This is the second post about my Midwestern road trip; the first one is here. There are plenty of pictures and all are clickable if you want to see the bigger version.
the road trip
As I mentioned in the previous post, flying into Chicago turned out to be the best option. We took the first westbound flight of the day from London Heathrow, operated by American Airlines, and it was probably less than a third full. Flying on a Dreamliner really makes a difference. On long-haul flights, even those departing mid-day, the cabin crew often dims the lights, makes everyone to shut all the blinds, and turns up the temperature to encourage passengers to sleep (and perhaps to avoid being bothered). I’m not a fan of that at all. Thankfully, this plane has dimmable windows, tinted blue, but still letting you see outside. Sure, the Atlantic can be monotonous, but as soon as we reached Canadian airspace, I was glued to the window, watching the untouched landforms of Newfoundland and Labrador. It never stops fascinating me.
I don’t think I’ll ever be a big fan of O’Hare airport, the lines were enormous, and everything moved at a snail’s pace. Signs of the upcoming Halloween – our main excuse for visiting the U.S., after all, were everywhere, but something else was far more unsettling than plastic spiders. Scattered throughout the airport were signs for emergency shelters in case of severe weather. This part of the country lies within the Tornado Alley. While actually witnessing a tornado as a visitor is thankfully rare, severe thunderstorms, hail, and strong winds are quite common. The northern states are also vulnerable to blizzards, with snow often arriving earlier than expected. During our stay in Medora, North Dakota, we saw snow patches lingering at the end of October, even though the days were warm enough for t-shirts. According to the forecast, snowstorms were due just after we left. I think we got very lucky. In general, the end of October may not be the most reliable time to visit.
After clearing immigration, we headed straight to the rental car centre. O’Hare is one of the biggest airports in the world, and nothing is close by, everything takes time. Since we already had our destination set for the day and an eight-hour drive ahead of us, we picked up the car and hit the road. A proper American road trip calls for a proper American vehicle, and we got a Lincoln MKZ, a very comfortable mid-size sedan packed with electronics that honestly intimidated me at first. But in the end, it turned out to be the perfect choice and made the whole journey smooth and enjoyable.
Wisconsin
This part of northern Illinois is densely populated and, to be honest, a bit dull. The Wisconsin state line isn’t far from Chicago, so I focused on the drive, eager to reach more interesting ground. It wasn’t long before we were greeted by one of the two best-looking state welcome signs, at least in my opinion. We chose this route not only because Wisconsin was on the way to Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota, but also because it’s home to a town called Lublin. That alone made it a must-see destination for me.
You see, I was born in Lublin, Poland, obviously, a city with hundreds of years of history. And growing up in a communist country, the only way to travel was through maps. At some point, I got my hands on a road map of the American Midwest, and as I traced each road carefully, I discovered something that amazed me: there was another Lublin, this one in Wisconsin. I was so intrigued that I even wrote a letter, hoping to learn more about the place. Sadly, I never received a reply, maybe because of my English at the time, or maybe because I simply addressed it to “Lublin Town Hall, Wisconsin, USA”. Who knows? But ever since then, visiting this small town had been on my bucket list. So when I realised it was just a short detour from our route to North Dakota, I didn’t hesitate. I knew I had to see it.
It’s a tiny settlement, home to just over 100 people. Apparently, the land once belonged to a Polish migrant from my hometown, who sold it to Eastern European pioneers in 1915. It’s moments like this that remind you how young the United States really is. That year isn’t some distant, abstract date, it’s the era my grandparents used to tell stories about their teenage years. Our visit to Lublin was brief; it was already late evening, and everything was closed. We continued heading west in search of a place to sleep, the next day was meant to be the toughest, with the longest distance to cover.
Minnesota
The border between Wisconsin and Minnesota runs down the middle of the St. Croix River, a tributary of the Mississippi. The two rivers meet just southeast of the Twin Cities (the Minneapolis–St. Paul metropolitan area), forming a lake that, to be honest, looks far more impressive than the “Mighty Mississippi” itself. In fact, we actually missed the Mississippi the first time we crossed it – it was that underwhelming. Later on, we stopped by the roadside so I could get a proper look at one of the longest rivers in the world. As for welcome signs, Minnesota’s was, in my opinion, the second of the best two I mentioned earlier. At least it looked like someone had put in some genuine effort.
For a tourist, these two states, Wisconsin and Minnesota, feel quite similar: vast farms stretch along the roads, mostly with different crops, and occasionally broken up by meadows. Honestly, if it weren’t for the geotags on my photos, I’d have a hard time saying which picture was taken where. Their economies rely heavily on agriculture, and they’re not particularly urbanised, which is why a special postal service exists here: Rural Free Delivery. Introduced in 1896, it was created to bring postal services to non-urban areas of the U.S. Before that, residents had to collect their mail in person, a task that, for many, simply wasn’t practical. Imagine being a farmer whose work depends on the weather: would you spend hours driving to town just to check if there’s mail waiting (no phones yet), or stay and make sure your crops, and your family, are taken care of? Early farmers’ organisations thought the same way. After lobbying for years, they finally succeeded in extending the postal service, 33 years after it had already begun in U.S. cities, to every American homestead.
Driving through the Midwest, no matter how comfortable the ride, takes time. As I mentioned earlier, this was the day I was meant to cover the longest distance: over 1,100 kilometres (nearly 700 miles). After a few hours on the road, I glanced at the navigation and saw something that would be nearly impossible in Europe. I still had over seven hours of driving ahead on the same road. Then, just one right turn and, after another three kilometres, I’d reach my destination. That’s it. One road, all day. The sheer scale of it still amazes me.
North Dakota
When we crossed another river, which also marked the state line into North Dakota, I was pleasantly surprised. This state clearly cannot be as “empty” as I had imagined before the trip. Fargo may not be a bustling metropolis, necessarily, but with its connected communities spilling over from Minnesota, it’s definitely big enough to feel like an urban area. We quickly passed through the city, and then everything changed. There are clearly more animals than people here, though unfortunately, that included several dead ones. The traffic was light, mostly long road trains and farm trucks, we still counted at least seven animal carcasses along the roadside. I couldn’t quite figure out where these animals came from. The land around us was flat and open, stretching to the horizon with no wild areas in sight.
Driving through North Dakota felt like it took forever. The landscape hardly changed as we rode along the same wide, straight interstate, passing only the occasional gas station. It was a Sunday, which might explain the sparse traffic. But it also seemed like Sunday is a special day across the Midwest. Religious billboards were everywhere, radio stations played exclusively Christian music, and faith felt present in nearly every corner. For someone from Europe, where religion is usually considered a private matter, it was a bit of a culture shock. We Europeans tend not to openly discuss beliefs, so this felt quite different. Shortly after passing Bismarck, the only major town on our route from Fargo to Medora and the state capital, we crossed the Missouri River for the first, but certainly not the last time. You could feel the change in the air: it grew a little crisper, and the landscape became noticeably more hilly.
Driving through North Dakota felt almost endless, the road wide and straight for miles. We listened to the radio, because that’s what we always do on road trips. While many people create special playlists, for us, tuning in to what the locals hear is part of the experience. The picture painted by the Midwest’s airwaves was rather disheartening. I’ve already mentioned the religious ads, and it’s well known that in times of hardship, people turn to a higher power to find meaning. Alongside those, there were plenty of charity appeals for farmers or miners struggling to afford food or medical care. Life here is tough, but it’s not what should ever happen in the most powerful country in the world. Normally, you’d expect political change, but interestingly, the locals largely continue to support the Republican Party and oppose universal healthcare – something most us Europeans see as a basic human right, but many in the U.S. dismiss as a “communist hoax.” Putting aside Trump for a moment, supporting any political party, left or right, is generally healthy for democracy. Yet, in this case, it feels a bit like turkeys voting for Christmas.
The sun was starting to set, and we still had two more hours to go. At first, I thought we might stop for the night somewhere along the way, probably Dickinson, but we decided to push on for another 40 minutes to Medora, the gateway to the national park we planned to visit. It turned out to be the perfect decision.
Medora and the Theodore Roosevelt National Park
Medora might not be your typical holiday hotspot, its Wikipedia page lists a population of just 121 and shows a handful of tiny buildings dubbed the “business district”. Coupled with the town’s motto, “North Dakota’s #1 Destination,” you might expect a classic Podunk experience and be ready to change your plans on the spot. Thankfully, you might think, the national park entrance is right next door, so there’s no need to linger in Medora. But you’d be wrong. This charming town, with its kind, cheerful, and helpful people, quickly became our absolute favorite stop on the whole trip. Honestly, it might sound sacrilegious, but we actually preferred the town to the park itself, which we loved, by the way.
This is a perfect moment to appreciate the saying that, for Europeans, 100 miles feels far, but for Americans, it’s more like 100 years which is a lot. Medora was founded in 1883 by a French marquis who named the settlement after his wife. His house, the Chateau de Mores, is now a museum and a must-visit for anyone passing through town. The city itself is quaint and charming, with a genuine small frontier-town vibe that you can feel everywhere. Thankfully, it’s not marred by poor architecture, every building, old or new, fits harmoniously into its surroundings. And no, I never did find that so-called business district mentioned earlier.
In November, the tourist season was winding down, so most places were unfortunately closed. When it comes to anything beyond nature, Medora is especially famous for the Medora Musical, a country-western variety show I’ve only seen on YouTube, but it looks really captivating. I’d love to experience it in person one day; the shows start up again in the spring. Dining options were limited too, but the Little Missouri Saloon definitely serves the best, and honestly, the only, bison and elk burgers I’ve ever had. I’d say I preferred the elk; the bison needed some extra sauce since it wasn’t quite juicy enough in my opinion.
Naturally, Medora’s main “selling point” is its location right at the entrance to Theodore Roosevelt National Park. At that time of year, the park’s visitor centre was the only place open where you could buy any memorabilia. The park itself is divided into three separate units: the North Unit, the South Unit (right next to Medora), and the Elkhorn Ranch, which lies between the two. This section of the Badlands is where Theodore Roosevelt fell in love with the landscape and developed his deep commitment to nature conservation. He initially came to the area to hunt bison and ended up buying the Maltese Cross Ranch, where he stayed before his presidency. The cabin he lived in has since been moved next to the visitor centre and still contains a few artefacts that once belonged to the Bull Moose himself. After the devastating events of February 14, 1884, when both his wife and mother died just hours apart, Roosevelt, overcome with grief, returned to North Dakota seeking solitude. He purchased another property, the Elkhorn Ranch, which became his refuge and base whenever he returned to the Badlands.
A proper visit to Theodore Roosevelt National Park takes much more time than we had, it’s three separate units aren’t exactly close to one another. We only managed to explore the Southern Unit, but we fully embraced the “American” approach to sightseeing: if there’s a place worth visiting, chances are there’s a road leading right to it and a parking spot no more than a 15-minute walk away. That was certainly the case here. The South Unit features a 36-mile (60-kilometre) Scenic Loop Drive, though currently, a final few-mile section is under reconstruction, so it’s not quite a loop, and you need to drive back to the park entrance. Along the route, there are parking areas and scenic overlooks every few miles, often near particularly striking landscapes or the ever-popular prairie dog towns, where you can watch the busy little creatures just a few feet away. Other animals you’re likely to spot, whether from your car or just by stepping outside, include bison, bighorn sheep, feral horses, and my personal favourite, pronghorns. All of this is surrounded by pristine nature, stillness, and an overwhelming sense of peace. If you’re lucky, you might also catch a glimpse of some of the nearly 200 bird species that call the park home, or at least enjoy their songs carried on the wind.
If you’re not a car person, life in the U.S. might not be for you. That doesn’t mean you’ll be stuck behind the wheel all the time. The Maah Daah Hey Trail, which links all three units of the park, is actually the longest continuous single-track mountain biking trail in the country. It’s also open to horseback riders and, of course, hikers. Hiking is strongly encouraged, and the infrastructure reflects that, well-marked trails, maintained paths, and information points make it accessible and welcoming even for those who prefer exploring on foot rather than by car.
This post is long enough already so I will finish here with some pictures from the Southern Unit of the T.R.N.P., I hope you will visit one day.
After spending half of the day in the park we headed straight towards South Dakota, with one exception, though. Because Medora is very close to the border with Montana, I just needed to check its welcome sign too.
[…] is the third and the last post about my road trip and just like in the previous ones (part 1 and part 2), there are plenty of pictures you can click on in order to enlarge […]