Day 36 - Crossing Montana

We're starting to feel like the old horse headed for the barn - a bit more focused, a bit more hurried. But not hurried enough to stick to the interstate. 

We headed northwest out of Billings on Highway 3, then west on Highway 12 along the Musselshell River. This is cattle country - easily a thousand head along the way, contentedly munching their way toward the meat locker one bite at a time. All but one. A bright-eyed young Angus was leaning against the fence along the highway, watching us from one horizon to the other. Maybe this was just a case of greener grass on the other side, or maybe she yearned for the open road. The little towns along the way celebrated their ranching heritage. The Ryegate Bar and Grill had a large notice about the Testical (sic) Festival, held the second Saturday every June. We missed it by only 10 days - a sure sign of God's care for us.

Historical markers along the way noted the native heritage of this country. A poignant description of the movement of Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce from their homeland in Idaho toward Canada ended with the crossing the Musselshell River and surrender to the U.S. Army after the fateful Battle of the Bear's Paw.

Even in our headlong rush toward home, we were still open for surprises. We hadn't planned to travel Highway 12, and it wasn't until we started that we realized this would be through Doig country. Before we knew it we drifted into White Sulphur Springs. I remember this same road when Carol and I drove it a few years ago. We drove down Main Street right past Red Ants Pants.

The Stockmen's Bar on Main Street is where young Ivan sat at the end of the bar drinking Orange Crush and listening to the language of the ranchmen and sheepherders alongside his dad, Charlie Doig. As we drove out of town, we looked at those hills that would have been so familiar to Ivan and his family. There were still patches of snow there and you could easily see how a freak snowstorm would ruin a man's chances. This brought to mind Ivan's phrase "here was I turned" and he became the writer we love.

Helena followed White Sulfur Springs and soon after Helena, we noticed that the rivers were running west. We had crossed the Continental Divide and were officially on the downhill pull toward home. 

We pulled into Goldsmith's Riverfront Inn in Missoula for the night - a pretty building that used to be part of the University of Montana. The description mentioned walks along the beach of the Clark Fork in front of the Inn, but the freshet was on and the beach was flooded. The next morning, the river had risen noticeably, so it was time to go.

Today's mileage: 337. No new license plates; where are you Delaware and Maine?

Lots of Ivan's books would be appropriate as we cross Montana, but we like Last Bus to Wisdom, as Donny and his new friend Herman the German traipse across the same country we have. Fortunately for us, their adventures made a better story than ours.

Time to listen to Old Paint, a song that celebrates Montana. We like Linda Ronstadt's version but could not find a live rendition. Just sit back and listen to her incredible voice as she sings 'she's going to Montana to throw a houlihan'.

Linda Ronstadt-1977-10-Old Paint - YouTube