Some places carry the scent of stories — not just in the air, but in the walls, the soil, the very light that falls across the floor. The Lewis and Clark Boathouse and Museum had that quality, the kind of place that makes your fingers twitch for a book to take home. Maybe it’s the way history settles there, like silt at the bottom of a river — layered, rich, waiting to be stirred up.
The gift shop wasn’t particularly grand — a few shelves, some shirts, trinkets to tempt the kids — but the books held my attention. As I traced the spines, I struck up a conversation with the attendant, who turned out to be a former teacher. There’s always a familiarity to teachers, as if they all speak a certain language — part patience, part enthusiasm — that makes you feel like you’re about to learn something whether you’re ready or not.
Then I found it: The Lewis and Clark Expedition: Day by Day by Gary Moulton. The title alone felt like a commitment — not just a story, but a reckoning with the weight of time itself. Moulton’s work is dense, methodical, and unrelenting in its detail. Each entry unfolds with a precision that mirrors the meticulous notes Clark scrawled along the banks of the Missouri.
Reading Moulton’s book feels like you’re walking alongside the Corps of Discovery. The grand narrative we’re taught in school — of bold explorers forging westward — melts away. What’s left is the everyday grind: sore feet, wet clothes, mosquitoes in the air, and the endless uncertainty of what might be around the next bend. Moulton makes you realize that most of history isn’t made of climactic moments — it’s built on small, tedious steps forward.
I left the museum with the book tucked under my arm, feeling like I’d unearthed something valuable. It wasn’t just the story of Lewis and Clark — it was the slow, deliberate pace of discovery itself. One day at a time, one page at a time — a reminder that some journeys are measured less by the miles they cover and more by the patience required to see them through.