I DON’T CARE how many times I’ve seen this water tower smiling down at me along Interstate 94 in Freeport. I still react with a smile each time I spot it.
In a community which is reportedly the inspiration for Garrison Keillor’s fictional Lake Wobegon, this water tower epitomizes “Have a good day” in a singular visual.
And that, my friends, makes me happy.
Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
DAILY, THOUSANDS OF TRAVELERS zip by Rothsay on Interstate 94, mostly oblivious to this rural Wilkin County community which claims notoriety as the “Prairie Chicken Capital of Minnesota.”
If not for the 18-foot high prairie chicken statue perched atop a hill overlooking the interstate, few would notice Rothsay. (Click here to view my previous prairie chicken post.)
The local combination lumberyard and hardware store, a mainstay of small towns.
But this community of nearly 500 is worth a stop for anyone who appreciates small towns as I do. I delight in the businesses which define communities like this—the local co-op, hardware store and lumberyard. The bank. The home-grown eateries and one-of-a-kind shops. The efforts to preserve history.
Vehicles parked behind the automotive body and repair shop.
Even the vehicles parked along the quiet streets, the unlocked bikes beside the school, tell a story.
On this stop in Rothsay, I had only time for a quick photographic perusal. That was enough to satisfy my desire to view this community, to feel its heartbeat.
Most rural communities are home to a famer’s cooperative.
I just had to appreciate the name of this ice cream shop in Rothsay, with a mosquito atop the roof.
A church turned thrift store.
Ole and Lena’s Pizzeria serves pizza, pasta and sandwiches. No lutefisk or lefse listed on the outdoor sign.
Typically the nicest building in town, the bank.
From what I observed, this is an historic blacksmith shop, not a working one. Note the unlocked bikes in the background parked outside the public school.
FYI: Click here to read my previous post about the Wilkin County Sheriff’s Department office in Rothsay.
© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
NUMEROUS TIMES ON TRIPS to and from Fargo, I’ve wanted to stop and photograph a kitschy roadside attraction along Interstate 94 on the edge of Rothsay. But time never allowed, until Friday morning.
This prairie chicken statue celebrates the real prairie chickens which reside in the Rothsay area.
I convinced my husband, who didn’t seem as excited as me, that we had time for a photo op with an 18-foot tall, 8,000-pound prairie chicken. He sat in the van while I did a quick photo shoot in the whipping wind.
In the right background of this photo, you can see smoke.
From our hilltop position next to the interstate, we noticed a towering plume of white smoke in the distance. Randy speculated a controlled burn at a nearby wildlife refuge. I wasn’t so sure. Who would be crazy enough to light the land afire on a windy day like Friday? But what do I know?
The road to the left leads into Rothsay, “Prairie Chicken Capital of Minnesota.”
So…given my curiosity about this self-proclaimed “Prairie Chicken Capital of Minnesota,” we drove into Rothsay and meandered through residential areas before parking across from the Wilkin County Sheriff’s Department office (that’s another story) to scout out the town.
Soon, the wail of sirens pierced the quiet of an unexciting Friday morning in Rothsay as a rescue squad vehicle and fire truck roared out of town. To that fire, I presumed.
I shot a few more photos and then, just as we were about to leave the downtown, spotted a thrift store in an old church. We stopped.
This photo shows a section of the road ditch burned Friday morning along I-94 near Rothsay and photographed several hours later.
When I met a local exiting the thrift shop, I asked if he knew anything about the fire. As I expected, he did. Word travels fast in a small town like Rothsay, population around 500. The fire, he said, was burning in the road ditch along the west side of the interstate about a mile north of town.
“Could have started with a bearing going out on a truck,” he speculated.
Or a cigarette butt tossed out a vehicle window, I thought.
Then he advised us not to take the interstate. “Go past the truck stop on the edge of town and keep going straight north til you get to County Road 108. Turn onto that and it will take you back onto the interstate,” he repeated. Thrice.
He reckoned that drivers, blinded by the smoke, might be piling into one another on the roadway. “They don’t slow down like they should.”
More of the charred road ditch from the Friday morning grass fire which halted traffic and caused accidents.
Randy wasn’t so sure the elderly man was right. I was. He seemed quite sure of his information.
As we aimed toward the edge of Rothsay, my indecisive husband suggested that we watch for southbound traffic on I-94. There was none. So north we traveled on a county road, soon catching glimpses of long lines of stopped traffic on both sides of the interstate.
From the County Road 108 entrance ramp nearly all the way to Moorhead, a distance of about 40 miles, we had the entire interstate mostly to ourselves. Talk about an eerie feeling. But better to freewheel along the interstate than to be stuck in traffic at the dual emergency site of a grass fire and multiple crashes.
So that is my story of how a prairie chicken, and a kindly man from Rothsay, saved the day for us.
And, I suppose, I can take some credit, too, as I suggested we stop in Rothsay. If not for my desire to photograph kitschy art, we would have driven right into that smoke and…perhaps another vehicle.
The feet of the giant “booming” prairie chicken along with info about the statue erected in 1976.
FYI: According to minimal information I found online, several crashes resulted from the large grass fire burning along I-94 near mile marker 36 north of Rothsay. I couldn’t find any details.
Also, according to info I read online, the 23-mile section of roadway from the Downer exit to Rothsay is known as “the Bermuda Triangle of I-94” because of the high volume of crashes during the winter months. The article doesn’t cite grass fires. Click here to read that story.
This past weekend, numerous grass fires were reported in this region of Minnesota. Click here to read about the fires.
Also, due to the high fire danger in many areas of Minnesota, the Department of Natural Resources has issued burning restrictions in specific counties. Click here to learn more about those restrictions.
© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Near St. Cloud Thursday afternoon on a day that seemed more November-like than May.
IN TYPICAL FORMER farm girl and farm boy fashion, my husband and I watched for farmers in the fields during our 600-mile round trip between Faribault and Fargo on Thursday and Friday to retrieve our youngest from North Dakota State University.
We traveled the interstate to Fargo, but took the back roads south and east (mostly Minnesota Highways 15 and 19) on the way home to avoid the road construction and traffic snarls near Clearwater and in the metro Friday evening.
Working the field near the Sabin exit Friday.
Digging, also near Exit 15 to Sabin.
East of Moorhead, draft horses seed small grain.
Based on our observations from Interstate 94, farmers between Fergus Falls and Moorhead, a distance of about 50 miles, are the most advanced in spring field work within the region we traveled.
Photographed near Collegeville on Thursday afternoon.
A Freeport area farm with an, as of Thursday afternoon, unworked field.
Field work before then rates as spotty and really only begins in the St. Cloud area.
As the sun begins to set along Minnesota Highway 15, a John Deere works the land.
North of Winthrop Friday evening, dust flies in the field.
Driving south on Minnesota 15 between I-94 and Winthrop Friday evening, we noticed lots of farmers out and about.
But then, heading east on State Highway 19, we saw fields basically untouched since last fall.
I expect, at least in southern Minnesota where we had those monumental late spring snowfalls, farmers are getting a wee worried about getting corn in the ground.
The sun sets across the prairie north of Winthrop on Friday.
© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Just like The Beverly Hillbillies, a rocking chair is secured atop this van.
MOVING WEST or heading west and north up to the lake cabin? I’m not sure given the cargo and the Maine license plate on the boat trailer.
But the fictional Clampett family of the 1962-1971 comedic television series, The Beverly Hillbillies, has nothing on these travelers spotted along Interstate 94 about five miles east of Alexandria Thursday afternoon.
What do you think? Lake cabin or permanent move?
Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
DEAR SON,
In less than three weeks you finish your spring semester classes at North Dakota State University in Fargo.
Traveling Interstate 94 on our way to Fargo with hours to go. File photo.
Your dad and I are wondering whether we should come by dog sled or boat to retrieve you and your belongings once we cross the border into North Dakota. What would you suggest?
I’ll admit that, with the continuing snowfall in Fargo, I’m beginning to wonder if your winter will ever end. Kind of like here in southern Minnesota.
The placid and narrow Red River photographed from Lindenwood Park in Fargo, June 2012.
And, I’m quite concerned about flooding of the Red River. Everything I read or hear seems to indicate record high water levels.
I viewed a computer simulated graphic of the Red at 42 feet. (Click here.) I know NDSU isn’t by the river, but the graphic shows the campus close to an area protected by levees and near areas which could be affected by back up of flood waters through the sewer system. I know, I know, nothing to worry about, right?
I suppose I just have to trust that Fargo officials have the situation under control. I read on the City of Fargo website that Sandbag Central has reopened and that levees will be built to 43 feet, protecting to a river level of 41 feet with two feet of “freeboard,” whatever that means.
The Sertoma Freedom Bridge over the Red River, linking Lindenwood Park in Fargo and Gooseberry Mound Park in Moorhead. File photo from June 2012.
It’s difficult to imagine, after seeing the Red last summer, how this river could flood into a raging and destructive force. Remember when we walked across that foot bridge over the Red linking Minnesota and North Dakota? I recall not being at all impressed with the size of the river.
The flat landscape near Fargo, on the Minnesota side. File photo from February 2012.
But when I consider the flat landscape in and around Fargo, flatter even than the prairie where I grew up (you know, that place you term “the middle of nowhere”), I understand. I compare the flooding of Fargo to spilling a glass of milk onto a table. The milk runs everywhere.
Anyway, when you have time between classes, could you drop me a line and advise?
Dog sled or boat?
Love,
Mom
P.S. Does Interstate 94, which spans the Red River between Moorhead and Fargo, remain open if the Red floods?
UPDATE: According to information posted at 4:09 p.m. April 23 on the NDSU website, there are “no foreseen threats to the NDSU campus.” The university has a response team in place and continues to monitor the projected Red River level reports and attend meetings with the Fargo City Commission. Click here to read the flood-related statement posted on the NDSU website.
Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
FOX 9 news at 8 a.m. shows just how bad the weather situation is in Minnesota, North Dakota and Wisconsin. Fargo is located above the B in “Blowing.” Faribault lies 300 miles to the south and east along Interstate 35, in the eastern edge of the blizzard warning.
ALREADY SATURDAY AFTERNOON his dad and I were urging him to call Brittany, his ride back to North Dakota State University.
“You need to leave early on Sunday,” we suggested to our 19-year-old. We’d heard the weather forecast for snow and strong winds, creating blizzard conditions. “If you don’t, you’ll end up stranded in some town along I-94 because they’ve closed the interstate.”
He listened. Brittany listened. They left at 10 a.m. Sunday, picking up three other NDSU students en route, arriving six hours later in Fargo. They beat the snow and the wind, if you can ever beat the wind in North Dakota. Many times our son has declared, “It’s a good day in Fargo when the wind doesn’t blow.”
FOX 9 news at 8 a.m. today lists the I-94 and other western Minnesota road closures.
This morning I-94 between Alexandria and Fargo is closed as persistent wind gusts of 40-50 mph sweep through the region creating those white-out conditions, making travel impossible. Along other sections of that interstate, especially in the Stearns County area, the Minnesota Department of Transportation has tagged travel as hazardous.
This morning NDSU is closed. I expect the son is sleeping in.
Even though I’d love to have him home for an extra day of spring break, I’m relieved that my boy is tucked safe inside Johnson Hall. Better there than 300 miles away in Faribault and all of us worrying about how he would make it back to Fargo for classes tomorrow.
You see, always at the back of my mind niggles the memory of a horrific crash along icy I-94 west of Alexandria on February 20, 2012, which killed four young women from Minnesota, all students at NDSU.
TELL ME ABOUT weather and travel in your area. How bad is it out there?
© Text copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
IN THE PAST YEAR, I’ve begun to really pay attention to billboards. Prior to this, I viewed these mega ads primarily as visual clutter.
A string of billboards near Alexandria, photographed while driving eastbound back to Faribault along Interstate 94.
But now this open air, in-your-face advertising has evolved into a diversion from a long and weary journey along a familiar route. For me, that tedious trip has been the 600-mile round trip to and from Fargo, North Dakota, four times since February. (Our son attends North Dakota State University.)
At first the drive was interesting. I haven’t traveled all that often across this region of Minnesota along Interstate 94.
Abandoned stone house along I94 near Avon.
Now, though, I am so familiar with the sites that I can tell you exactly where to find the abandoned stone house I wish would be restored (near Avon),
Freeport, “The city with a smile!” is marked by this smiling water tower.
…the location of the vintage smiley-faced water tower (Freeport)
The most entertaining of all the billboards along Interstate 94 between Faribault and Fargo is this one for Kentucky Fried Chicken just west of Alexandria. Seriously, I’d like to see anyone dragging this billboard coupon into KFC.
…and even where you will spot a particularly interesting billboard coupon (Alexandria).
The billboards along I-94 from Monticello west begin to draw my eye as the land eases from urban to rural. They are a diversion, markers of towns and cities along the route and a source of entertainment and, sometimes, amusement.
I totally cannot tell you the exact location of this billboard for Zorbaz on the Lake along I-94. But the “pregnant burrito…a bundle of joy” slogan just does not work for me. But I suppose since I noticed the message, the billboard is effective.
What is it about these restaurant advertisers? A sub as big as a billboard? Oh, yeah, read the small print. Snapped this sign near Melrose/Albany.
Just east of Fargo/Moorhead, you know you’re in farming country. And, yes, I counted all 14 insects on this billboard.
Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
FIFTY MILES FROM FARGO, he called his dad. His words were garbled, cutting in and out.
So he hung up, dialed my cell. “Give me Dad,” he snarled.
I waited, listening to one side of a conversation that did not sound good.
After my husband clicked off my phone, he told me that Julie’s car had broken down near Fergus Falls. Our son’s friend had managed to steer the smoking vehicle off Interstate 94 at eastbound exit 50. There they sat, four North Dakota State University college students stranded along the interstate on Thanksgiving Eve with nearly 250 miles to go.
Interstate 94 sometimes seems to run right into the sky as you drive west toward Fargo. (File photo)
What to do? We offered to drive the four hours north and west to Fergus Falls. But Caleb told us to wait, that they were trying to figure things out, to find a tow truck and perhaps hitch a ride from another friend back home to Faribault.
At one point, in several exchanged phone calls, my son ordered, “Stop freaking out, Mom.”
Alright then.
I asked Caleb to keep me posted. And eventually they worked it out, securing a tow and ride, walking from the mechanic’s shop a short distance to a nearby convenience store, waiting for the friend to arrive from Fargo. By 9 p.m., they were back on the interstate, 2 ½ hours after that initial SOS to my automotive machinist husband who was trying to long-distance diagnose problems with an aged Honda.
Shortly after our son and three others left Fergus, Julie’s dad phoned saying her car had already been repaired. (Phil didn’t know the specific diagnosis.) Julie had insisted on staying with her vehicle, sending the others on their way home.
My husband doubted anyone would repair the Honda on Thanksgiving Eve, or anytime prior to Friday. He was, obviously, wrong.
So we waited, me reading, my husband nodding off as the television blared and the minutes crept into hours, past midnight and then 1 a.m.
Shortly after 1 a.m., our son arrived home and we embraced in fierce, tight hugs. I was so relieved to have my boy home early Thanksgiving morning.
But there is more to tell, for this is also a story of thankfulness.
Thank you to the good people, the many strangers, who stopped to check on the stranded travelers at eastbound exit 50 by Fergus Falls. There were many, our son said.
Thank you to the mechanic who repaired Julie’s car on Thanksgiving Eve.
And thank you to the young woman who was willing to drive three other college students 250 miles home.
On this Thanksgiving Day, I am a grateful mother.
© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Westbound for Fargo on Interstate 94 near the West Union exit on Saturday morning.
NEARLY 10 HOURS in a vehicle traveling almost 600 miles round trip to Fargo, North Dakota, under the gloomiest of grey November skies can test one’s endurance.
The eyes began to wander, to lock onto the slightest patches of color in an otherwise dull and monotone landscape.
Billboards offer a diversion as do the semis which follow Interstate 94, some forking north toward Canada, others continuing even farther west into the endless grey expanse.
A section of the journey where there are still hills. My eyes focus on the brilliant red hue of the barn.
Near Barnesville, a short distance east of Fargo and Moorhead, piles of corn brighten the muted landscape.
Hunters in bright orange roam fields during the opening weekend of firearms deer hunting in Minnesota.
Red barns and piles of golden corn and deer hunters in blaze orange distract me from the barren greyness of this journey to the Red River valley. I wonder at that use of the word “valley,” for I see no indentations in the earth to suggest a valley.
This quaint country church in the distance somewhere east of Fargo/Moorhead always calms my spirits.
I am a prairie native. But even for me, the flat land west of Fergus Falls and into Fargo/Moorhead challenges my spirit. I feel insecure and diminished in this place and that unsettles me.
How can a place seem so flat that I feel as if I will step off the earth should I journey any further than the northwestern fringes of Fargo?
Downtown Fargo late Saturday afternoon under sullen skies with a light mist falling.
More gloomy skies on the return trip from Fargo to Faribault on Sunday afternoon.
Spots of orange (slow moving vehicle signs) provide a respite for my eyes on Sunday’s drive home.
© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
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