Reba, the Road, and a Lobster in North Dakota 🦞

Day 1: Vikings, Vines & a Very Windy Welcome

Every great adventure has to start somewhere. Ours started with a checklist longer than the Great Plains and Reba.

Before we could even think about hitting the open road, there was a lot of adulting to do. Todd ran a full systems and tires check on Reba like the responsible RV-pilot he is, while I handed off my beloved (and somehow still surviving) houseplants to our neighbor Ann. We called our friends at the Burnsville Police Department to request some extra love for our little place on Carriage Lane while we'd be away, and then we finally pointed Reba's nose northwest and drove 450 miles to North Dakota.

Let me tell you something about North Dakota that no travel brochure adequately prepares you for: it is W-I-N-D-Y.

And not just a gentle, "oh how refreshing" kind of breezy. We're talking full-send, hold-onto-your-hat, are-we-being-abducted windy. Driving Reba through those gusts felt less like a leisurely pleasure cruise and more like piloting a very large, very expensive go-cart through a wind tunnel. Every gust nudged us from one side of the road to the other, and I gripped my armrest with the quiet dignity of someone trying very hard not to scream.

But here's the thing about North Dakota, once you get past the aerobic terror of driving an RV through it, it is gorgeous. Wide open skies, rolling fields, and the kind of quiet that reminds you the world is actually pretty big and FLAT.

Our first-night destination? Viking Vines, a winery tucked into a picturesque North Dakota countryside that also happens to run a small RV park in the back. We pulled in alongside just five other happy campers, which felt perfectly cozy.

After setting up camp, we followed a beautiful path past actual grapevines growing the very fruit that would soon become the very wine in my very glass, up to the main house for the Friday Night Supper Club. A three-course dinner. In a winery. In North Dakota. We were already winning.

The menu:

🍉 Watermelon feta salad — bright, fresh, and exactly what you want after a wind-battered drive
🦐 A seafood boil featuring mussels, shrimp, potatoes, coleslaw, homemade hushpuppies, and... LOBSTER 🦞
🍊 A whipped orange creamsicle pie with a graham cracker crust — scrumptious doesn't even cover it

Yes. LOBSTER. In North Dakota. About 1,500 miles from the nearest ocean. Was it the finest lobster ever caught from the cold Atlantic depths? Look, let's just say it was absolutely delicious and leave the oceanographic comparisons where they belong — in the hands of people who aren't currently in a winery in the Great Plains eating lobster in utter disbelief.

The owners were the warmest, most wonderful hosts. When I mentioned this was the very first night of our big adventure, one of them chuckled and said, "Ah, the first night! When you figure out everything that's not working correctly!"

He meant it kindly. He also had no idea that just a week and a half earlier, Reba had been towed to the repair shop. So we laughed and silently sent up every prayer we had that Reba would hold it together.

As the night wound down, the wind was still doing its thing, but somehow, out there in the countryside, it felt less like a threat and more like a lullaby. We slid the windows open, the temperature having dropped to a gorgeous fall-ish 45 degrees (that's prime sleeping weather, people), piled under a fluffy comforter, and let our two puppies claim their rightful spots at the foot of the bed.

Day 2: The Button Heard 'Round the Prairie (And Baby Goats!)

Morning arrived with the smell of coffee and a packed-up campsite. Breakfast done, puppies fed, Willow and Aspen curled in their little beds between us as Todd settled into the pilot's seat, index finger hovering over the engine start button.

He pressed it.

...Nothing.

I held my breath. Todd, bless him, kept his cool, made a couple of critical adjustments, and pressed the button one more time.

Success. 🎉

Crisis averted. Reba lives to roll another day.

After five hours of beautiful driving we reached the legendary Badlands. Having done Medora on Reba's maiden voyage last year, we cruised on through this time, adding a bonus hour for a time change, and arrived at our Harvest Host destination:

Purely Goatique. A goat farm. Our first goat farm stay.

Owners Mary and Rob greeted us in the driveway with the kind of warm smiles that make you feel like you've arrived home somewhere you've never been before. They talked us through their world of goats, cows, chickens, all living their best lives on a beautifully situated property nestled into the bluffs. The goats, sensing new audience members, immediately began showing off. Baby calves wobbled around being aggressively adorable. It was basically a live version of the internet's greatest hits.

In the farm shop, I found a darling little tin containing a heart-shaped bar of homemade lavender lotion and then I spotted it: a children's book about life on the farm. I bought it on the spot. It's the first book I've purchased for our grandson Simon, due this August. Mary and Rob even signed it for him.

I may have gotten a little misty. The goats were very supportive.