the field near McKenzie we saw the Jerry and Lynn Prevost crew; and in camp at Menoken and later in the field at Tuttle we talked with Al and Marilyn Kuntz. Everyone was wonderfully hospitable and tolerant of a lot of fool questions. I'll be doing some writing about our conversations in Plains Folk. In the meantime I've posted video of the Brownridge, Prevost, and Kuntz outfits at Plains Folk Video. Also photos below.

We're awash in garden produce, which is a burden but more a joy. Last night at midnight we finished canning 13 pints of pickled beets. Tonight, I think, it will be applesauce, made from the fruit of our Centennial crab. Over the weekend we tried ways of using up the berries and vegetables, including: sourdough juneberry pancakes, Ukrainian stir-fry (sausage, garlic, cabbage, perogies, and a few other garden things), borscht (we have lots of beets), minestrone (heavy on summer squash, with some kohlrabi, a few peppers, some corn), cucumber and tomato salads, and last night, ratatouille. Already I'm looking ahead to next year. I've ordered sets for garlic and shallots, also some asparagus roots, all of which I'll put in this fall. We've hauled in some railroad ties to build raised beds for asparagus, strawberries, and horseradish, hoping to lift them up out of the wet in the back of the garden. And last night I hauled home a load of sheep manure from the experiment station; that went into the compost heap, to be spread a year from now. Now, I'm thinking back on last week, when we were chasing Canadian custom harvesters across central North Dakota. Knowing that one of them, Al Kuntz, was of German-Russian ancestry, we stopped in at the Tuttle Community Store to pick up some Kuchen. Sure enough, Charlotte the baker was there, turning out a fresh batch. She is pictured here at right. For fresh video from the bakery, visit Plains Folk Video.

There are a lot of fish being taken in North Dakota this late summer; some are trophies, whereas others are less exalted. Last Saturday the 4th the Barnes County Wildlife Federation pulled off its 16th Annual Bullhead Derby at Kelly's Crossing of Lake Ashtabula. Records were set for number of participants (173, in 53 teams) and for total pounds taken (1822). The photo at right depicts the weigh-in. Most everyone was fishing with nightcrawlers and bobbers. That includes the derby champion, Gregory Dick, of Valley City, who fished all day with two poles from a dock about thirty feet from the weigh station. For video of the champ in action, as well as other scenes from the Bullhead Derby, visit Plains Folk Video, the new video annex for Plains Folk enterprises. Meanwhile, in the lower reaches of the Sheyenne, the channel cats are biting. I suspect the high water of early summer brought a lot of big ones up into the tributaries of the Red. The cat pictured below (30 inches, 13.5 pounds) was taken from (and returned to) the Sheyenne this afternoon.

Still on Highway 281 here, the Texas segment, and finding all sorts of wonders at roadside. A year or two ago we were passing through Mineral Wells and spent some time looking over the old Baker Hotel, built in 1929 and intended to serve health-seekers come to take the waters. Standing 14 stories tall, it's an amazing sight in a prairie town, and it's for sale! This time we made a stop at the Famous Mineral Water Company, which, although it no longer attracts health-seekers to stay on site, still distributes its Crazy Water through regional outlets. Down the road a little farther we came to Jacksboro, the town that serves as jumping-off point in the old ballad, "The Buffalo Skinners." Here we found a delightful and nondescript little drive-in called "Dairyland." Impressive chicken fried steak, Tex-Mex offerings, cobblers, and onion rings that were darned near perfect.

Again this year I have a few groundcherries in my garden, and I like them, but at the same time, I'm disappointed. I get my plants from Neil at Sheyenne Gardens. They grow well, but the groundcherries, like any others I see, grow only the size of marbles. On the other hand, I've heard tales from many old-timers of groundcherries growing much larger. I just re-read a note I got ten years ago from George Dike, an extension veteran retired in Michigan, who grew up in Walsh County, North Dakota. He writes, "Our farm neighbors in Walsh County 70 years ago raised ground cherries as big as golf balls. They tasted great right out of hand, in pies, or as preserves." George, however, expresses the same frustration as I do about the small varieties available today. So, are we missing something? Are these giant groundcherries of the past just figments of wishful memory? If they were real, are they now gone forever? Or, is there a garden somewhere with groundcherries in it that would satisfy the longing expressed by George and me?

Driving Highway 281 through central Texas we spotted a remarkable memorial in Windthorst. Alongside St. Mary's Catholic Church, founded by German colonists in the 1890s, stands a grotto containing a statue of the Blessed Virgin referred to by some as Our Lady of 281. The rationale behind the grotto, however, is indicated by the plaque affixed to it; the legend indicates that of fifty-nine men from the parish who served in the Second World War, every one returned home safely--ample cause for thanks and praise. The grotto itself is wonderfully camp, with faux-stalactites hanging from the stone ceiling. On one side of the red-brick church is a statue of St. Isidore, patron of farmers, and on the other side is a monumental rosary of rocks and relics laid out on the ground. Highway 281, I keep saying, the Great Plains highway, is loaded with neat stuff.