After awhile we began to lose hope. Mile after mile, hour after hour, we drove past boringly similar landscapes: more hay bales here, another farm there – hey look, a cow! We started to believe the stunning western vistas we’ve seen photographed so frequently were nothing more than a hoax. We traveled clear across North Dakota, nearly to Montana, and . . . “Holy Shit!”

It happened just that fast. One moment we were considering the virtues of yet another grassy hill, the next we’re catching a flash of the rough and rugged landscape of Theodore Roosevelt National Park. Our first glimpse of Painted Canyon elicited that exact exclamation from both of us.

One of the things that surprised us most is how green the park was. We had expected brown, arid plains but instead found brilliant shades of moss and sage that reminded us, if only slightly, of the Emerald Isle. Once again, we count ourselves fortunate. Rainfall at the park was four times above average. This lush foliage isn’t typical. It seems as if Teddy Roosevelt dressed up special for our arrival. We’re deeply honored.