Lakota Runner, Highway 83 Resident to Tackle New York City Marathon

By STEW MAGNUSON

Travelers on Highway 83 stopping at the Lewis & Clark Interpretive Center at Washburn, North Dakota, over the years may have met Jeffrey Turning Heart Jr., who is a member of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe. 
Born and raised in Eagle Butte, South Dakota, he ran track and cross country at the University of Mary in Bismarck, while working as an interpreter at the center. After graduating from Minot State University with a history degree, he moved full-time to Washburn. He has left that job, but remains in the town and now works with local law enforcement.

Today, you are more likely to spot him running along the local roads. Turning Heart, age 30, is a member of the Lakota 5, a running group that is making a second attempt to complete the New York City Marathon in November after its abrupt cancellation in 2012 because of Hurricane Sandy.

Turning Heart told the Highway 83 Chronicle blog a bit about his life now and running along the route.

SM We first met when you were working at the Lewis & Clark Interpretive Center in Washburn. How long did you work there, and what did that experience teach you?

JTH I worked at the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center and Fort Mandan for almost eight years. The experience taught me how to be more vocal and learned how to speak in front of the public.

SM I imagine you met a lot of visitors over the years who had never met an Native American? Was it difficult fielding all their questions?

JTH At times, it was difficult to answer all the questions because even though it seemed like an honor to be asked questions by those who are curious of my culture, it was difficult because I felt like a sideshow act in a circus.

SM After leaving that job, you decided to remain in Washburn. Why do you like living there?

JTH When I was let go from my job as an interpreter, I remained in Washburn because of the people I grew to know and respect. My friends who became like family kept me in Washburn. I enjoy living in Washburn because of the friends I have made and I love running by the Missouri River.

SM How long have you been running marathons, how many have you completed? And more importantly, what is it about the sport that you love?

JTH I haven’t been running marathons too long. The New York City Marathon was going to be my first but not my last. I have always wanted to try a marathon. I have completed four half-marathons in a course of one year. The sport of running is something I grew to love for over 18 years because of the feeling. I could have the worst day on the planet but once I start to run, I am free from it all. And I love hearing my heart beat as it reminds me of a drum at a powwow. It is something I cannot put into words because as a runner, we all have a different reason why we do what we do.

SM What keeps you motivated through all the injuries, the cold and hot weather the High Plains are known for, and the long distances?

JTH The thing that keeps me motivated through all my injuries is the people. The people I have run for in a total of 17 races in one year are my motivation and my inspiration. The people I run for is not only organizations but the people that I have known that go through a lot, whether it is breast cancer, cystic fibrosis, cerebral palsy or suicide prevention. The people have a special place in my heart and my heart keeps me motivated to keep on running.

SM Do you have any interesting stories about running along Highway 83 that you can share? Or do you try to stay off the busy highways?

JTH I rarely run along the highways because of the traffic but I love running across Highway 200A which connects to Highway 83 because I get to run across a bridge that goes over the Missouri River. It is like running across a beautiful painting of North Dakota’s beauty.

SM Last year, you traveled all the way from Washburn to run in the New York City Marathon with a group of Lakota runners, but when you arrived it was cancelled due to Hurricane Sandy. How did you deal with the disappointment?

JTH We all dealt with the disappointment just like anyone else would, all the months of preparation and the travels but that soon faded away because our main question when we arrived in New York City was “How can we help?” Our team (One Spirit) used our common passion to help those in need by going to Staten Island to help clear rubble and we were honored to be able to help out.

SM What are your plans for this year? I know you have been dealing with some injuries. Are you going to try again?

JTH My plan is get back into running, through my horrible knee injury and to reunite with my teammates in New York City to finish what we had started, to run 26.2 miles to inspire the Lakota youth and many who have been watching us.

SM What is the group you are running with, and how can readers of this blog help?

JTH The group I have been running with is called Team One Spirit and we are also called, The Lakota 5. Our organization is Native Progress and the readers of this blog can help by checking out our and our goal, which is to raise funds for a youth center in Allen, South Dakota on the Pine Ridge Reservation, to help keep our youth active and away from drugs, alcohol, and many other situations that plague the reservation.
(Update: Turning Heart in did run and complete the 2013 New York City Marathon. He continues to run in events throughout the country.)

To join the Fans of U.S. Route 83 group on Facebook, CLICK HERE. And check out the U.S. Route 83 Travel page at www.usroute83.com.

Stew Magnuson is the author of The Last American Highway: A Journey Through Time Down U.S. Route 83: The Dakotas, available at: The Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center in Washburn; Home Sweet Home and Main Street Books in Minot; and the North Dakota Heritage Center and Museum gift shop in Bismarck. Also available on Amazon.com and bookstores and gift shops along Highway 83. And The Last American Highway: Nebraska Kansas Oklahoma edition.

To join the Fans of U.S. Route 83 group on Facebook, CLICK HERE. And check out the U.S. Route 83 Travel page at www.usroute83.com.  Contact Stew Magnuson at stewmag (a) yahoo.com

A Journey Interrupted: Monarch Butterflies on the High Plains

By STEW MAGNUSON

The following is a brief excerpt from the forthcoming book, The Last American Highway: A Journey Through Time Down U.S. Route 83: The Dakotas. It takes place just south of Minot, N.D., September 2009.

A Monarch butterfly flitters out of nowhere, hits my windshield, and tumbles away to the pavement.

I wince.

Credit: Wikimedia Commons: Kenneth Dwain Harrelson

One can avoid hitting a squirrel, rabbit or pheasant. But when a butterfly flies in front of a car, there’s nothing that can be done about it. They hit the windshield and fall on the road like dead leaves in autumn.

This isn’t the first time I had struck a Monarch since I left on the trip. There were others. The previous evening at a gas station in Minot, as the pump was filling up the tank, I took a sopping wet windshield cleaner and started to remove the layer of bug splotches covering the glass.

Making my way around the car, I noticed a perfectly preserved Monarch on the grill, just above the bumper. Its wings were fluttering and for a moment, I thought it was still alive, but it was just the wind. I gently removed it.

The Monarchs I have been inadvertently slaughtering are also traveling south. The orange and black-winged Lepidoptera was traveling even farther than me, though. It’s believed that the Monarchs of the Northern Plains are the only species of butterfly to migrate. The one that hit my windshield was heading south to winter in the warm central mountains of Mexico. Highway 83 runs 1,885 miles.

It seems almost impossible to me that something so delicate intended to fly 1,000 miles beyond the road’s terminus. The migration begins in Canada around August and continues until the first frosts. 

The butterfly I killed would have stopped along the way to fill its abdomen with sunflower nectar, and made its way south, gliding on the winds as often as it could to preserve its strength. Like the route, it would have passed over South Dakota, Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma and finally Texas, where it would meet up with millions of other Monarchs.

They all funnel over the South Texas borderlands, making their way to fir forests, 10,000 feet above sea level on the tops of transvolcanic mountains, where they spend the winter. They mate, and finally die from exhaustion. Their offspring begin the journey north around the second week of March. They lay their eggs along the way in South Texas. Through the spring and summer, each generation flies a little farther north until the great-great-great grand-Lepidoptera emerge from their cocoons in the fields of High Plains. It’s these offspring, the ones I’m encountering now, that begin the nearly 3,000 mile journey to Mexico.

This is why I wince when I strike a Monarch in North Dakota in early September.

I will kill dozens of them during the next two weeks, and I will mourn each and every one of them.

The grasshoppers. Not so much. 

To join the Fans of U.S. Route 83 group on Facebook, CLICK HERE. And check out the U.S. Route 83 Travel page at www.usroute83.com.

Stew Magnuson (stewmag (a) yahoo.com) is the author of Wounded Knee 1973: Still Bleeding: The American Indian Movement, the FBI, and their Fight to Bury the Sins of the Past published by the Now & Then Reader. It is available as an eBook on Kindle, Nook, Kobo and iTunes. Buy it in paperback on Amazon or bookstores such as Plains Trading Company Booksellers, in Valentine, Neb., on Highway 83.  

North Platte Celebrates Its Railroad Roots Third Week Every September

 By MURIEL CLARK 
“Hell on Wheels,” the nickname give to the rowdy camp of railroad workers as they moved West building the Transcontinental Railroad, entered North Platte in November 1886 and it has been a railroad town ever since. As a matter of fact, North Platte was named Rail Town, USA by an act of Congress in 2008. 
As the home of Union Pacific Railroad’s Bailey Yard, certified by the Guinness Book of World Records as the world’s largest railroad classification yard, it only makes sense that North Platte would develop one of the premiere railroad celebrations in America, the North Platte Rail Fest, www.npRailFest.com.
Held annually the third weekend in September, the cornerstone of the three-day Rail Fest is the bus tours of Bailey Yard. The only time of the year that the public is allowed on the nearly 3,000-acre operation, the tours bring visitors up close and personal to all aspects of the rail yard. Best of all, the tours are free thanks to generous donations from Union Pacific Railroad. Step-on guides will share their stories and information on yard operations during the two-hour tour. Tickets must be reserved in advance and are available through the Rail Fest website.
At Cody Park on Highway 83 on the north side of town, all of the skilled trades employed at the yard are represented at the exhibits of railroad jobs, tools and equipment. Railroad personnel are on hand to describe their jobs and what it takes to keep America “on track” by keeping nearly everything we buy rolling on schedule.
Cody Park is also the home of the Railroad Display which features the only Challenger steam locomotive on static public display. The other existing Challenger is owned by Union Pacific and, when running, pulls excursion trains. Also on display is a 6900 series diesel locomotive, the largest ever built. The public can climb in, on and around these huge engines and can explore the accompanying railroad memorabilia exhibit in railroad cars and an historic depot. The Cody Park Railroad Display closes after Rail Fest, but will reopen May 1, 2014.
Elsewhere in the park is non-stop entertainment under the pavilion, a model railroad show, kids activities and food, craft and railroad memorabilia vendors.

The Golden Spike Tower and Visitor Center features an open air viewing deck on the 7th floor and a full enclosed and climate controlled viewing deck on the 8th floor overlooking Bailey Yard. The action in the yard doesn’t stop at sundown, so to give visitors a chance to see the operation at night, the Golden Spike is open until 11:00 p.m. Sept. 21.
Visitors also won’t want to miss the first-ever handcar races hosted on the new 700’ track at the Golden Spike Tower on Sept. 21. Five person teams will compete side by side to see who will be the first to cross the finish line. Handcars may have gone by the wayside in everyday use on railroads, but handcar racing is alive and well.
The Golden Spike Tower and Visitor Center, www.GoldenSpikeTower.com, on the west side of town, is open all year around and is the best way to view Bailey Yard in North Platte. Click here for directions.
North Platte’s infamous past comes to life in a Cemetery Tour featuring an era when North Platte was known as “Little Chicago” and corruption, gambling, bootlegging and prostitution were running rampant through the town. Living history presenters will portray the big players in this age at their gravesites in the North Platte City Cemetery on Sept. 20-21. 
On a lighter note, the heartwarming home front story of the North Platte World War II Canteen will be told on Sept. 22 in “The Canteen Spirit Experience” featuring a screening of the PBS documentary “Canteen Spirit” and a panel of Canteen volunteers and service personnel who came through. More than 6 million service men and women were greeted with a taste of home during their brief stops in North Platte on their way to the front lines of the war, and they never forgot it.

Guest blogger Muriel Clark is the assistant director at the North Platte Visitors Bureau and an ardent supporter of all things Nebraska. Her mission in life is to help people have fun and her vocation and avocation help her do just that. You can find her on Twitter and Facebook as Nebraska Outback.

To join the Fans of U.S. Route 83 group on Facebook, CLICK HERE. And check out the U.S. Route 83 Travel page at www.usroute83.com.

NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON.COM:

Click here to order: THE LAST AMERICAN HIGHWAY: A JOURNEY THROUGH TIME DOWN U.S. ROUTE 83: THE DAKOTAS




Stew Magnuson is the author of Wounded Knee 1973: Still Bleeding: The American Indian Movement, the FBI, and their Fight to Bury the Sins of the Past published by the Now & Then Reader. It is available as an eBook on Kindle, Nook, Kobo and iTunes. Buy it in paperback on Amazon or bookstores such as Plains Trading Company Booksellers, in Valentine, Neb., on Highway 83. 

A Boy, A Girl and A First Kiss on Highway 83

By DAKOTA WIND

We meet again Highway 83. It isn’t very often that I cross paths with you, but when I do I can remember almost each time because it’s a good memory.

The one that stands out to me by far is one from my summer going into high school.

I went to camp, a native youth camp in Oklahoma, the summer of ’89. Saying it that way makes it seem like a lifetime ago, but I suppose it is at that. I don’t remember much of the drive down, other than a bus load of kids, strangers mostly, but for a couple of relatives among the crew.

The native youth event was at an Oklahoma state park. The week went by in a flash. I remember that some local natives had a stomp dance at one of the facilities. There was a girl there (a latent appreciation for the opposite emerged in me that week) named Skye who I thought was a beautiful site. I couldn’t take my eyes off her that evening.

A new friend of mine went over to her on my behalf, because that’s how it’s done. If an Indian boy likes an Indian girl he sends his friend over to ask her name and to speak well of him on his behalf. Painfully, I accepted that I wasn’t on her radar, and I never saw her again.

The camp drew to a close that week ending in a dance. I must have danced with five different girls from different tribes from across the country. I remember thinking that they were all pretty, and one was cute.

One girl asked me out. I said, “No,” because she was from where my grandmother was from and I wondered if we might be related. My grandmother always lectured me about girls that way, “Always find out who she is!” It scared me, and if there was a remote chance of being related in the smallest way, I always declined.

So the camp ended. People parted ways. Once in a great while I’ll come across someone I met from that wonderful week. But it was the return trip back home on Highway 83 I remember most fondly.

There was a girl who wanted me to sit next to her on the drive. She was a fair beauty I thought, and a year older than me. We joked and talked and though I thought she was pretty it was nothing more.

Night came, and the driver plowed though the darkness, wind, and rain. People began to doze off.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and a girl said, “My friend wants to know if you would sit with her.” I responded in the affirmative and made my way to the back of the bus.

She was pretty, and I recognized her as the one who asked me out earlier that week. She had black hair and bangs, only her bangs were worked up in that way that girls did in those days, dark brown eyes flashed mischievously under fine black brows. White teeth shone proudly through a warm smile. She wore a black AC/DC t-shirt and I smiled back.

She pulled her coat up over our heads and the quiet conversations of others dropped away. We were in our own dark world. I saw nothing more of her face. Only her voice as she asked for a kiss.

We removed our glasses. We spoke of little things as our cheeks brushed together. Irresistible instinct closed my eyes. I felt a light brush of her eyelashes upon my cheek as we drew closer. It was dark, and though I couldn’t see her face, I felt her smile as our faces touched, our brows grazed, and noses glanced. I smiled too.

I didn’t feel my heart race in anticipation, but I could feel a steady pounding throughout my body. My hand rested upon hers and a tingle spread up my arm. I felt acutely aware of where she drew her fingers across my arm, as though a ghost of her hand still rested there.

We didn’t hold hands or say endearments that teenagers are wont to do. Her breath on my cheek drew my lips closer to hers like gravity.

The next day, I felt indescribably different inside as though the midnight rain had reached within me and washed something away.

The bus made a series of stops throughout the to gas up and drop a few kids off along the way before coming to a stop at the Episcopal church in Fort Thompson, SD. We made no promises or left favors for one another.

When I think of Highway 83, I remember a night’s passage of late 80’s rock and glam metal, a morning of singing what the Indians call “forty-nine” songs to pass the time. And somewhere along that highway is a quiet memory of a boy and his first kiss. 

Guest blogger Dakota Wind writes about history on the Northern Plains at: http://thefirstscout.blogspot.com/

To join the Fans of U.S. Route 83 group on Facebook, CLICK HERE. And check out the U.S. Route 83 Travel page at www.usroute83.com. 

AND NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON.COM:

Click here to order: THE LAST AMERICAN HIGHWAY: A JOURNEY THROUGH TIME DOWN U.S. ROUTE 83: THE DAKOTAS 

Stew Magnuson (stewmag (a) yahoo.com) is the author of Wounded Knee 1973: Still Bleeding: The American Indian Movement, the FBI, and their Fight to Bury the Sins of the Past published by the Now & Then Reader. It is available as an eBook on Kindle, Nook, Kobo and iTunes. Buy it in paperback on Amazon or bookstores such as Plains Trading Company Booksellers, in Valentine, Neb., on Highway 83.