We’d been on a Lewis & Clark kick ever since we stood in their footsteps atop Spirit Mound in South Dakota where 10,000 buffalo once roamed. Now at the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center in Washburn, North Dakota it was the 200 year anniversary of their journey. President Thomas Jefferson had send them to find a water route to the Pacific, determine trading possibilities, and record scientific observations along the way.

In October of 2006, we descended on Fort Mandan, the primitive compound where the group had wintered two hundred two years earlier. The wide Missouri River sparkled in the brisk fall sunlight, its sandbars posing challenge to any seaward traveler. Fort quarters were tight, amenities few. Donning ski jackets, we understood why, in October, they stopped to construct a shelter. If this isn’t winter, it should be.

The modern Visitor Center sported many hands-on exhibits such as the blacksmith shop with bellows, the carved out cottonwood-turned-canoe. After a grueling 5 hour car ride (Lewis didn’t have preteens in his group!) Son and Daughter were glad to run along the deserted riverbank. Daughter discovered striped turkey feathers at her feet, Son marveled at the 1,400 pound carved statue of Seaman, Lewis’ faithful Newfoundland.

Upstream at the Knife River Indian Villages, a reconstructed earthlodge, 40 feet in diameter, sits along the bumpy plains abutting the narrow Knife River. Archeologists have found artifacts here dating back 11,000 years. It is here that Sacagawea lived prior to joining the Lewis & Clark expedition. Artifacts in the earthlodge and visitor center included hand painted buffalo skins, circular one-person boats, and a below ground pit used to store corn, squash and beans over the winter. Patches of snow on these wide plains prompted Son and Daughter to build a snowman, as ominous clouds overhead turned gray across the horizon.

Bittersweet, these excursions - amazing how this small group persevered over such wild, uncharted terrain. Exciting to witness their discovery of animals never before imagined.

Heartbreaking to see the naivete in their promises of good faith, extended to those encountered. The wonders of their discoveries, brought back in journal and artifact, served to accelerate the pace at which adventurous pioneers, unknowingly bringing disease, overtook the land, ending the reign of the native people. Change, though inevitable, was harshly and unfairly set forth. Lewis would commit suicide a few years later. Here at these remote sites we can feel what once was and witness the end of an era.

A group of wild turkeys bobbed along a back road, blending into the golden scrub. A few miles further west found us battling wind chill and more turkeys amidst a snowstorm in the Badlands. North Dakota is not for wimps.

Our hotel had a room for hunters to gut their kill. Being suburban mall dwellers this was a bit of an eye opener. I guess if you want rugged you get the whole package.

My favorite, by far, was Theodore Roosevelt National Park. Out in the middle of nowhere, off season, we saw only a handful of other cars the whole day we were there. Split into two sections, the South Unit, just south of the Interstate held a tiny two room cabin Roosevelt called home. I wonder, did Teddy leave his slippers and "T.R." emblazoned trunk behind out of absentmindedness or did he foresee the future exhibit?

Many legends persist in these parts. "I never would have been President if it had not been for my experiences in North Dakota", Roosevelt once remarked. Though an avid hunter, he came to understand the shortsightedness in the piles of massacred buffalo horns found here during that time. Teddy Roosevelt is featured on Mount Rushmore for his part in creating the National Park System. I can see where the Southern and Northern Unit would have inspired such desire for preservation.

Once beyond the western outpost of Medora, a wild coyote crossed in front of us, alone on a windy two-lane path.

Bison sauntered across our path, stopping to munch on the scrub. Who was going to argue with these hairy beasts?.

A jackrabbit leaped across the endless expanse.

Prairie dogs popped up out of burrows and scurried back and forth.

Looping back to deserted Medora, I saw movement to my left. Slowly we approached in our vehicle. The true spirit of the West presented itself: six wild horses, nibbling on the snow covered grass, glanced up at us, but did not bolt. Graceful, self-assured, proud. Not unlike Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. I was awed seeing a life I would never live.

Despite the frigid temps we hiked to Ox Bow Bend Overlook where the Little Missouri flowed below us. Retreating toward our car, we spotted the silhouette of a lone bison, perched on a hill directly above us. "Kids, no more running ahead". It was clear who truly rules the land out here. It isn’t the humans.

Warming up and catching our breath, we drove 15 miles to the Northern Unit. I’ve never been to the moon. But I’ve been to the North Unit. Bumpy molten clay forms the land. Cannonball Concretions dominate the landscape. These giant, spherical boulders dangle from the cliffs, the largest of them laying amongst small cacti in the field below. White petrified rock, the size of our t.v. back home, complete the ancient picture. Who needs the moon?

Sunset approached as we headed out. Three white tailed deer lingered roadside to watch us pause to watch them. Farther up the hill, three more deer walked out of sight, the buck’s antlers silhouetted by the pinks and purples of the endless sky. To the wild creatures of Theodore Roosevelt National Park, as Bob Dylan once sang, "I’d have you anytime."

Heading east the following day, Bismark’s Visitor Center covered North Dakota’s history from dinosaur skeletons through the settling of the west. Notables were a homesteader’s shack, and the badge of the Indian police chief who killed Sitting Bull. At Fort Abraham Lincoln State Park we posed for a photo on the front steps of Custer’s home, as he and his officers did before leaving for Little Bighorn. Couldn’t help but wonder what George would’ve thought of the haunted house Halloween party being staged inside. The bullet-holed hat and saddle bag from Custer Battlefield in the visitor center were more apropos. Last stop: the adjoining On-a-Slant Indian Village which provided another glimpse of a vanished way of life.

North Dakota: barren: yes; you could disappear out here and never see another human being. Cold: no doubt. Empty: hardly; nature and history have left their imprint all around these parts. The true west starts right about here. If you slow down, you might catch the spirit of the legends who walked here before us.