May 30, 2013
“I’m in love with Montana. For
other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection. But
with Montana it is love. And it’s difficult to analyze love when you’re in it .
. .Montana seems to me to be what a small boy would think Texas is like
from hearing Texans. Here for the first time I heard a definite regional accent
unaffected by TV-ese, a slow-paced warm speech. It seemed to me that the
frantic bustle of America was not in Montana. Its people did not seem afraid of
shadows in a John Birch Society sense. The calm of the mountains and the
rolling grasslands had got into the inhabitants. It was hunting season when I
drove through the state. The men I talked to seemed to me not moved to a riot
of seasonal slaughter but simply to be going out to kill edible meat. Again my
attitude may be informed by love, but it seemed to me that the towns were
places to live in rather than nervous hives. People had time to pause in their
occupations to undertake the passing art of neighborliness.”
John Steinbeck “Travels With Charley” 1965
Montana is a big beautiful state. And that’s sort
of my problem with it. It’s too big for more than a glance, no matter how
beautiful.
I’ve travelled through here twice, mostly on
Interstate 90. Heading east to west, the highway starts in the southeast area
of the state and ends at the northwest corner, close to the Canadian border. It
is awesomely long, about 550 miles along the route, taking at least two days of
travel time. And, alas, both times I’ve travelled through here were when I had
to reach a place by a certain day. So I-90 is most of what I’ve seen.
But that isn’t bad. There are incredible views
all along the way and the Rocky Mountains end at the Idaho border and looking
down into the mist and realizing the journey is wonderful.
But today, I drove through a different part of
the state. From Idaho Falls, ID, I went up Interstate 15. My GPS unit kept
wanting me to go on other roads, but knowing where it took me before, I might
have wound up hauling my trailer on narrow mountain roads with harrowing
curves. I didn’t want to deal with it. But finally I gave up and took a local
road. Highway 41. It took me through Jefferson Valley, near the Tobacco Root
Mountains. This was ranch country and one could see that it a quiet place to
work hard. The small towns were devoid of fast food joints and big box stores.
You had to travel perhaps a hundred miles to Bozeman or Billings to see them.
At the same time, the small stores and restaurants were well maintained. It
reminded me of Denville, NJ in the 1950s. It was where I lived then and perhaps
I keep looking for a place like it.
I have grown used to not having a McDonald’s or
Wal-Mart nearby. Most of the places in Oregon where I volunteered didn’t have
them within 20 miles. And this summer I will be in Wall, SD, which offers a
great tourist mecca where I will work, but little else but miles and miles of
the Dakota Badlands.
Like Denville, there are lots of lakes and
streams and signs welcoming people to fish. I thought of Chet Huntley, of the
famed Huntly-Brinkly NBC News team. When Chet retired, he was given a horse to
bring back to his native state. He graduated from the high school of a small
town I passed through and went to college in Bozeman, where I have stayed on my
two trips here.
Chet also wanted people to share his vision of
Montana. He was instrumental in developing Big Sky Resort, a major attraction,
and died a few days before its opening.
I was glad to spend a few hours off the
Interstate system. Tomorrow is a big push into South Dakota, probably for a day
in Grand Rapids before reaching my next destination in the Badlands.
But Wal-Mart was on my list of places to see.
Last year, I purchased a Yellowstone tee shirt for $10 and I hoped to grab a
couple of more for gifts. They also stock this brand of water called Montana’s
Treasure. It is goooooood! I bought a case for myself and a case to bring back
east. But I don’t know if the second case will make it. Anyhow, the tees were
now $7.50 and there is no sales tax. If it wasn’t for the fact that I had just
spent nearly a year in Oregon, which also has no sales tax, I might have dumped
a lot of money there. In a weird bit of déjà vue, I had to go shopping in
Bozeman again. I spotted a beggar and his dog sitting in front of the Wal-Mart
entrance with a sign saying he was marooned and needed help. It was the same person I saw nearly a
year ago. I guess business is good.
Speaking of business, Montana does not charge
sales tax.
I camped
both times at a place called Bear Canyon. This year was in late May,
last year was in late July. The view from here is incredible but this year; the
snow-capped mountains enhance it.
Alas, it was been raining and I hoped to get a photo in the
morning before I moved on to compare them. The rain did stop long enough for a
magnificent sunset, but returned that night and has continued into its third
day, accompanying me as I travelled east along I-90 through Wyoming and into
South Dakota. I am now in South Dakota and it continues to rain for a fourth
day.
En route, a friend of mine asked me to pick up something
possibly unique to the Rockies – bear repellant – and I had difficulties
finding it, hitting about seven retailers. But it was a pleasure because the
people I spoke to are the type you wish you had for your neighbors. And if I
ever pass that way again, I’ll try to discover more of the state so many love.
