I drive into Montana – Big Sky country.
My first stop is Miles City where I caffeinate for the long drive ahead. Miles City a is still fast asleep on a Sunday morning, but I find a diner/restaurant where I get my coffee, and an entire coffeepot so that I can refill my own cup – the waitresses are busy preparing for what I suspect will be a busy lunch time. I can hear lots of chatter and laughter from the kitchen, but in the restaurant, where the walls are lined with stuffed deer heads, sits an elderly gentleman with a huge breakfast before him, and I.
My next stop is the Pictograph Cave State Park, south east of Billings – there is a short walk up to the caves where you can see wall art that is over 2,000 years old. It’s nice enough and you don’t need to allocate more than 45 min to walk the loop, look at the pictographs and take plenty of rests in the shade. There are several other historic sites and parks to visit around Billings – Custer Battlefield is high on tourists’ lists.
In the car park, noticing my Ontario licence plate, an elderly couple stop to chat to me – they’ve been to Canada and think it is spectacular, of course. As the man starts recounting his adventures, his wife rolls her eyes and retreats to a bench in the shade – now I know for sure I’m going to be here a while, in the hot sun, standing next to my hot car that is enveloped in its own heat wave. However, the man is a laugh – he is native to New York City who spends half his time lounging in Florida. His character, manner of speech and gestures are very much like those of Woody Allen – I suspect they are about the same age, too. He and his wife are retired teachers, and finding out that I teach, he sets off on his life story and career in teaching. He makes jokes, gives me a lot of advice, including advice on how to find a rich husband – advice that worked for his daughter! He takes my map and marks the places I should visit in Wyoming – I’ll be driving through there on my way back.
I camp in Billings, Montana’s biggest city. Note – Billings is closed on Sundays. Some of the brew pubs are open, so I stroll in to hide from the heat and sample some of their brews. There is a short strip of road lined with cafes that’s open, but other than that the city is deserted. It seems like it would be a great city to meander around and people watch, but not on a Sunday. I’ll have to come back during a weekday.
The storm that was thundering over Billings never made it to the campsite, and I sleep undisturbed, waking up and packing my site by 6am. It’s early, but the day is meant to be a hot one, in the mid 90’s (F) and I want to get a head start before the sun starts beating down. Already, my left arm is a dirty shade of brown from all the sun it gets when I drive – I am starting to look a lot like the guys on their Harley’s – bandana wearing, sunglass brandishing, and bearing arms that are burned from being out in the open sun as they ride the open roads. So, I pack up and leave early. A Google search tells me that there’s an excellent diner offering breakfasts. I note the address and hit the road.
People on the internet highly rate Western Cafe in Bozeman, and it is the perfect 2 hour drive that I needed to get my stomach to crave breakfast. And that’s how I stumble on Bozeman, Montana. As I drive in to the city, I already know I’m going to love the place.
So, Bozeman here I am, and I’m in love.
The town is nestled in a valley, surrounded by mountains. Main Street boasts no name brands, only little boutiques, restaurants, pubs and coffeehouses that are unique to the town (I think…) The houses on either side of Main St are old, reminding one of the houses in New England, but less like mansions. Bogart’s Park has paths that take you above town for an excellent view of the greenery surround the town, the town and its mountainous backdrop. It’s the perfect town for a stroll, and it seems like a comfortable town to live in. The town also has a well stocked independent bookshop with friendly and knowledgable staff – Country Bookshelf. I now own a copy of A. J Guthrie Jr’s The Big Sky and can’t wait to start reading.
On my walk in Bogart’s Park, I meet someone who is taking a scenic photo in the same place as me. We chuckle about our ‘good tastes’ in scenery. This man has been coming to Bozeman for the summer, from Florida, for the past ten years. It’s his favourite place.
In the library, where I always find clean public restrooms, I stumble on a shelf full of magazines just outside the library entrance. A lady sifting through them herself tells me that people and the librarians, come and leave magazines here and anyone can come in, sift through, and take them to read. She is returning a few magazines she’d already read, and as we chat we notice two boxes full of magazines left in a corner – we decide they must have come from an office waiting room. We take them out, display them on the shelves, and take what strikes our fancy – lots of Scientific American, Smithsonian and cooking magazines – perfect reading material that will also aid in starting a fire.
Western Cafe delivers. As you walk in from the bright sun, your eyes have to adjust to the change in light – the diner’s walls are wood-panelled, full of memorabilia and people, so at first it seems dim. With diners at every seat and the tables overflowing with food, the place looks cramped, but it’s not really; it’s comfortable, and feels like being in someone’s dining room kitchen. The place is busy for breakfast (I arrived at 9,30am just after the morning rush), full of chatter and clinking utensils as people mopped up the food on their plates. I sit at the bar and am promptly served, called ‘dear,’ ‘sweetheart’ and other terms of endearment. My coffee cup is always more than half full, no matter how much I drink, and my vegetable omelette with homemade hash browns gives me the perfect amount of energy.
A local comes in, says hello to all the waitresses whose names he knows, and starts chatting to me. He prefaces many of his sentences about his family with, “5th generation engineer and 4th generation builder,” tells me that no one in Bozeman wants to vote for either Clinton or Trump (the waitress came over to confirm) and alerts me to the fact that Canada will soon be getting an influx of fleeing Americans. He is good to show me, on a map, a few places I should visit while in town, and the waitress gives me a loyalty punch card for the Cafe, forcing me to make my way back here, which I will more than gladly do.
…and then I arrive in Butte, Montana, the opposite of Bozeman. If someone is looking for a location to shoot a post-apocalyptic film, this is the perfect location. The town is interesting and full of mining history – it feels like you are walking through a film set. Once a rich and bustling, the part of town I meander in (south) seems to be dying, looking and feeling very much like a ghost town. Boarded up buildings. Abandoned houses with caved in roofs and broken windows. Faded advertisements. Empty. No one was out walking, and the few people that were around were driving their beat up, rusty and wonky cars. I was the only walker, and I guess this was strange because on my way back to the campground a couple stopped their Buick (this wasn’t a wonky car) and called out, “Miss!? Do you need a ride somewhere? You’re just walking and we’re happy to give you a lift if you’re headed our way.” Made me smile. I was about 300 feet from the campground and declined their offer. If I had accepted, I would not have written lest my mother reads the post and yells at me. It would be much nicer if we could trust each other and think the best of people. I don’t think these people were going to torture and murder me, or steal my camera. They were probably genuinely surprised to see me walking in the seemingly abandoned part of town on such a hot day.
The town used to be a hub for mining in Montana, having a mountain rich in copper and iron ore. There are several mines, and but the biggest spectacle is the Berkley Pit – Elevation 5,610 feet/ 1,705 meters. Mining in the pit stopped in 1982, the water pumps shut off and so the quarry is filled with water that is slowly rising. The water is acidic (much like vinegar), and full of copper, iron, magnesium and even arsenic. Apparently there are living organisms in the water that feed off of the iron – pretty cool.
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