Spirit Lake Indian Reservation

So this weekend we've decided to mosey south to Fargo and then west to Jamestown.  If we stay on the Interstates, travel should be no problem.

Our lil' home away from home

Shortly, the skies clear out, and we begin to look down the side roads. I suggest we cut the trip much shorter by taking a step-down from the Interstate but still a good road, State Highway 200.  It's almost a straight shot west to Carrington.  From there we'll head north to Devil's Lake.

For miles and miles we are in the middle of nowhere.  There's a (very) occasional structure which may or may not be a home and may or may not be occupied.  Then, in the middle of this nowhere, we find:

this very pretty, very big church!  I'd love to be here on a Sunday, sitting in the cupola of the steeple, watching the neighbors gathering to worship!

We travel on to Carrington, stop in the local cafe for a hot lunch, and travel on.

We enter the Spirit Lake Indian Reservation at Sheyenne.  I don't know if you've ever been on a Reservation, but every single one we've been on is not pretty.  I realize the United States government wasn't giving away an oasis when it came to picking sites, but, come on.  It's been a hundred and, what? fifty years??  seventy-five??  And the last twenty of those years they've had casinos to help fund themselves...  I'm just sayin'...

And then we come upon Spirit Lake - well, what was Spirit Lake.

Now it seems to be everyone's favorite ice fishing spot!  It's a huge, huge lake, and as far around the shoreline as we travel we find mobile "villages" of ice fishermen (and women) (and children).

Notice the foreground.  While John is out taking photos I'm studying that ridge that follows the shoreline.  My mind is searching for a term that I've heard in the past and finally uncovers "pressure ridge."  I think that's what it's called.  I get John to zoom in on a particular section of it.  (It's an amazing marriage when the man will listen to the directions his wife gives when it comes to taking a picture...)  This is what he's got:

Isn't that what's called a pressure ridge, where two immovable objects butt up against each other, but one of them has to give?  That sheet of ice sticking up there is about 10" thick.  No wonder cars can drive on it.

This sucker is frozen solid, thick solid, all the way to the far shoreline - and it won't thaw out until next summer.  It's even got another 2 or 3 months to freeze even thicker!  Once you get past the pressure ridge it is flatter than a flitter and smooth as glass.

We have taken the eastern fork of the shoreline road and finally end up at the town of Devils Lake.  It's a pretty big place, right on U.S. Highway 2.  Interestingly, gasoline is 15 cents cheaper here than Grand Forks, so naturally Granpa has to fill up the gas tank.  I get a cup of hot tea and a candy bar, some peanuts for him, then we hit the road for home.  It's been a nice getaway day.