Being British, every time I encounter an American, I’m eager to share with them: “I once lived in your country!”
“Oh, where exactly?” they typically respond, courteously overlooking the detail that 300 million others could also claim the same.
Then, when I inform them about my previous place of residence, they invariably ask me: “Why?”
- Properly soften towels by including 2 common kitchen items in your washing machine.
- Lip reader captures Melania Trump’s instructions to Donald Trump, revealing her genuine sentiments.
It’s actually not unexpected since I once resided in the US state that sees the fewest visitors. Despite being two times larger than Scotland, the whole state has fewer residents compared to just San Francisco.
It’s not merely vacant; it’s bone-chillingly cold too. This kind of frigidness goes beyond what many can comprehend. Imagine this: If you were to pour water from a cup through an upper-story window, it would turn into icy shards before hitting the ground. That describes the winter conditions there. However, during the summertime, temperatures soar higher than they ever do in Britain.
I understand your thoughts: you might believe this location isn’t genuine, but rather something fabricated by me. However, that’s not true. North Dakota genuinely exists—and it stands out uniquely. Despite its obscurity compared to some more famous locales, it deserves wider recognition. Indeed, numerous regions experience extreme temperatures—some bitterly cold and others scorchingly hot—including various parts within the U.S. Yet few areas combine these climatic extremities with such vast open spaces primarily consisting of expansive plains interspersed with tiny settlements and deserted towns alongside highways dotted equally with vehicles flipped over into snow banks and those still navigating them correctly.
It’s genuinely an incredible location. Although I resided there for merely half a year quite some time back, it remains ingrained within me forever. If reincarnation were possible, I could easily see myself leading a contented existence there—passing winter days drilling holes through multiple-feet-thick ice using a heavy-duty drill that I transport via my large pickup truck, which stays parked right on the frozen surface of the lake. During summertime, one would find me observing cowhands rounding up animals during quaint local rodeos and indulging in corndogs at rural fairgrounds.
I felt fortunate—yes, truly lucky—to be present when the temperature dropped significantly below normal levels during one particular winter. Even residents of North Dakota found these conditions unusually harsh. At their peak, thermometers plummeted to -44°F in January. To provide some perspective, in his 1922 memoir “The Worst Journey in the World,” Apsley Cherry-Garrard recounts experiences from Robert Falcon Scott’s Terra Nova expedition to the South Pole, where they faced temperatures ranging between -40°F and -70°F.
A few months after that, at the same location, I captured an image of my car’s thermometer indicating a temperature of 117°F. Interestingly, North Dakota experienced both its lowest and highest temperatures within the span of one year; it dropped to -60°F in February 1936 before soaring to 121°F just five months later (a staggering fluctuation of 180°F over those five months).
In the 21st century, naturally, even under such extreme temperatures, I remained completely safe. I depended on heating systems, air conditioners, cars, houses, phones, and occasionally even convenience stores. However, this area used to be part of America’s frontier, where individuals arrived either walking or via covered wagons driven by horses or oxen. They were lured by the promise of the American Dream and sought a piece of land they purchased, which they then needed to locate within these expansive wildlands to construct homes using available resources.
Even in the 21st century, I remained the sole individual I encountered who walked outdoors anywhere; occasionally, someone would stop to inquire if I was alright, despite my merely strolling down the pavement.
By 2025, North Dakota boasts one of the most rapidly expanding populations within the USA, home to approximately 800,000 residents today (which is just slightly more than half the number residing in The Bronx). This growth can be attributed partially to an booming oil sector. When I resided there previously, however, it held the unfortunate title of having the lowest visitation rate across all U.S. states. Despite this significant increase in population, it remains among the country’s least densely populated areas, averaging about 11 individuals for each square mile (in stark contrast to New York City, which sees a staggering density of nearly 29,000 inhabitants per square mile).
However, despite the harsh weather and seclusion being what I recall most prominently, many aspects of my stay in North Dakota remain sharply etched in my memory. Among these experiences were visits to deserted settlements, such as one rumored locally to be avoided by personnel from the nearby large airbase who would take extensive routes just to steer clear of this place allegedly overrun by Satanists—a claim that seemed unfounded based on my observations.
I attended rodeos, county fairs, and visited Native American reservations. Additionally, I followed the journey of renowned American explorers Lewis and Clark, who traversed from St. Louis to the Pacific Ocean through North Dakota during the early 1800s. They documented the extensive territory that the United States gained with the Louisiana Purchase at that time.
I strolled through the Badlands with wild bison grazing freely all around, and I remain certain even now that I was fortunate enough to avoid a potential encounter with wolves that either did not spot me or chose for some inexplicable reason not to attempt attacking me.
I strolled along the vast shores of Lake Sakakawea, which rivals the size of Los Angeles, and ventured into small taverns located in remote hamlets far off the beaten path where every stranger encountered was invariably kind, gentle, and hospitable. A crowd went out of their way to help me when they saw my vehicle bogged down in a snowdrift; they arrived speeding over the snow on what can only be described as a snowbound jetski operated via a plow.
The most notable contribution from North Dakota might be the movie (and later TV series) Fargo, titled after the state’s largest city. However, I believe it deserves recognition for far more than just this.
Leave a Reply