Good Morning Montana
Riding into the day, we headed west on route 200 along the Clark Fork River. Clear, green, wide and calm, it ran with us, guiding through grassland and then mountains towering on either side. We glided through small towns whose names described their geography : Plains, Thompson Falls, Trout Creek and Paradise.
A perfect picnic table appeared, under a tree, next to the river. We turned in and unloaded. But, oh no! As soon as I started to open food, we were swarmed by bees. Being braver than I, Jules packed up the bag as I moved away, swatting at my head.
Bees!
Unbelievably unscathed we raced away, buzzing still in my ears. Our encounter with the yellow jackets was all for the best because we found another spot, so tranquil it lulled us into an extended break from the road. A few kids swam off the dock and a skier rooster-tailed by, and those were the only distant sounds that echoed in the golden noon. Near the water, a soppy memorial with a poem about lasting love brought tears to our eyes as we held each other.
We pulled ourselves away from this Arcadian dream, and ran up 200, through the Kootenai Forest. Branching off on Bull Lake Road, we sought to repeat last year's experience by visiting BJ's Halfway House and possibly renting the same mountain home. But the real motivation was the pizza.
It was like we had never left BJ's. Tammy still worked behind the bar and immediately gave us a list of numbers to call for rentals. Unfortunately, the house from our previous stay wasn't available, but there was a cabin "up the road" that might be available. While waiting for a return call from the owner, the same locals that were so memorable pulled into the bar, and remembered us. I guess they don't get many New Jersey people our here.
A hand crafted trike by Bob, a friend from last year.
It became apparent that the phones weren't working, so Jules decided that he should go find the owner of the cabin, James Brown, at his house. I stayed behind, because the road up the mountain might not sustain two on a motorcycle (or one for that matter - I was a little concerned about Jules).
So he left me in the bar to do some hill climbing and I drank a Montana staple, red beer ( Coors and Clamato Juice ) for the first time in my life. Not bad.
While waiting, I picked up the newspaper on the bar. The "Montanian" comes out every Wednesday, and bar patrons stared at me curiously as I laughed aloud while reading the Lincoln County Sheriff's Office Complaint Reports. Just a few:
1:30 PM "A man on California and Lincoln Blvd says someone loosened his lug nuts, causing his tire to fall off. He'd appreciate people not messing with his nuts in the future."
7:59 PM " Rossauers nabbed two juvenile female shoplifters who probably thought they were really cool."
9:49 PM "Deer vs. vehicle on Hwy. Deer is still alive. Vehicle is not."
Mountain journalism at its best!
I talked to a few locals about the area's economy ( it's poor) and the winters ( not as bad as they used to be). Nervously watching the door, I was relieved to see Jules return from his trip up the mountain. No cabin to rent, but great stories. He rode up a gravel, then dirt road to the owner's house - a mountain cabin complete with dogs and collections of various other kinds of junk. A wooly mountain man came out of the cabin and proclaimed, "My name is James Brown and I feel good!" Then he proceeded to tell Jules his whole health history. Come to find out, he only helped build the cabin - did not own it. So Jules followed him to the real owner's house, further up the mountain. A dirt road with grass growing between the two tracks and a 2 plank bridge finally got Jules and Magic there, all to no avail. The cabin, which according to Jules would have been perfect, was already rented, but the hospitality and helpfulness of these two strangers made the trip worthwhile.
My name is James Brown and I feel good!
So carefully he rode down the mountain and came back to the bar to tell me his stories over the main reason we were here - the pizza. In the past year, the subject of BJ's pizza has come up numerous times, and although, not the only reason for this trip, it was definitely high up on the list!
Jules' mountain friends wanted to make sure he had a cabin for the night, so they called around and we are in nearby Troy, where the high school team is inexplicably called The Trojans. We are sleeping in a cabin, not quite as far in the mountains as the other, but easily accessible. Our neighbor is the resident woodcarver and his chainsaws are on the porch along with various chunks of wood, etc. I try very hard to block it all as I go to sleep, but images of Freddy keep lurking in the shadows of my imagination.
Part of the joy of travelling is the variety of people you meet on the road. In Montana, we have found one thing to be true: if you need help, there will be many strangers willing to pitch in as if they have known you their whole lives. Lives so different from ours, but colorful in their own ways, write the story of this country.
Momma and baby along Clark Fork
Montana sky, Montana barn
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