Susan Sink

Usually in October, when the shadows are long and the sunlight at its absolute best, I can convince Steve to take a day off and go on a little overnight trip. This year, we planned late, and I could find no acceptable lodgings at our first choice, the St. Croix River corridor. The bluffs and valleys are known for their color, and October is prime time.

So we headed west, to the southwestern corner of the state, Pipestone and Luverne, Minnesota. There weren’t many other “tourists,” and probably none who came just for the prairies.

The southwest corner is home to Blue Mounds State Park and some other stands of “remnant” prairie. There are a number of agencies and foundations, including one funded by Jim Brandenburg, a photographer who lives in Duluth but is originally from Luverne, dedicated to restoring and reclaiming prairie. I have to admit, Brandenberg’s “Touch the Sky” prairie, just a bit of acreage bordered by cornfields and grazing pasture, was the most beautiful place we visited. Even that one was a bit overgrown. Talking to the ranger at Blue Mounds, we realized how difficult it is to do a large scale burn in these government-run areas. It requires teams and specialists who are often not available in large numbers on just the right day in that part of the state during the small windows when the conditions are right and the wind blowing not much and from the necessary direction. Because of that, the prairies are a bit overgrown with bluegrass, reed canary, and brome. Still, especially this time of year, there is a lot of red and gold beauty.

Southwest Minnesota is also a leader in wind farming. The wind turbines are everywhere, and we even went by a wind turbine blade manufacturer just outside of Pipestone. The blades are enormous when you see the lying there side by side on the ground. It gives you pause to think about what’s going on with all those dozens and dozens of turbines spinning slowly all over the countryside. One thing is certain, at 300 households per turbine, they’re producing more energy than there are people out there where Minnesota, South Dakota, and Iowa come together.

cord grass

October prairies are beautiful. There aren’t any showy blooms to distract you from the grasses. A helpful exhibit at the Pipestone National Monument allowed us to identify the major types. Pipestone Monument is worth a stop, too. Hey, it’s only $3/person! The stone is still quarried by Native Americans now for use making sacred pipes and art objects. The stone is soft and a deep red color. The texture reminded me of soapstone. The area is sacred to the local tribes, a variety of Sioux and Crow tribes that were scattered across the West and Midwest in the nineteenth century. The short nature walk at the monument gives you a sense of the intimacy of the spot, with low ridges cradling a stream and small falls. You can imagine early settlers or natives “encountering” it. This is especially interesting given the expanse of prairie-turned-grazing-and-agricultural fields that surround it.

We also learned we were on the Coteau des Prairies. It’s a large elevated area from North Dakota down through Iowa that was basically made by glaciers until it was thick enough that the last glacier parted around it. It’s rocky, with red granite (and pipestone) just beneath the surface, which is why there’s more grazing than farming. When you’re “on it,” you can’t tell, because the coteau itself is contoured, with ridges and flatlands and tree-lined rivers and streams.

Luverne has a fantastic restaurant, the Sterling Bar and Grille (this was a selling point for me for the trip). We split a seasonal special, buffalo pie, sort of a deconstructed pot pie with buffalo stew on the bottom and a delicious mound of mashed potatoes on top. The restaurant is in an old building downtown made of the ubiquitous red granite. The downtown is just another struggling pioneer town. It could easily provide a set for Fargo, complete with full-service travel agency. It did have a nice marquis theater. In the summer, there is a drive-in and a great looking burger/ice cream stand. I would imagine people pull off to see the Brandenburg Gallery, or the buffalo herd at Blue Mound State Park. They’re impressive buffalo, one of the very few remaining herds that have pure buffalo– no interbreeding with cattle. But seeing them grazing far off was nothing like the buffalo experience I had at Theodore Roosevelt National Park in July, when one just came walking down the trail 50 feet below us. That was extraordinary, maybe the way only a national park can be. The prairie in October– what’s left of it– takes a little more imagination, but the beauty is there for those who go looking.