Sleep Comes Like a Drug In God's Country

Day 7: I'm happy to report that I've completely lost track of the days.

I got up earlier than the rest of camp again this morning. I figured I could head out to do some sight seeing and get back before everyone was awake. It was going to be our longest driving day yet (7.5 hours) so it was unlikely that we were going to do any sightseeing. By the time I made up my mind, my daughter was up and agreed to come with me. Cameras in hand, we hopped in the van and drove around Lake McDonald looking for good shots. It became clear very quickly that we weren't going to get to some of the higher elevations before our self-imposed half-hour deadline expired. We were able to get around lake McDonald and part way up McDonald creek before my phone started playing "Black Coffee in Bed" telling us to turn around. Although we didn't get to any elevation, we managed to find stops that allowed us spectacular views of the mountains mirrored in the glassy lake. We passed the small trailer on the way in, a sign that camp was breaking quickly this morning. Indeed, by the time we got back, the contents of the tent were already on the picnic table and I was told that we were supposed to have left 20 minutes ago. When you see the pictures, you'll agree that it was worth it.

We're currently traveling highway 2, what the locals call "The Hi Line." It's so named because the major east west routes running through the state (I-90/I-94) pass far to the south. It's the Montana version of I-5 between the Altamont and the Grapevine. It has nothing but sameness for hundreds of miles. I should have saved the Doris Lessing reference for this part of the journey. There's going to be a whole lot of nothing until we get to Minnesota. At least it's a new kind of nothing for me.

We pulled off to have lunch in the small town of Shelby. Karen the GPS led us to a small park on the edge of town where we broke out the picnic supplies and had sandwiches. Two things struck me as I was sitting in the shade working on my steak sandwich: how far across the plains this wind that was buffeting me might have come and how I could now understand why people might want to leave the place where they grew up for new experiences. As I looked across the park at the beat up Mercury Cougar sitting in front of the single-wide trailer next to the large equipment shed, I wondered what percentage of the local children simply grew up, went into a business supporting this isolated town and simply never left. My simplistic peace of a family taking care itself is apparently very limted in scope.