Up the Missouri, on the Lewis and Clark Trail

The facade of the Corn Palace, in Mitchell, South Dakota, is entirely made from corn --- corn husks, corn kernels and corn silk. Every  year the facade is remade, with a new theme. And it is seasonally correct. 

Yesterday's itinerary took us southwest across Iowa --- not straight west from Dubuque --- because we wanted to see Omaha, where Lewis and Clark's Corps of  Discovery spent a month or more in the summer of 1804. Their campsite lay across the Missouri from Council Bluffs, which, in 1804, had already served as a traditional gathering point for tribal leaders. Omaha, however, would see no serious settlement for another 80 years. Here the Corps hunted, fished, and waited while Clark drew up maps, and Lewis built relations with local tribal chiefs, gaining intelligence about the river and the tribes to the north, and scoring important diplomatic points that would serve him well (warning: plot spoiler!) all the way to the Pacific and back.

This morning, we hot-footed it out of what seemed to be very-drab Council Bluffs --- not a tribal chief in sight --- to have breakfast in Omaha and do some Lewis-and-Clarking before launching our own journey up the Missouri. A friend had advised us not to miss La Buvette, a French bistro in Omaha's Old Market, but its  doors didn't open till 11 a.m., so for breakfast, we settled for muffins and coffee at Wheatfields, benefiting from the outdoor seating to keep Miss Dora in our company.

At the Overland Trading Company in the Old Market, Kate acquired her first "trip present," a cozy, bright blue cardigan that promised to be a true friend in the weeks ahead. 

After a few false starts, such as ending up in a city park featuring a  placid walking trail and a bayou of the Missouri, we found the actual visitor center at the Lewis and Clark National Historic Site Headquarters, a mile or so upriver from Omaha. Though Dora weren't welcome inside, one of us could happily visit the museum/library/gift shop while our excluded pet kept the other amused outside with a leash-led tour via meandering paths, of rock garden plantings of prairie flora: grasses, small trees, and flowers. Soaring over the gardens is a breathtaking footbridge that spans the river. If the sun in non-shaded areas hadn't been so fierce, and the steps up to the bridge had been less imposing, and the timing of the first museum-goer's return had been better known, we might have scaled the the stairs and crossed the river. 

We'd built up an appetite by window (and real) shopping in the Old Market and steeping ourselves in L&C lore. But now it was time to head back to the Old Market, to the very French La Buvette for a very French lunch. Surrounded by couples out for lunch, girls playing chess, and even the occasional tourist, we pinched ourselves as a reminder that we really were in Omaha.  

The drive north -- back on the Iowa side of the river --  into South Dakota, was lovely: all farm fields, hay bales, grazing cattle, and those huge grain elevators, the cathedrals of the plains, feeding hungry clusters of giant silos at every farm and rail stop.

Sioux Falls is a modern city but how can the very name not get your traveling feet itching for more? And, there, at the swoop of the falls, right next to the Interstate, you pass the huge burial mound and memorial honoring the first and only crew member of the Corps of Discovery to succumb during the entire voyage, a victim of appendicitis, it's believed.

By late afternoon, we were on the outskirts of Mitchell, South Dakota, not our destination for the day, but definitely a Lorelei, seducing us with regularly placed billboards promoting a visit to the historic city and the Corn Palace. What could this be? And, wait: why were we so hungry -- again? Nothing to be done but to follow those signs, skipping the Arby's and their ilk, and head into "Historic Mitchell" to find this Corn Palace of which the bilboard angels spoke. 

The Corn Palace, as you'll see, is not hard to find. We parked in its shadow, marveled at its incredibleness and held out against the urge to become paying visitors. Instead we took our own little tour of  Main Street and promptly returned to a restaurant next to the Palace, a sports bar called the Scoreboard, with outdoor dining and a warm welcome for dogs. The meal was wonderful, and our server/barmaid totally delightful. Location dictated a steak dinner, and, reverting to restaurant critic mode here:  the sirloin ($9.99) was lean, medium rare, as requested, and juicy -- without a doubt the best steak ever eaten. The fries were top notch, as was the beer. Thank you, mid-West profond: we feel very welcome here.