Heading East and Reflecting
It was later than I wanted it to be.
My destination for the night was the Kempton Hotel in Terry, Montana. The oldest continiously operated hotel in the state, the Kempton is a throwback to the old hotels of the past. Painted white with green trim and two stories high, it is easy to find the place. Most rooms share a common bathroom. Unless they are occupied the doors to the rooms are open. You go find yours, settle in and lock it if the Roy Rogers is still open across the street to get something to eat.
Kempton Hotel Terry, Montana
Expedia was telling me the place was booked, which seemed odd since in mid-October, the tourist season is done and typically the Kempton has hunters staying there. In moments like this it is best to put technology aside and call. The owner answered and said he had rooms available and would hold one in my name with a bathroom. No need for a deposit, in this part of Montana your word means something, and people trust you - I said I would be there in just over an hour. He warned me to take my time, with deer season in full swing, they were moving around and at night liked to come up to the roadways.
With white knuckles on the steering wheel for the remainder of the trip I made it. Significant stretches of interstate passed by me where I couldn’t see headlights ahead of me or behind me. But when I passed a truck or they passed me, I observed they had grill guards. Mine didn’t have one.
Terry, Montana gets up early on a workday. Ranching and energy are the primary ways to make a living and when I pulled into the town’s only convenience store at 6:45 am, those going to work were grabbing coffee or fueling up with gas to start the day. The same for me, fill up the truck, grab some coffee and buy a packaged muffin. The hardest decision of the morning was whether to buy the blueberry, cranberry or chocolate chip muffin. The blueberry was a good choice, I opened it up as I turned east on I-94 headed to North Dakota.
Leaving Bozeman yesterday it was beautiful, sunny and 74 degrees. I said hello and then goodbye to the woman who will be renting our place for the winter. She is in her mid-twenties experiencing the west – in short, living out her dream. Numerous others have crossed my path, doing the same, coming to the west for the open spaces, outdoors, and opportunities. Most are in their early to late 20’s and the romanticism of the west is in them. They come with everything they own in their truck or car to begin their venture – both to find work and experience the dream. At times, I sense they are also escaping. It could be divorce, a death, or wanting to get away from the familiar. Their dream is anchored in reality and their presence is a new start. Many have come west has to get a new start.
The woman watching over our place was the same as the others, to seek opportunity and live the experience. She worked the summer in Wyoming at a dude ranch and with the season ending had found a job in Big Sky as they gear up for the ski season. Big Sky is an interesting place. The year-round population is just over 3,600 and over 16,000 people (about the seating capacity of Madison Square Garden) work there daily to keep it running and expanding. Bozeman has become the support city and houses the service people, construction workers and small businesses to sustain it.
September and October are the months to be in the west. The weather cools off, people have returned home to put their kids back in school and smoke season has ended. Cottonwoods leaves change to yellow joining the tall brown grass on the valley floor,
This fall, wetter weather modified our fall hikes and fishing. Water flows and gage heights were looked at daily to see if our usual Hamilton Bridge runs could be fished on the East Gallatin. Normalcy returns once flows drop below 60 cubic feet per second.
Late afternoon to dark are the better times of the day to enter the water as the fish begin to rise. Near dusk the setting sun illuminates the Bridgers to a golden hue making you stop what you are doing and admire the moment.
The day would finish after catching a few fish and putting them back in the water, then pointing the truck east and heading down Springhill Road back to Bozeman. Sarah Jarosz would be playing on Pandora and a few times this fall her song Runaway played. The verse and chorus seemed to blend into the day's experiences.
Come take my hand while I'm waiting here
Get away from it all and find what's real
If we don't get out now the chance won't reappear
We can run away
Lava Lake trail is a doable afternoon hike. You leave the constant noise of traffic from Highway 191 in the Gallatin Gorge to gain 700 feet in elevation. The occasional dog joins you followed by their owner as they come aside and then pass you on your way up the mountain. Streams come and go and at the upper levels you start to enter small high meadows that give you a break of sunlight as grassy areas spread out in front of you.
The lake sits in a high alpine opening with spruce covering the sides of the valley where it spreads out. Time slows down here. You find a weathered tree log to sit down and watch the trout rise and eat. They are numerous and mesmerizing to watch as they create prefect concentric circles as they come to the surface to feast on bugs. They take advantage of the warm day and hatch since they can sense colder weather is coming and ice will start to form on the lake within the month.
Leaving the Lava Lake trailhead is a challenge because of the traffic on Highway 191. The narrowness of the gorge dictates you watch and quickly shoot out onto road when there is a break in traffic. Going north heads you back to Bozeman. If you want to go south you must travel a mile or so north, find the turnout and do the same – wait for a break in the traffic and shoot your way on to 191 south.
Glendive is the last town you pass through when going east to the North Dakota state line. In the early morning, with the glow of the sun on the horizon, the prairie is beautiful. It is stark and dry with small shrubs of sage moving along with you. Groups of Pronghorns are plentiful and always vigilant – for what I am not sure of – as this part of the state is not wolf country. Coyotes are her and bobcats which will pull down an injured Pronghorn.
You enter North Dakota into Theodore Roosevelt National Park, where the prairie mixes with undulating hills filling the landscape. No farming here yet, that comes as you get closer to Bismarck. The grasslands are expansive and seem to not end on the horizon. Creeks meander through the occasional valleys which buffalo frequent for grass and water. Just over 650,000 bison now occupy the west, and the debate is fierce on whether they should roam or be managed like cattle herds. They symbolize the west.
The grasslands also bring solace to those who travel though them. The experience gives you understanding why Roosevelt himself went west to heal himself after the death of his wife and mother on the same day in 1884. Their passing was overwhelming to him. He re-formed himself in day-to-day routines on the praiare, gaining an understanding of the preservation necessary for others to experience the same. Back east with the power of the presidency in his grasp he opened the first national parkknown as Yellowstone.
Row crops such as corn and soybeans now enter the picture as you move towards Bismarck. Fields of sunflower intermingle amongst the other crops. The land flattens and moisture becomes more plentiful. Cattle also appear and the people who make their living ranching. Rural communities become more frequent and dot the landscape culminating in Mandan and the city of Bismarck. The Missouri makes its entrance from the north on its way to the Mississippi River. Images of Lewis and Clark begin to form in one's mind and in particular the winter of 1804, which was cold and fierce. They wintered with the Mandan’s and Hidatsa's socializing with them in their villages and at Fort Mandan. Preparations also took place for them to move on, which they did in April of 1804 headed west.
I have now crossed the Missouri and am back east.