"I am in love with Montana. For other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection, but with Montana it is love."
Rich, a good friend from back home will be at the airport by midday, which gives me seven hours to drive there and get to know Montana a little bit in the interim. And my first observation was this: Some states seemed bucolic, others lonely or desolate, while still others just seemed like they were left behind by civilization. Montana's existence as a seemingly empty but gorgeous place seems to be by choice. There are just the right number of dilapidated barns to make it picturesque rather than rundown. There are few farmhouses, but enough so that it doesn't look lonely. It feels like a different world.
And if ever there was a perfect add for drugs, it was here: a lonely brick building with no windows, a door that wouldn't open, a creepy graffiti endeavor, and nothing else around. Life after meth, indeed.
More driving...
After hours of train tracks, lakes, trees, all the rest that makes Montana Montana, I picked up my friend and we stopped for a bite at the Blue Moon Grill and Casino (and dance hall). (I don't know how it all works out here, but there are Grill/Casinos every hundred yards, some of which are the branch, Cat's Paw. It was days between seeing my first Cat's Paw and realizing they weren't pet stores, but bar/casino hangouts for the Keno-hungry and Budweiser-thirsty.) ANYWAY, the Blue Moon... taxidermy, track lighting, neon lights, Wi-Fi (of course), dirty rice ("a little dirt never hurt anyone"), and an overall aesthetic that perfectly combines a sauna with what I imagine Jeremiah Johnson's living room looked like.
Knowing full well bears would be an issue, we stopped to pick up a can of reasonably priced bear mace, fetching between $50 and $70 at the local markets. I was pleased to learn that a bear must be within 30 feet before spraying. Pace out 30 feet, imagine a grizzly bear being that close (and maybe running towards you) and pulling together the nerve to pull out your bear spray and aim for the eyes. (I also enjoyed the warning on the spray that advises you not to spray it on yourself like mosquito repellant, as that won't do anything to prevent bear attacks.)
With bear fear in high gear, we set up our modest tent and met our camp site host family. They live in Glacier all summer and help other campers with everything from extra blankets to suggestions for hiking and spending time otherwise in the park. She did nothing to ease the thought of bear attacks, instead opting to tell us about her bear encounter earlier that day. "We were hiking not too far from here and we came upon a pretty big fella. We just stopped, spoke out to him, 'Hey Grizz, we're just going to keep on moving along. We don't want to bother you, etc.'" This went on while we sat with our backs to the trees, and I continued to tell myself that if I thought about getting attacked all the time, chances are it wouldn't happen. Anyway, after 30 minutes of her pointing at a map and making suggestions (and I'll admit I listened to none of it, knowing full well that my OCD companion was committing her words to memory), I used a "burn-the-whole-bag" sack of charcoal (improperly - read the instructions next time) and nearly set us both on fire, after which we burned a few hot dogs, and called it a night. More interesting photos tomorrow, but for now, enjoy these...
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