Travel far enough, you meet yourself

After leaving the rugged mountains of Montana behind us, we crossed into North Dakota, a state that feels like a quiet secret of the Great Plains. Our goal was simple: spend one night at Buffalo Gap Campground before continuing east toward the state of Minnesota. What we found was more than just a place to sleep; it was a slice of solitude in the heart of the Badlands.

The drive into Buffalo Gap felt like stepping into a painting. The late afternoon sun cast golden light across rolling hills, and the jagged silhouettes of the Badlands rose in the distance like ancient sculptures. The campground itself was peaceful, tucked away from the bustle of the highway, with wide-open spaces that invite you to breathe deeper.

We parked our trailer under a sky that seemed endless. As dusk settled, the horizon glowed in shades of orange and violet, and the air carried that crisp prairie scent—a mix of dry grass and earth. Dinner was simple a meal, the kind that tastes better because you earned it after a long day on the road.

When darkness fell, the stars came alive. With almost no light pollution, the night sky was a glittering dome, so clear you could trace the Milky Way from one end to the other. We sat outside listening to the soft rustle of wind through the grass and the occasional distant call of a coyote. It was one of those rare moments where time slows down, and you realize how vast and beautiful the world really is.

Morning greeted us with a pastel sunrise and the promise of a long drive east. Leaving Buffalo Gap, we rolled through the Theodore Roosevelt National Park area, where the land tells stories in layers of colored rock and roaming wildlife. We spotted a few bison grazing near the road—a reminder that this is their home, and we’re just passing through.

As we pushed eastward, the scenery shifted from rugged Badlands to endless prairies. North Dakota’s highways are ribbons of asphalt stretching toward the horizon, flanked by fields that seem to go on forever. Every so often, a small town would appear, places like Dickinson and Bismarck, each with its own charm, grain elevators standing tall like sentinels of the plains.

The rhythm of the drive was soothing: big skies, open roads, and the occasional surprise, like a roadside diner serving strong coffee and homemade pie. By the time we crossed the Red River into Minnesota, the landscape softened into wooded hills and shimmering lakes—a gentle transition from prairie to forest.

Our one-night stay at Buffalo Gap and the drive across North Dakota reminded us why road trips are so magical. It’s not just about the destination; it’s about the quiet moments, the starry skies, the endless fields, the feeling of freedom when the road stretches ahead.