The Two Thousand Mile Sunday Drive--Day Five

The Scobey United Methodist Church
Scobey, Montana

Away out here they have a name for rain and wind and fire.
The rain is Tess, the fire's Joe and they call the wind Mariah.

Mariah blows the stars around and sets the clouds a-flyin'.
Mariah makes the mountains sound like folks was out there dyin'.

--Lyrics by Alan Jaye Lerner, Music by Frederick Loewe

To see and hear Harve Presnell sing They Call The Wind Mariah, click here.

This is the day I filled in my county map for Montana--that is, there are fifty-six counties in Montana, and by the time we parked the truck for the night, I could say that I've now visited all fifty-six. Admittedly, the last time I was in Prairie County I was seven or eight years old, but I've been in all the rest as an adult.

After a mediocre breakfast in the Beach North Dakota truck stop where we'd parked for the night, we headed west on I-94 into Montana and Wibaux County. For those of you who don't speak French, Wibaux is pronounced Wee-bow. When I was a child, and I don't remember the exact year but sometime between being six and ten, my father served as interim pastor of the Wibaux Methodist Church. I don't remember how many times we made the 500 mile round trip, but we'd leave Billings, drive 250 miles or so to Wibaux, dad would preach, then we'd drive back to Billings. And in those days, we didn't have I-94 connecting the two communities. It was US 10 back in those days, and you drove through every tiny town along the way. This trip, when we stopped in Wibaux for me to shoot the Court House, I had to find the church as well. Fortunately, it was just on the corner, less than a block away from the modern (1950s) building serving as the county's administrative center. The church is a much older building, and looks exactly like I'd expect a rural Methodist church to look. Wibaux County, by the way, is number 52 on Montana license plates.

Wibaux United Methodist Church
Taken 10/7/09 in Wibaux, Montana

Leaving Wibaux, we drove west on I-94 to Glendive, seat of Dawson County (number 16 on Montana license plates). Glendive is also the home of Dawson Community College, one of three non-tribal community colleges in the state. We quickly found the Court House, which I shot, then were back on the road. I tried to get Kevin to continue west to Terry, seat of Prairie County, then north to Circle (McCone County--numbers 45 and 41, respectively), but he insisted that would take us way too far out of the way to get anywhere closer to home by nightfall. Instead he headed the beast north on Montana Highway 16, parallelling the Yellowstone River, until we crossed into Richland County (number 27).

Kevin is a fourth generation Montanan, and while his mother's family is from the Bitterroot Valley south of Missoula, his father was born in Savage--a small town on the Yellowstone, near the North Dakota state line and the first town you come to in Richland County. I believe Kevin still has family in Savage, but we didn't stop to look for relatives. Instead, we continued north on 16 to Sidney, Richland's County Seat.

Looking East toward the Yellowstone River and North Dakota
Who says Eastern Montana is flat?
Taken from Montana Highway 16 in Richland County

Sidney is a prosperous looking town, quite in keeping with the county's name, and indeed the 80s and 90s were good to the area. Petroleum prospecting put a lot of money in the pockets of citizens and government alike, but when the prospecting ended, so did the money flow. We drove by a huge new construction site--the future home of the Richland County Judicial Center--read "county jail," but when we stopped for gas, the station owner told us that last year's gas prices pretty much put him out of business. The remote location and small business volume meant that regular was over $5.00 a gallon, which in turn meant that the good folk of Richland County parked their pickup trucks and stayed home. Gas had now come down in price, below $3.00, but still the highest we'd seen on the road, and since we were getting only seven miles per gallon, we were seeing a lot of gas pumps.

North of Sidney we crossed into Roosevelt County, a long, slim county on the north bank of the Missouri River and home of the Fort Peck Indian Reservation (home to various bands of the Assiniboine and Sioux nations). We were bound north, however, and soon crossed into Sheridan County (number 34), Montana's northeastern corner.

Passing the towns of Culbertson, Froid (both in Roosevelt County), Medicine Lake and Antelope, we arrived in Plentywood, the County Seat in time to get some good shots of the extremely official looking Sheridan County Court House, and then let the kids out for a walk and potty break. Plentywood was also a good spot to stop for lunch, and we ended up at a mom and pop burger place where our waitress was overjoyed to tell us all about her trip to hear some country singer. I know I should remember just which one gave the concert she loved, but frankly, they all look (and sound) alike to me. Maybe Kevin can tell you if you're interested.

The next county west of Sheridan is Daniels County, a place that has some personal importance to me. When my father was recruited to come west back in 1946, the first church he was offered was the Methodist Church in Scobey, Montana. My parents had never been west of Columbus, Ohio, and so they asked about Scobey. When told it was out on the northern plains, near both the Canadian and North Dakota borders, they asked if there was anywhere else available. As it turned out, Stevensville in the Bitterroot Valley was also open, and my parents jumped at Stevensville. I'll always wonder what my life would have been like had only Scobey been open.

Daniels County (number 37) seems much more rural and much poorer than its eastern neighbor--although neither county could be considered rich or urban. Scobey just presents an air of genteel poverty that we didn't see in Plentywood. The Court House is the kind of white-clapboard construction I would have expected to find almost everywhere in Montana, had I not started out on my 56 Court House project.

As the sign says, it's the "Daniels County Court House."
Taken in Scobey, Montana

OK, this really looks like the Old West to me. I was surprised not to see cowboys riding horses down Main Street. Oh and by the way, the Methodist Church is just around the corner. I love the Bitterroot Valley and my land west of Stevensville. It's always felt like my hometown. My parents were good at making most places they lived feel like home, but I just cannot imagine either of them happy in Scobey. But then, I spent at most an hour in the town--and I have to admit I was prejudiced against it from the start. It's the place I was not born, not conceived. The place my parents said "No" to back before I was born.

Leaving Scobey, we drove almost due south until we crossed into the Fort Peck Reservation then back into Roosevelt County (number 17). When we reached US Highway 2, we turned west and drove into Wolf Point, the Seat of Roosevelt County. I was beginning to catch on to Kevin's trick for finding court houses -- look for the radio antennae -- and we had no trouble finding this government building. I was shocked at the amount of fire damage we saw around town--and judging by the yellow tape we saw, I'd guess that we were looking at arson scenes. Then again, it could just be a symptom of poverty, alcohol abuse, and bad luck. Who's to say. The Court House was well-kept, however, and the grounds were green and well tended.

Roosevelt County Court House
Note the Antenna on the right side of the building
Taken in Wolf Point, Montana

Back on Highway 2, we continued west into Valley County (number 20) where I shot the Court House in the County Seat of Glasgow (Go Scotties!) then further west into Phillips County (number 11) where we parked the beast in an RV park in the County Seat of Malta. The park had wireless internet service, and I was able to get some work done there, but I was playing catch up and didn't succeed in getting everything done. That's why, two months later, you're just reading about our day fighting the wind in the northeastern corner of Montana.

On Day 6, we completed our circle and got home safely--just in time for record cold temperatures and snow. But I'll write about that some other time.

At the top of the page, for the record, is what the Scobey United Methodist Church looks like today. Back in 1946, it was a parish to itself. These days it's yoked to two other churches, the United Methodist Churches in Plentywood and Redstone--a small town halfway between Scobey and Plentywood. Yoked means that the three churches are served by one minister who splits his (or in this case, her) time between the three.

One last note--the wind never stopped blowing. You can get a taste of the weather we experienced by looking at the sky in each of the five photos.

The Two Thousand Mile Sunday Drive--Day Four

Look at that face -
Just look at it,
Look at that fabulous face of yours.
I knew first look I took at it,
This was the face that the world adores.

Look at those eyes -
As wise and as deep as the sea.
Look at that nose -
It shows what a nose should be.

--Leslie Bricusse & Anthony Newley

To hear Barbara Streisand sing a portion of "Look at that Face," click here.

After breakfast at the Hotel, we loaded up the kids and headed east on I-90 toward Rapid City. Rapid City calls itself the Presidential City and has statues of various US presidents on almost every downtown corner. Of course this is based on its proximity to Mount Rushmore. A brief visit to Best Buy allowed me to buy a charger for my Nikon's battery (with adaptable plates to accept virtually every battery Nikon has ever put in a digital camera). We didn't spend any extra time visiting the city, however, as we really wanted to get to Rushmore. The news report on the previous evening had noted that because of the storms we had driven through, the monument was closed to the public on Monday. Tuesday's sky was bright and clear without a single cloud visible, so we were hoping that we'd be able to see the carved granite up close and personal.

There is so much traffic between Rapid City and Rushmore, that most of the way is a divided four-lane road. The last few miles, however, are two lane leading to a parking area where we had to pay $10 to park the beast. Our Golden Eagle pass was no help as there is no admission fee, per se, just a fee to park in a privately owned facility. Of course we really didn't need to park and walk. The mountain and its carving is visible for quite a ways. But the newly constructed viewing area was interesting in its own right--not only for the fact that the approach to the mountain has been changed. If you look at my photo of the faces, you'll see Washington looking straight out at us, while the other three are at an angle. The view used by the state of South Dakota, however, is more what I remember from previous trips to Rushmore. Washington is facing at an angle and Roosevelt and Jefferson are more "head on." I guess it's just another example of nothing being permanent but change.

Taken 10/6/09 at Mount Rushmore, South Dakota

After a respectful amount of time out in the cold air, we climbed back in the truck and drove on through the Black Hills, up hill and down, past lots of different tourist traps, as my father would have called them. At Pactola Lake, we stopped to let the critters do their business, and once again, Major got away from us. While I tried to head him off, dragging three other dogs with me, Kevin ran after him and was soon able to grab him.

Lake Pactola, South Dakota
Taken 10/6/09

Back in the truck, we drove on to Deadwood, which, while having many interesting historical buildings, looks nothing like the town in the tv show. While Kevin dropped some money on a blackjack table at Cadillac Jack's Casino, I walked around town getting a few photos.

From Deadwood we headed back to Spearfish, this time driving north on US 85 to Belle Fourche where we stopped for lunch. I told Kevin not to have any dessert, as there were great milkshakes waiting for us at Crow Buttes. I did ask our waitress if the general store at that particular wide spot in the road still served shakes, but she didn't know what I was talking about. She must not ever drive north from Belle Fourche because right at the north end of town was a billboard advertising the Crow Buttes Mercantile.

Belle Fourche (pronounced Foosh, btw), is the eastern end of a cattle trail out of southern Montana. The story of the area was told in a 1972 John Wayne movie, The Cowboys, as Kevin and our restaurant menu told me. It is also the town closest to the geographical center of the United States--a place I visited two years ago.

A little less than an hour north of town, we crossed the county line from Butte to Harding County and stopped at Crow Buttes. I'm pleased to note that the great milkshake I had two years ago on the 6,000 Mile Sunday Drive was replicated on this trip. The store, its gas pumps, rv hookup sites and living quarters are for sale, should any of you wish to buy a job out in the middle of nowhere.

The Crow Buttes (and US Highway 85)
Harding County, South Dakota
Taken 10/6/09

Crow Buttes is the site of a tragic event in native american history. A sign erected by the Butte County Historical Society tells of a battle in 1822 between the Sioux and the Crow. The Sioux attacked a Crow Camp, and when the Crow men fled to the hills to gain a better vantage point, the Sioux raped the Crow women. The Crow men, having no water, died of thirst on the hills which the Sioux had encircled. Karma being what it is, the Sioux attackers died of a fever they contracted from the Crow. Truly a no-win situation.

Harding County is the northwestern most county in South Dakota and we soon passed into Bowman County, North Dakota. North of Bowman, we drove through Slope County--home of both the highest point in North Dakota (at 3600 feet it's just 400 feet higher than the valley floor where we live in Montana) and the smallest county seat in the nation. Amidon has an official population of 26 and the largest building in this village is, indeed, the Court House.

OK, It's not the Devil's Tower, but perhaps his bunion?
Taken 10/6/09 in Slope County North Dakota

We hit I-94 just west of Dickinson, and started our trip back to Montana stopping for the night at mile 1, Beach North Dakota, where, true to his vocation, Kevin parked the Beast between several larger rigs at the Flying J truck stop. We've now spent four days on the road and have stayed overnight in four different states. Tomorrow we're back in Montana. Stay tuned.

The Two Thousand Mile Sunday Drive--Day Three

The Big Horn County Court House
Taken 10/5/09 in Basin, Wyoming

Monday Monday, can't trust that day,
Monday Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way
Oh Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be
Oh Monday Monday, how yould cou leave and not take me.

--John Phillips

To hear the Mamas and the Papas sing "Monday, Monday," click here.

First, a disclaimer. None of the pictures I'm sharing today will ever win any awards. They're here just to show you what kind of weather we had.

Just as Saturday and Sunday, Monday got off to a late start. Not because we loved camping in the WalMart parking lot, heaven forfend. As I noted at the end of Day Two's blog, the snow really began coming down. Every time we got out to let the dogs out, there was no evidence that we'd been out earlier--our tracks were completely filled in.

As we exercised the dogs one last time before taking to the road, Major, our newest, got free from his lead and took off. I should mention that the reason we have Major in the first place is that a friend found him running loose in an industrial parking lot and scooped him up--leaving him with us until his true owners could be located. That was several months ago now, and we consider Major our dog. But he does like to run and once he starts, he just has to go. He will not come when called. We had just about decided that Cody would be his new home, when we caught sight of him by a coffee shop across the highway from WalMart. By this time, he was very happy to get back in the truck.

We had asked several people what would be the best route from Cody to Gillette. Neither of us had driven these roads before, although as a child I'd ridden many times as my father drove from Cody to Powell and back to the Billings area. There were three options for our east bound journey: US 14 through Sheridan, US 16 through Buffalo, and there were two ways to get to Buffalo--to Greybull and then along the Bighorn River or through Meeteetse. Both roads meet at Worland, then US 16 continues east.

No one had a good answer for us, although most counseled that given the weather, the road to Sheridan would be difficult. No one told us that Powder River Pass on US 16 is almost 10,000 feet.

Ever on the quest to capture court houses, I prevailed on Kevin to try the Greybull to Worland route. The snow continued to fall intermittently as we headed east, but it was calm in Greybull when we stopped to ask where the Bighorn County Court House could be found. The man we asked answered that the court house was another eight miles down the road in the next town, Basin. Greybull was not the county seat.

The previous evening, I had captured the Park County (Wyoming) Court House, a much more stately edifice than the Park County (Montana) complex. And on Monday I was able to get the Bighorn County (Wyoming) Court House and the Washakie County Court House as well. I also shot this rose on the grounds of the Washakie County C.H. in Worland. I'm sure it wasn't quite ready for winter either.

Rose on the grounds of the Washakie County Court House
Taken 10/5/09 in Worland, Wyoming

East of Worland lies the oddly named town of Ten Sleep. I have heard of Ten Sleep for many years, but I'd never been through the town, nor had I any clue about the origin of its name. For a moment I pondered if it might be from some pioneer Dutch family, but no, apparently it refers to the route the Sioux took from the Platte River to southern Montana, and Ten Sleep was ten nights north of the Platte. Immediately after leaving Ten Sleep, the road began to climb, and we passed a sign saying that if the lights were flashing, the road would be closed seven miles ahead.

The lights were not flashing, so we drove on, passing numerous signs warning of impending road closure--but the lights were never flashing. Actually, we passed so many such signs all the way across Wyoming that we decided closed highways were a regular part of Wyoming life.

Scenery (such as it was) east of Ten Sleep, Wyoming
Taken 10/5/09

I have no idea how many miles we drove from Ten Sleep through what has to be some absolutely stunning scenery. Unfortunately, the snow was falling so thick and fast that we could barely see any of it. We will have to return sometime when the weather is more clement. What I do know is that the road continued to climb before us. We drove so long climbing the steep grade, that I began to doubt the existence of a summit or pass. We would just climb forever. And though it certainly felt that way, eventually we did reach Powder River Pass (9,666 feet), having climbed over 5,000 feet from Ten Sleep. From here it was all downhill.

I'd like to say the weather got better, but that would be a lie. I remain grateful for Kevin's skill and patience. I would have been in a panic trying to get our heavy rig up and over in those conditions. When we finally reached the bottom of the pass and drove into Buffalo, we found a city almost paralyzed by the snow. Broken tree limbs were everywhere, and the McDonalds, where we stopped to eat after not being able to get gas at Cenex ("Sorry, our pumps aren't working.") was not able to accept credit or debit cards. The heavy snow had played havoc with the computer connections around the town. For some undoubtedly unrelated reason, the ice cream machine wasn't working either.

Kevin's view of the road, US Highway 16
Taken 10/5/09 in Central Wyoming

At Douglas we picked up Interstate 90 again, and continued east toward Gillette, Sundance, and eventually Rapid City South Dakota. We continued to pass signs warning that the road could be closed, but it wasn't. Kevin drove through snow, drizzle and low clouds, but he continued on bravely through the weather. At Moorcroft, we left I-90 for US 14 headed toward Devil's Tower. I've never been near enough to the monument to actually see it, and I kept wondering if Richard Dreyfus would suddenly appear on his way to a close encounter. What can I say, the Tower is impressive, rising vertically from the rather level ground around it. Unfortunately, it was impressive but only half visible. We have to do this trip during good weather sometime.

Back to I-90 at Sundance, on past Beulah with its signs warning that this was our last chance to get low-priced Wyoming gas, and cross the border into South Dakota. Should you ever take this route, be forewarned. Gas in South Dakota is at least twenty cents less than gas in Wyoming. Also a word of warning--the price shown on signs in South Dakota is for Plus or mid grade, not regular. Regular is usually about ten cents a gallon more than Plus. As it turns out, Plus is 10% ethanol, and the good people of South Dakota want to make sure that their corn farmers are adequately employed.

Kevin insisted that tonight we would stay in a motel--good thing since none of the campgrounds we tried were open. Super 8 in Spearfish gladly took us, our four dogs and our money, and gave us a room with two beds, a shower, a hot breakfast the next day and a hot tub--well the latter was not in our room. We had to run to K-Mart and get end of season close-out swim trunks at 2.99 each. Running the dogs around the hotel in the middle of the night was the only reason to get out of bed. We both slept well.

To be continued....

Devil's Tower
Pretty impressive even under these conditions
Taken 10/5/09

The Two Thousand Mile Sunday Drive--Day Two

The Yellowstone River at Gardner Montana
North Entrance to Yellowstone National Park
Taken 10/4/09

Well, there are worse things
Than staring at the water on a Sunday
There are worse things
Than staring at the water
As you're posing for a picture
Being painted by your lover
In the middle of the summer
On an island in the river on a Sunday

--Stephen Sondheim

To hear Jenna Russell sing "Sunday in the Park with George," click here.

Well, there are worse things than driving by the water on a Sunday when you're riding in a truck being driven by your lover in the surprising early winter on a highway by the river on a Sunday. We got a late start out of Bozeman because Kevin had to repair the camper's toilet. We'd bought the parts as we were leaving Missoula, but wanted to get on the road, so it was good we camped out at a rest area Saturday night. Sunday morning meant that we had to get the toilet fixed, and Kevin fixed it. But by the time we were ready to roll, it was ten a.m.

And we weren't really ready to roll, as I had forgotten to pack the battery charger for my camera. Modern cameras don't, as I'm sure you're aware, use any old Duracell battery you can pick up at WalMart or Costco. There was a Staples near us and there had to be a Best Buy nearby as well, didn't there? We headed first to Staples where they could not help us. What about Best Buy? There isn't one in Bozeman. Ah--but there is F 11, arguably the best camera store in the state of Montana. We'll head over there.

Oh, it's Sunday. OK, I'll try to hold out for Rapid City--the next "large" town we'll visit. In the meantime, let's shoot the Gallatin County Court House and get on the road for Livingston.

Livingston is not only the seat of Park County, but also Kevin's home town. Crossing Bozeman Pass, the snow began to fall. This is not unusual on Bozeman Pass--I've been caught in blizzards there in June. Our weather was not that bad, just an unseasonably early winter storm. Kevin pointed out the hills where his family ran cattle. He mentioned the names of all the folk who had owned property between the pass and Livingston back in the 60s. He showed me the farm where he grew up.

In Livingston we drove around in circles looking for the Court House. For some reason it's not downtown, but in an otherwise residential district. Eventually, with the help of a woman just getting out of church, we found the "City-County Complex." Like other places around the state, Livingston and Park County have combined their forces in a single building--unfortunately a rather modern, non-descript building at that. I won't share the pictures I took of it here.

Before getting back on the road, Kevin filled the truck's tank, topping us off after driving 48 miles from the last fill, and I headed over to Albertson's for some provisions to fill the camper. That done, we headed south on US 89, the Montana Centennial Highway which runs north/south between Glacier National Park and Yellowstone. We were headed for Gardner, Montana, the North Entrance to Yellowstone.

Devil's Slide on the Yellowstone River
Park County, Montana
Taken 10/4/09

Along the way we drove through the Paradise Valley, known as home to various celebrities including Peter Fonda. Jimmy Buffett spent a lot of time in this region, and has written and sung lots of songs celebrating, if that's the word, Livingston, including "Livingston Saturday Night."

This is also the region where I spent a lot of time as a child at Luccock Park, the Methodist Church Camp in the valley, and it's where we got our first Miniature Pinscher, Dinah--the dog I grew up with. I tried to point this out to the kids, but they seemed supremely uninterested, even when I told them that none of them would be in my life if it weren't for Dinah.

One final note on the Paradise Valley. This was the home to a large cult called The Church Universal and Triumphant, run by Elizabeth Clare Prophet. The link will take you to the Wikipedia entry on that group. It seemed to me appropriate that in the same general area is a large, red, rock slide called "The Devil's Slide." I made sure to photograph it.

Once past the town of Gardner, we drove through the Roosevelt Arch and entered Yellowstone National Park. One of my favorite locations in the Park is Mammoth Hot Springs. We stopped and took some pictures, while Kevin commented on the smell. Yes, there is a definite odor of sulphur in the air. It reminds me that when John Coulter, the first caucasian to visit the area returned to "civilization" and reported on what he'd seen, his friends referred to the region as "Coulter's Hell."

Bison grazing along the road
Taken 10/4/09 in Yellowstone National Park

Snow continued to fall as we drove south. Some roads in the park were closed because of construction, and some due to snow and ice, but we were able to drive from Mammoth to Norris, Norris to Canyon, Canyon to Fishing Bridge, and then out of the Park through the East Entrance into Wyoming. Along the way we did not see much in the way of wildlife, except for a couple of herds of bison and a few big horn sheep. We did see a surprising number of tourists considering that we were all braving the elements and road closures to drive through the Park. I reconfirmed my suspicion that Kevin had not grown up visiting the Park, the way I did, and he assured me that this was probably the third time he had ever been in Yellowstone, and the first time he'd actually stopped to see the sights. I just can't fathom that.

Lower Falls of the Yellowstone River
Taken 10/4/09 at Artists' Point

Another of my favorite spots in the Park is the view point for the lower falls on the Yellowstone River. My father took some wonderful shots of this feature, and I keep trying to keep up with him. This trip we took the drive up the South Rim to Artist's Point where I got some good work done, if I do say so myself.

At Fishing Bridge, we turned east and headed toward Cody, Wyoming. We drove through miles of forest land burned a few years back and not doing particularly well at reforestation. Up and over Sylvan Pass, we drove down alongside one of the tributaries to the Shosone River. Most of the Park is within the limits of the state of Wyoming, with only small portions in Montana and Idaho. Of the five entrances to the Park, however, three are in Montana. We had entered at the North and were leaving by the East. Another fifty miles of beautiful scenery and we arrived in Cody, the nominal home of Buffalo Bill. After a fine dinner at a Mexican Restaurant named La Comida, we parked the beast at (Don't gasp now) Wal-Mart, and became one more of those RV'ing families who drive from Wal-Mart to Wal-Mart.

One fork of the Shoshone River, Fall Colors
Taken 10/4/09 in Yellowstone National Park

The snow was coming down in earnest now, and a reader board we had seen at Walgreen's warned of a Winter Storm through the next morning. We hunkered down and rode it out.

More to come.

The Two Thousand Mile Sunday Drive--Day One

On the road again
Just can't wait to get on the road again
The life I love is makin' music with my friends
And I can't wait to get on the road again
On the road again
Goin' places that I've never been
Seein' things that I may never see again,
And I can't wait to get on the road again.

---Willie Nelson

To hear Willie Nelson sing "On the Road Again," click here.

Powell County Montana Court House

Taken 10/3/09 in Deer Lodge, Montana

It's four o’clock Sunday morning, the fourth of October. I’m wide awake, and the camper is pitching like a small boat at sea. That tells me it’s time to share my adventures with you, my faithful public. Oh, but there’s no internet connection available to me here in this rest area on the west side of Bozeman Montana. Well then, I’ll write it up and get it on line when I can, even if that means a week from now. So how did I come to find myself in this odd situation? Sit back, relax, and I’ll share the story with you.

Around the middle of August, when it became apparent that we were not going to have a summer vacation, Kevin started telling me “You have to take the first two weeks of October off.” I replied that with our office hosting a conference the third week of September, another one the very end of that same month, and a third the third week in October, there was absolutely no way I could take two weeks off when he wanted me to. Then I started getting sick.

I’ve been prone to attacks of vertigo and nausea in the past—many, many years ago, but I hadn’t noticed any problem in that area for at least thirty-five years. When I woke one Wednesday in early September unable to comfortably navigate my way downstairs, I assumed from the symptoms, that I had contracted a variety of flu. It’s all the rage these days, and our local paper was reporting on the number of people who were missing school or calling in sick to work because of it. When the symptoms didn’t clear up after a week, I called my doctor who assured me that the change he had just ordered in my medication (Metformin to get my blood sugar levels down) could, indeed, cause similar symptoms. He cut me back to my previous level and the symptoms disappeared.

By now it was conference time and we were all going full-tilt boogie trying to keep on top of the daily office work while chauffeuring conference speakers from their hotel to campus, to the various dinners we had arranged for them, and to and from the airport. Oh, and did I mention we were trying to attend the conference sessions as well? The symptoms returned.

Now I’m no fool. I can recognize the affects of stress as well as the next guy. I told Kevin I’d ask for the first week in October, but there was no way I could take two. That would only add to my stress as I’d be thinking of all that wasn’t getting done while I was out “relaxing.” And so Friday, October 2^nd, as I turned the van in after spending another week chauffeuring conference speakers around, I told Kevin “That’s it. I’m all yours.” And we hit the road.

Well, it wasn’t quite that easy. First we had Friday dinner with our good friends Mike and Norm. We do this just about every Friday. Then we noticed that the refrigerator/freezer in the camper wasn’t working. When you opened the door, you didn’t get a blast of cold air but rather a face full of ammonia. Not pleasant at all, and not a good prospect for storing food. A call to Gull Boats and RV, the authorized Lance camper dealer in Missoula, taught us that the unit had died and would have to be replaced. That would take at least $1500 and a week’s time. “But we’re leaving tomorrow,” I cried. Oh well, that’s why we have ice chests.

Neither Kevin nor I slept well Friday night, but upon arising Saturday morning, we were ready to drive. Almost. We had filled the camper’s water tanks when we thought we’d be getting out earlier in the summer, but that water had sat, unused, for months. Kevin felt it best to drain the tanks and refill them. Fine by me. Also, the 80+ degree temperatures we’d had all of September had left us with the advent of October, and we were now looking at snow on the mountains and night-time temperatures in the thirties. Good thing we have a furnace in the camper.

While Kevin ran some last minute errands, I started packing the clothing and food we’d want to take. The symptoms returned. Kevin got home to find me lying down, attempting to control the vertigo. Some clothing packed, but not all, and no food. Kevin finished the packing, having asked me if we should cancel the trip. My response was “NO WAY!” He then refilled the water tanks, opened the camper’s bathroom door, and found that he’d flooded the bathroom. Apparently the water connection to the toilet had broken. Turning up the thermostat to check on the furnace operations proved to be futile as the furnace just wouldn’t kick on. All righty then. Still the show must go on, so before we could leave town, we pointed the truck in the direction of Gull Boats to get the parts needed to fix both the toilet and the furnace.

At this point, you’re probably asking “Why on earth are you so intent on leaving town?” Good question, and one I hope to answer over the next week. For now, a bit of history.

A little over twenty years ago, standing in front of the Judith Basin County Court House in Stanford, Montana, I was struck with how stately a building the very few people of that county had erected to hold their local government. As I drove around the state, I kept being impressed by the various county court houses I found in Montana. A plan came to mind. I’d do a coffee table photo album showcasing the fifty-six Montana court houses—a section on each of the state’s counties. The statehood centennial was approaching in 1989, and I figured this would be a great centennial project. But having neither the time nor the money to undertake the project, it sat, undone, in the back of my mind. As I’d drive the state’s highways, I’d stop to photograph any courthouse I saw, but I never made it to all fifty-six counties.

As my long-time readers will recall, in 2007 I took my “Six Thousand Mile Sunday Drive,” documenting that adventure in words and photographs—including several photos of government buildings. I even managed to pick up a few out-of-the way Montana court houses. Recently I put several of my court house photos up on my sales site at RedBubble and was encouraged to continue the project. When Kevin suggested a week off, I thought, “Great, I’ll capture more courthouses.”

Kevin had recently confided in me that his childhood was quite different from my own. He lived for many years right on the northern border of Yellowstone National Park, and never visited that scenic wonder. My parents, on the other hand, took every visitor they could drag along into the park. Kevin had also never seen Mount Rushmore, or the Dakota Badlands. Maybe we could combine objectives, and take a shorter version of my 2007 trip—a “Two Thousand Mile Sunday Drive.” And that’s why we’re on the road today.

Gull Boats either did not have the parts we needed or the clerk in the parts department was ill-informed, I don’t know which, but while the four dogs and I waited somewhat patiently in the pickup cab, Kevin spent twenty-five minutes inside not getting any satisfaction. We drove on to Bretz RV and Marine, where we should have gone in the first place, and he returned in no time, parts in hand. By the time we filled both propane bottles for the camper, we were finally ready to get on Interstate 90 and head east. Except by now it’s past two o’clock and we haven’t had lunch. One more stop at the truck stop east of Missoula for Arby’s, and by three we were finally “on the road again.”

Within ten miles it was clear that we were driving into the wind. The gusts made it hard to control the truck, and while it pitched and rolled, Kevin fought valiantly to keep it within the white lines on the pavement. After about an hour of this, I asked if we were, indeed, fools to undertake such a trip given the prospect of wintry weather and high winds. Kevin replied “Probably,” and kept driving. As Interstate 90 turned south at Garrison Junction, our winds became trailing, pushing the rather large box down the highway at a good clip. Alas, only a small portion of our route involves southbound travel.

In Deer Lodge, the first town of any size east of Missoula, we stopped at Les Schwab and had the “Ride-Right”s pumped up. This is a system of airbags I added to the pickup when I purchased the Lance camper. It helps the springs support the additional weight and gives a much smoother ride. When we pulled in, the system was holding 35 pounds pressure. We left with 50.

Just two blocks from the tire store sits the Powell County Court House, one that I hadn’t previously captured. While I shot the court house, Kevin walked the dogs. Soon we were back on I-90, and the ride was considerably smoother. The wind was still at our back and we wasted no time getting to Anaconda, the seat of Deer Lodge County. (No, you’re not confused—the city of Deer Lodge is the seat of Powell County. Anaconda is the seat of Deer Lodge County. Don’t they do things like that in your state?)

Anaconda Smoke Stack State Park

Taken 10/3/09 in Anaconda Montana

Anaconda is known for several things. It has a world-class golf course designed by Jack Nicklaus. It has a state park that no one is allowed to visit (the smoke stack from the now demolished smelter that the Anaconda Company used to process all the ore taken out from beneath neighboring Butte). It also has miles and miles of slag heaps, built up over a hundred years of mining operations in Butte. And it has a number of stately buildings dating from the early twentieth century. One of those is the court house. In the late nineteenth century, one of Montana’s major political battles took place when Anaconda fought Helena for the role of state capitol. Anaconda, the city, lost the battle, but until 1972 and the new Montana State Constitution, Anaconda, the company, ran the state. The Deer Lodge County Court House looks like the people of the city wanted to erect a new capitol building. I find it an amazing structure, and was pleased to be able to add it to my photographic captures.

Deer Lodge County Court House

Taken 10/3/09 in Anaconda Montana

Heading east from Anaconda to Butte, we were again buffeted by the winds, but with the increased air pressure in the Ride-Rights, the truck handled itself in good fashion. I did begin worrying about what this was doing to our gas mileage. Under the best of conditions, the F250, heavy duty, long bed, four wheel drive pickup doesn’t get stellar mileage. Add a 3,000 pound box, rising over ten feet from the ground, and the food, water, clothing etc for two men and four dogs, and you’re putting a lot of resistance into the wind. Still, I was counting on nine miles per gallon.

The Silver Bow County Court House is imposing as befits the governmental seat of a community that housed one quarter of the state’s population at the time of its construction. I knew exactly where to find the building as it sits kitty-cornered from the church my father served when I was five years old.

The Silver Bow County Court House

Taken 10/3/09 in Butte, Montana

We crossed the Continental Divide at Homestake Pass east of Butte, and found ourselves moving with the big boys (that is 35-40 miles per hour) up the Cardston Grade a bit further east, but soon we were down in the Gallatin Valley at Three Forks where the Madison, the Jefferson and the Gallatin Rivers all come together to form the Missouri. From there it was just a hop, skip and jump to Belgrade (Montana, not Serbia) where we stopped for dinner at the Flying J. You see, when you travel with a trucker, you end up eating in truck stops. Nothing on the menu looked good to me—I just spent the last week high on the hog with an international group of experts on the Middle East. We ate at some of the finest restaurants in Missoula, and I’d had steak in one form or another for four of the previous five days. The steaks on the Flying J menu just did not appeal—nor did anything else. I ordered breakfast. Kevin had a flatiron steak which came with two sides. He asked for a baked potato and “thousand island.” The waitress, a blond to be sure, looked so shocked that I feared he would get a bottle of dressing but no salad. My corned beef hash and eggs also came with two sides, and I requested an English muffin and a serving of cottage cheese. When our meals came, we decided simultaneously that we wouldn’t ever bother stopping at this particular Flying J again. When Kevin asked for jelly for my English Muffin (there was none on the table), the waitress said “Chili?” Poor dear, she didn’t deserve it, but we gave her 20% anyway.

By now it was too dark to do any further photography, and Kevin was too tired to do any further driving, so he pulled into the new rest area on the west end of Bozeman, parked the pickup into the wind, and we went to bed—at eight thirty. Which is why I’m sitting here, wide awake, at 5:19 am, while the truck rocks and rolls with the wind.

And by the way, we fed the truck at the Flying J as well. We had driven 217 miles and used 28.6 gallons of gas. You can do the math yourselves, if you wish, but that’s not nine miles per gallon—closer to 7.5.

About to be carried off to Oz (I said it was windy)
Taken 10/4/09 in Bozeman Montana