Enchanted Highway

I stayed again at the National Prairie Boondocking area outside Theodore Roosevelt National Park. I arrived later than the night before and most spots were already taken. I had to drive a few miles up steep hills with no guardrails to reach an open plateau with a 360-degree view of the park and prairie. The sun was setting and campers were already in their chairs watching the show. I pulled into a clearing in the middle since the edges were full, about 200 feet from a large rig. The owner came out and yelled, “Why do you need to park so close?” I’d only been trying to avoid tall grass, but I just moved another hundred feet away without arguing.

Then I promptly locked my keys in the van. Fortunately, I keep a spare hidden outside and it was right where it should be. As I worked to get in, Mr. Happy wandered over and asked if everything was okay. I ignored him, unlocked the door, and opened the side facing the sunset. Dinner and a little blogging with that view made up for the hassle.

This morning, around 7 a.m., while most people were still asleep, Mr. Happy fired up his generator. Now I knew why he wanted space around his rig. By 7:30, avoiding the noise, I had the van packed and rolled out toward the Visitor Center. At the gate, the attendant greeted me warmly, wished me a good stay, and reminded me the Center wouldn’t open until 8.

I parked at one end of the lot and made breakfast with the side door open, watching the morning unfold. It felt like being a modern-day anthropologist—listening to families debate plans, kids bursting with excitement, and a few who clearly weren’t into the National Park vibe.

I hung out in the parking lot, writing, planning my day, and checking out the bookstore. I noticed they had David McCullough’s Mornings On Horseback, the story of the Roosevelt family and the life and times of Theodore Roosevelt. McCullough is probably one of my favorite writers and in my opinion a master at bringing history to life. I’ve read several of his books: The Johnstown Flood (certainly my favorite), 1776, and John Adams.

As I was sitting there, I noticed someone coming from the van beside me and walking around the front of the van looking at the roof rack. I came out and said hello and he had a couple of questions about the lights. His name was Tom, he was a musician (musicals as in Phantom of the Opera), from L.A., living in Minnesota and traveling in a van with a piano. He seemed interested in the van, so I gave him a tour. We talked about all things vanlife, various issues with vans, and music. He was very interesting to talk to.

The Enchanted Highway

Today was about visiting the Enchanted Highway. The stretch of road between Regent and Dickinson is lined with giant scrap-metal sculptures, the vision of local artist Gary Greff. Back in the late 1980s, Regent was on the verge of disappearing as farms consolidated and young people left for bigger towns. Greff, a former school principal with no formal art training, decided to fight back by building something so unusual that people would have to pull off I-94 and visit. The first piece, Geese in Flight, went up in 1991, and over time more followed—massive grasshoppers, pheasants, a tin family—each one rising out of farmland like a roadside wonder.

At first, the idea was met with skepticism, and even some local politics about land use and funding caused friction, but eventually the project became a point of pride. Today the Enchanted Highway draws thousands of visitors every year, giving Regent and surrounding communities a small but steady boost in tourism dollars, keeping businesses alive and the town on the map. It’s a quirky success story of how one person’s persistence and creativity transformed a fading region into a destination.

I drove the backroads to Regent about 90 minutes from the National Park. There were several times when I had to just stop and take in the scenery around me—big open fields, deep blue skies, white clouds, and not a soul to be seen except me.

I entered Regent from the south. A very small town, surrounded by wheat fields. I stopped to take a photo of the tank in front of the American Legion. I thought of other tanks I’d seen on my travels and this one looked in very good shape with very little rust. Across the street was the remains of a souvenir shop.

Down the street I saw two people coming out of a store with ice cream in hand. I couldn’t pass it up. This was a gift shop that had embraced the whole Enchanted Highway vibe and sold t-shirts, jewelry, and other things tourists think they need. Surprisingly, they didn’t have information on the sculptures and local history. I thought, what a wasted opportunity. The woman told me how to get to the first sculpture. I’d passed it on my way into town. A single scoop of caramel ice cream on a cone in hand, I stepped out to begin my tour, which I understand I did backwards from most.

Sir Albert and the Dragon

The newest addition to the Enchanted Highway stands at the southern end of Regent beside the Enchanted Castle. The 41-foot knight faces off against a massive dragon that stretches nearly 100 feet from nose to tail, both made of scrap oil tanks, pipe, and chain link that give the dragon its scaly look. Construction began in 2016 and by 2023 the figures were standing tall, with a formal unveiling taking place this summer (2025). I read that the sculpture is “in progress,” but to me it looks complete. Apparently, the only part still to come may be the planned special effects of fire and smoke (not sure how that will work). The piece is significant not only as a dramatic gateway into Regent but also as a reminder of the community support that made it possible, including local farmer Albert Dobitz, for whom the knight is named. Unlike some of the earlier Highway works, land access here wasn’t a sticking point since it sits on the grounds of the Enchanted Castle, tying the art directly to Regent’s own hotel and restaurant.

Regent’s Enchanted Castle

Gary Greff opened the Enchanted Castle in Regent back in 2012, converting the old high school into a medieval-themed hotel, steakhouse, and tavern. Walking through, you see the drawbridge entrance and armor-clad knights in the hallways—it definitely has the theme nailed down. But honestly, I wasn’t impressed with what I saw. The idea is fun, but for me the lodging and dining didn’t really deliver. It’s a good reminder that theming alone doesn’t always add up to a great experience.

Tin Family

The first sculpture Greff completed, in 1991, featuring a mom (44–45 ft tall), dad (similar height), and child (23 ft), crafted from oil drums, telephone poles, barbed wire, and the like. Neighbors assisted on this project—some collaboration there—but Greff often worked solo on later projects due to his perfectionist approach.

Teddy Rides Again

Constructed in 1993, this tribute to President Theodore Roosevelt is a large contour sculpture that includes Teddy on horseback and a small stagecoach with wooden horses. Materials used include well pipe and scrap; placement seems smoother given the regional reverence for Teddy Roosevelt.

Pheasants on the Prairie

Completed in 1996 (some sources say '96–'97), this scene features a giant rooster (40 ft tall and 70 ft long), hen (35 ft tall), and chicks (about 20 ft long), constructed from wire mesh and farm equipment. The weight is significant. Greff appears to have coordinated placements cooperatively with land owners.

Fisherman’s Dream

This is one of the most intricate sculptures, completed around 2006. It features a 70-ft-tall rainbow trout leaping from water, surrounded by multiple fish species and a fishing boat, all rendered in three-dimensional scrap metal. It’s situated with parking and picnic space. Farm land was donated for these installations. This is probably my favorite just because of the the size and colors.

Grasshoppers in the Field

Installed in 1999, this playful scene includes a giant grasshopper (about 40 ft tall and 50 ft long) among smaller ones, accompanied by towering wheat stalks. The surrounding land is agricultural, and Greff sourced most of the scrap metal from local oil field materials.

Lefor Bank

In the village of Lefor, I spotted a metal arch marking the “Remnants of the Lefor State Bank,” which is really just a concrete vault standing alone where the bank once operated. The place opened in 1913 and shut down in 1934 when the Depression wiped out plenty of little prairie banks. Lefor was never a big town—maybe a few hundred farmers and families used the bank—but for two decades it handled the loans, deposits, and crop checks that kept the community moving. At one point this was a financial lifeline for a small patch of North Dakota.

The Deer Family

A striking two-dimensional silhouette of a buck leaping over a fence with a doe trailing. Erected in 2002, the buck towers about 75 ft tall; the doe is about 50 ft. This stop includes parking and picnic facilities. Across the street is an old windmill which I sat and photographed with trucks and cars passing by. On the grounds, there’s also a maze which would be fun for kids.

Geese in Flight

It’s a monumental display of geese flying across a sunburst—standing approximately 110 ft tall and 154 ft wide. Completed in 2001, it’s recognized by Guinness World Records as the world’s largest scrap-metal sculpture. It’s visible directly from I-94 at exit 72 and features a pull-out with a kiosk and picnic area. Land access wasn’t a major issue here, as it sits atop a hill near the interstate.

This last installation sits right off I-94 and gives you a different perspective on the region. Cars and trucks roar past at 80 miles an hour, farms stretch out on both sides with fields in full swing, and long trains carry products from here down the line to processing plants. If you look closely, you can even spot small villages tucked into the landscape. After twelve days in North Dakota, it was an interesting way to take it all in.

I stopped at Walmart for groceries and thought I might stay the night, but the lot was full of “No Overnight Parking” signs. A few miles away I found North Park RV and Campground. It was after hours, but when I called the number out front, the woman who answered was friendly and accommodating. I told her I didn’t need hookups, just an open spot for Starlink, gave her my card, and headed to the site. The spaces were tight, but the facilities were nice—and the showers were a bonus.

I had a simple meal, dropped into bed and pulled out my new book. I made it through the introduction before I drifted off.