Pembina Gorge,ND

Lately, rain has been the theme every day. It seems to follow me wherever I go. Leaving Fargo, I headed north, stopping along the way for food, gas, and of course photos. The skies were gray again, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me from exploring. I wanted to hike in the Pembina Gorge.

Warsaw and the Unexpected Cathedral

As I came off the interstate, I rolled into Warsaw, North Dakota—a tiny town with only a handful of buildings. Out of nowhere, a massive cathedral rose up from the middle of the prairie. Its twin spires stretched 140 feet into the sky, visible for miles above the flat farmland.

I pulled over at a distance to take a photo and then drove up for a closer look. A priest was just getting into his car. He waved and told me the church was closed for now. Curious, I looked it up later and learned that St. Stanislaus Catholic Church is known for its Bavarian-inspired architecture. It has 31 stained glass windows and a three-tiered grand altar. Standing in front of it, I couldn’t get over the contrast—this enormous, ornate cathedral surrounded by endless fields of corn and wheat. It felt both out of place and perfectly at home on the prairie.

Gingras Trading Pose

On my way to Walhalla, I stopped at the Gingras Trading Post, requiring me to drive two miles on dirt roads to get to the buildings in the middle of some fields. This historic site preserves the 1840s trading post and home of Antoine Blanc Gingras, a Métis (people of mixed Indigenous and European ancestry) fur trader, legislator, and businessman whose influence stretched across the Red River Valley. The two structures are among the oldest surviving buildings in North Dakota and offer a rare glimpse into the fur trade era. Built in the French Canadian style known locally as “Red River construction,” the logs were joined with mortise-and-tenon joints rather than the more common American dovetail technique. The two-story trading post still shows its exposed oak logs, while the house was covered in clapboard siding shortly after construction to present a more polished look. By the time the State Historical Society acquired the property in 1971, both buildings were in poor condition, but archaeological work showed enough original materials remained to allow for a careful restoration—right down to the paint colors.

The significance of the Gingras site goes beyond its architecture. Gingras was a central figure in the commercial and political life of the northern borderlands, and his business ventures reshaped regional trade routes. By shifting commerce away from the Hudson’s Bay Company’s northern path through Winnipeg to a southern path through Saint Paul, Gingras helped channel tariff revenues into the United States and strengthened its economic and political hold on the border region. Today, the Gingras Trading Post is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It stands not just as a pair of log buildings in the middle of prairie fields, but as a marker of how the fur trade and one determined Métis entrepreneur shaped the future of this region.

Walhalla and the Walla Theater

My route continued toward Walhalla, ND, a town that boasted of having “a historic theater” and a small downtown area. Along the way, I stopped to photograph whatever caught my eye.

It didn’t take long to find the Walla Theater. Built in 1950, it closed in the 1980s and sat abandoned for decades before being revived in 2019 as a live music venue. The marquee still carried its vintage charm, and it was easy to imagine kids lining up here for movies on Saturday nights. I snapped a photo through a door window that gave me an interesting shot of the interior. Across the street, a repurposed Mobile gas station stood as well, weathered and clearly past its prime.

Walhalla itself was smaller than I expected. I never found the downtown, just a Dollar General and a scattering of small shops and businesses spread out across the streets.

Tetrault State Forest Lookout Point

On my way out of town, I saw a sign for an overlook and turned down a dirt road. After a mile or so, I reached Tetrault State Forest Lookout Point. A short walk brought me to the edge of the ridge where the Pembina River wound its way through the valley below.

The view was partially hidden by fog rising from the valley, softening the outlines of the trees and making the river appear and disappear in long curves. Even muted by mist, the scene was beautiful. I stayed a while, taking photos and letting the quiet sink in.

Pembina Gorge and the Red Truck

From there, I headed to Pembina Gorge State Recreation Area just outside Walhalla. This area was formed about 8,000 years ago when Lake Agassiz drained to the south). My plan was to hike one of the four-mile trails through the forested hills. By the time I pulled into the trailhead, the sky had darkened and a light drizzle was falling.

There was a man leaning against the rail near a bright red pickup truck that looked fairly new. He seemed to just be waiting, not hiking, not walking—just standing there. I got out of the van a few times, ready to start my hike, but each time I did the sky opened up and the rain came harder. I sat back down and waited. This dance went on for nearly an hour until I finally gave up. The man with the red truck kept getting out and leaning on the fence post when the rain stopped. I couldn’t help but imagine stories about him. Was he waiting for someone? Passing time? Or just enjoying the rain in his own way?

Returning to the Lookout

By now, I knew I wasn’t going to hike, so I drove back to the Tetrault State Forest Lookout Point and decided to camp there for the night. As I left the recreation area, the rain began to clear, and sure enough, the guy in the red truck was once again leaning against the railing.

I stopped to take a lot of photos of the surrounding hills. The late-summer flowers added splashes of color, the trees filled in the edges with deep green, and the roads twisted through it all, creating patterns that seemed to weave the whole landscape together.

At the lookout, I searched for a level spot away from the main pull-off. Just before dark, a handful of vehicles came and went. Each group stayed only long enough to snap a quick photo of the view before driving off. When they were gone, I had the place to myself. I parked overlooking the Pembina River and the valley below, watching as fog moved in again, softening the edges of everything.

Closing the Day

This wasn’t the day I had planned. I never got the hike in, and the rain kept me guessing from one moment to the next. But it was still a day worth remembering—a cathedral on the prairie, a vintage theater, foggy valleys, and a mysterious man in a red truck. Not the itinerary I set out with, but a story all its own.