My daughter and her family joined me after I had arrived at our AirBNB cabin. It wasn’t long before our host knocked on our door. As he had done at my previous visits, he offered a selection of jackets, sweaters and vests of various sizes for us to use during our stay. He knew that wasn’t my first rodeo (so to speak) and that I was acquainted with the west and the area in which we visited.
As I chatted with him, he told me about some of his former guests. A couple that had come to stay in his little cabin was from the Deep South. One cold and windy summer morning the lady, dressed in a chiffon dress and stilettos, came across the yard to his home. He was quite amused and asked, “You didn’t bring warm clothes did you?” He wasn’t surprised at her answer and promptly went into his house and gathered up sweaters and coats. I’m sure he also suggested that she go to town and get some jeans and proper shoes for her western culture experience.
My style of chiffon & stilettos
Having traveled out west numerous times, I’m familiar with what to pack. My wardrobe includes jeans, a few short and long sleeved pullover shirts, long sleeved button up shirts, a jacket or two or three, socks, shoes, undies, daily necessities, and of course my camera gear and various electronic devices. I also pack something else – stilettos and chiffon. Well, it might be considered Western Stilettos & Chiffon. In my case that is my boots and a flannel shirt. That is high fashion! Sometimes I even top it off with a cowboy hat.
Last year, I finally got Red and the Judge to go with me to a place they had only heard stories about and seen pictures of. It was a mythical mystical place to them. I was so excited to take them up in the mountains to the place where my dad was born. I gave them a few days to acclimatize before taking them into the heart of the mountains. The road getting there was an adventure in itself for these two greenhorns. We drove down the trail with tall grass tickling the underside of our vehicle. The girls gasped when the road disappeared into the creek. They could see the road on the other side and there was only one way to get there. I paused a moment just to build up the excitement then we went on through jumping over the river rocks with water rushing on down the stream. They took turns getting the gates that had to be opened and closed. With windows down, we could smell the mountain grasses, wildflowers and fresh air.
We bounced into the yard of the old home place and hopped out of our four-wheel drive vehicle. I took them on a tour of the remains of the buildings and made them drink from the fountain of youth. Ever since I can remember there has been a steady stream of running water that is fed by a spring up near the cabins and is piped into the old tub horse trough. It is cold, clear and pure spring water. We filled a few containers with that heavenly water.
The weather was iffy and the
clouds threatened cold rain so instead of walking we piled back in the vehicle
and drove up toward the lake. Past the remaining dust from the sawmill, just
over the top of the hill, I stopped for a picture. We jumped out and I took
pictures of the girls. Just as we were
getting back into the vehicle, we saw movement off to the right. There, at the
edge of the woods was a bear’s rump disappearing into the trees. It happened
too quick to get a picture.
Now I need to add a side note here. When Red finally committed to traveling with me to the west and I had already purchased the plane tickets, I let her in on a secret. She had the official job as bear bait. When we saw the bear rump heading into the forest, Red got a bit nervous. I assured her that the bear was long gone and we continued up the road.
We drove as far as we could without tearing out the bottom of the 4-wheel drive, turned around and headed back to the lake. I stopped and we got out for our picnic with one of the grandest views in the entire state of Montana – Gommie’s Lake. You won’t find that name on any of the maps. It got its name from my grandmother who we called Gommie. That was her property in the heart of the mountains and the lake is so named in her honor.
We spread out the quilts, ate our lunch and drank the best water in the world while marveling at the beauty around us. Red and Judge kept looking behind them to make sure we didn’t have a furry visitor. I wandered around and took pictures of the wildflowers, the lake and the mountains. As we prepared to go back to the remains of the old home place, we loaded the picnic items. I was climbing into the driver’s seat when the judge said, “A bear!” Red and I ignored her statement. Again and more emphatically she said, “A bear!!” Again we ignored her. Since we had teased Red the whole trip about being bear bait I thought maybe the judge was pushing it. A third time she said, “I SAID, there’s. a. BEAR!!!” Each word was emphasized with a point of her finger stabbing the air in the direction of a bear. We looked down the bottom of the hill and guess what? It was a bear. About that time the bear stood up on his hind legs, nose lifted in the air so he could smell us. Red was still at the back of the vehicle and just almost jumped in from that direction. She slammed the hatch down as fast as she could and she was in the back seat in a flash. I snapped picture after picture. Never underestimate the speed of bear bait when put to the test! Red moved faster than greased lightning. It was good to know that the bear bait worked. We ended up seeing three bears on that trip.
Maude
and I picked up beautiful Aunt Lynn and headed out on our adventure. It was a gorgeous
morning. Actually it was a perfect Montana morning. Our first stop was the little
town of Martinsdale where we visited the Charles M. Bair Family Museum that
exhibits European and Western art collections. This collection also includes
Indian art of intricate beadwork stitched into clothing and shoes. Shields,
papooses and other items are protected behind glass. Navajo and European rugs
line the walls. Western artists are featured with paintings from eyewitness
accounts while other artists embellish stories on canvas.
Next door, we stepped into the Wild West pioneer home and were ushered into the halls furnished with the splendor of a palace. Who would expect to find a hidden trove of historical treasures and elegance in the middle of Montana? Rare paintings and exquisite dishes, door knobs of pure gold worth $70 grand a piece, Indian history, gifts from King Louis XV and King George III, a gun of Daniel Boone’s and photos of renown people that depict relationships of Bair are just a few items. The history of Bair alone is fascinating.
Just a short distance away we stepped back into the western frontier town of Martinsdale. The little town in the shadow of the Crazy Mountains was once a thriving train stop of the Milwaukee Road. Several abandoned buildings including the Stockman Bank are scattered among the homes of the local residents. There on the main street stands the rustic Crazy Mountain Inn that still offers lodging to weary travelers and those seeking adventures. A brush boot cleaner sits by the door and colorful flowers hang against the weathered boards. The adjoining little restaurant with its relaxed atmosphere has a bar and four tables for its guests. Coffee isn’t sold by the cup but the amount of time you stay. Listed on a board is a whole slate of homemade desserts. It was obvious our waitress was not mastered in the skill of waiting on tables, but her charm and kindness to please covered up any lack of expertise. The cook, who had been standing outside, entered the restaurant with a baby on her hip and began the meal preparation. It was delicious. Soon there were several travelers sitting and enjoying a tasty lunch.
We headed west and then cut off a road that weaves in and out of the Lewis & Clark National Forest. We dodged holes and bumps in the paved road that smoothed out for the most part whenever it turned to dirt and gravel. It led us into a narrow rocky canyon with majestic pinnacles of rock formations on each side of the road. We crossed the South Fork River and started to climb higher into the mountains. Campers were stopped at various random locations within the National Forest. The road took us to scenes of the Little Belts, Castle Mountains and grand views of the white peaked Crazies. Lush alpine meadows dotted with wildflowers waved at us in the breeze, and free range cattle grazed and claimed ownership of the mountain road.
The directions we had were a bit confusing. Just as a word from experience – when you cut off the main highway, stay on the main dirt road and don’t be fooled by signs that could easily be interpreted as the right road. If you follow such roads, you will definitely test your vehicle’s ability as a 4-wheel drive wanna-be when you find foreboding huge rocks and ruts in your path. We found a family camping in a lovely spot by the river to ask directions. I still haven’t figured out how they even got their camper down that road. Dogs tried to tear my legs off when I started to get out of the SUV. A man missing a few teeth walked over and asked where we wanted to go. The tags on our rental said Idaho. He was really confused when we said we were from Georgia. “So why are you out here?” “Because we wanted to take the Judith River Backcountry Drive.” He scratched his head, looked disgusted and directed me to go back and turn at the “main road.” After clarifying what he meant by the “main road,” we climbed back up the rutty rocky hill spitting rocks and kicking up dust while leaving the confused annoyed man muttering under his breath.
View of the Crazy Mountains
We breathed a bit easier knowing we were on the right road through the Judith River Valley. We had gone about 14 more miles and our elevation began to drop. We came over a hill and there in a hairpin turn was a truck with an empty cattle trailer that didn’t quite make the turn. The rear of the trailer was hanging precariously off the side of the mountain. The driver stopped us and asked if we would mind driving back out the way we came (since we obviously couldn’t go forward) and find a forest ranger or someone with a big truck to pull him out. We backtracked and finally got cell service. Maud called the ranger station, and they were zero help. We continued until we came to a campground where someone had a big truck. I pulled up to the camper and three little dirty-faced kids ran over to us. They acted like they had never seen people from the outside world before. One little kid jabbered away, and soon the other two joined in. I asked them to get their mom or dad, but they continued to talk. As I was chatting with them one little kid with spaghetti or something smeared all over his face bent down and said repeatedly, “What happened?” Then I noticed that he was rubbing the top of my toe. Maud started laughing, and I chuckled, “Oh, my toes are just deformed.” He climbed into the driver’s seat of the SUV banging on something with his stick but continued to ask, “What happened?” Finally his mom came out, and I told her the situation down the road. She got the dad, and he gave us a brochure with another number to call. A darker skinned boy with black eyes emerged from the woods. He began chattering as well. The little girl with the three boys was a bit younger, but she wasn’t quite as animated as the boys. Back in the car, we headed back to the real main road. After several miles, we finally got cell service, and Maud made another call. Though the ranger for the Musselshell district was limited as to what he could do, he did promise to pursue the situation.
Satisfied
that we had taken a wrong path in order to be placed in the position to help
the man stranded on the mountain, we went on our way. Maud continued to laugh
at the top of her big voice and say, “What happened?”
Our
road took us to the Sweet Grass Ranch, aka the Brannin Ranch where we shared a
sumptuous meal with the dudes and the Carroccia family. We enjoyed the food,
shared stories and had a memorable visit. That was a great way to end a day of another
adventure with Maud & Me!
If you have been following Grandma’s blog posts or any of her social media posts you may have possibly ran across the name of Maud. Well, that’s me. I am the fluffer of bunnies, the burping master, and the sweetest granddaughter ever. (Grandma may not agree, but the rest of the world does).
Grandma asked me to
be a guest writer on her blog and I was hesitant to say yes, but oh so thrilled
at the same time. I am not going to promise grammatically correct sentences, or
eloquent language, but I hope that after you read this you will appreciate the
many firsts that happen in life. When Grandma asked me to write I nagged her
about what I would write about. I am the type of person who needs a template to
write anything, (thank you school), so when Grandma said to write about
whatever I wanted, my head spinned twenty different ways. But, as I was sitting
on the plane towards Atlanta my mind narrowed its thoughts down to what this
trip was about for me.
My mind came up
with, Firsts. This was my very first trip travelling with just me and Grandma.
This was my very first trip going to Glacier National Park. This was my very
first time in Polebridge, MT and having their cinnamon rolls. This was my very
first time seeing mountain goats. This was my very first time seeing a moose.
This was my very first time travelling down Swingley Road. This was my very
first time meeting Dick Rath and staying at his cabin. This was my very first
time hiking down to the river at Natural Bridge State Park. This was my very
first time going through Bynum, MT, my first time in Choteau, MT, and my very
first time at Madison Buffalo Jump. This was my first time going to eat supper
at the Sweet Grass Ranch and sharing some sweet company with the Carroccias and
the Dringmans. I heard stories about people I had never met and people that I
loved, and some stories were new to me and even to Grandma.
Let me tell you,
these firsts were amazing and absolutely incredible. I am forever thankful to
the lady that brought me here and helped me experience all these firsts. I am
forever thankful for the lady that spent a lot of these firsts by my side.
Maud with her brother and Daddy Buck
But, this was also
my very first time in Montana without Daddy Buck. This was my very first time
without Daveen opening her door and saying, “Oh! Hello! Welcome!” This was my
very first time going to Aunt Barabara’s house and not seeing Uncle Ralph
sitting at the kitchen table ready to answer all of the questions we had for
him. This was my very first time going to look at houses and property for my
grandma and grandpa to possibly live. This trip full of many, “very firsts” was
also very hard. This trip gave me lots of incredible firsts, and also some
tough firsts, but this trip also showed me that my family would not have ended
up where they are now without both good and bad firsts. Stanton and Guadalupe
had to FIRST leave New Mexico to end up in Montana. The uncles had to FIRST
build the ranch before they could run it. Poppy had to FIRST go to Canada
before he ended up in Big Timber, MT. Aunt Barbara had to FIRST invite Jean to
her house for Buck and Jean to meet. Daddy Buck had to FIRST ask Grandma Buck
to marry him before they started their adventure. They both had to leave
Montana for the FIRST time to end up in Georgia. They had to have five kids
FIRST before they had Grandma. Daddy Buck and family would live in Athens, GA FIRST
before they moved to LaFayette, GA. Grandma and Puppa had to meet FIRST before
they had my dad. Mom had to have her FIRST boyfriend before she knew dad was
the one. My parents had Jess FIRST before they had their favorite daughter. I
had to go on my FIRST trip to Montana in 2003 to absolutely fall in love with
the land and the people. I had to ask Grandma FIRST to go on this trip (and she
had to FIRST say yes).
Maud and her brother
The many firsts I
have experienced on this trip have led to a stronger passion and love for The
Last Best Place. I felt like I have grown closer to my family, to the people
who used to live there and live here now, and to my cowgirl Grandma. So, I say
all of this to say, the firsts in your life are important. The best firsts, and
the worst firsts, and all of the in- between firsts lead you to where you are
and where you want to go. Embrace those firsts in the best way that you can,
because those firsts lead to stories told in the car on the way to East
Glacier. Right, Grandma?
Side Note: I think I am now Grandma’s favorite. There’s a FIRST for everything, right? Maud
When
I was a kid, one of my favorite places to stop while traveling across the
country was a rock shop. There was usually just an old building or a rickety
shack that had a hand made sign out front. It seems that the best shops were those
in the middle of nowhere. Oh wait, we were always in the middle of nowhere. Daddy
would pull in and we would hop out of the car. Inside, there were bins and bins
of rocks of all kinds and colors. The more expensive rocks were kept in a glass
case. Some shops had racks of stones made into jewelry. I would turn the racks
slowly and look at the earrings and necklaces. My favorites were those made out
of moss agates. It was hard to choose which rocks and stones I wanted to buy
with the few coins in my pocket but every time I left the rock shop, my little
bag would be full.
There
were times we stopped at a roadside stand where we could “mine” for sapphires,
garnets or other gems. We would buy a bag of dirt that had been taken from a
mine. We were guaranteed to find some kind of gem. Sapphire dirt was more
expensive. Sometimes we could even find Yogo Sapphire dirt. I didn’t have
enough money for that.
When
my kids came along, I wanted them to have the opportunity to experience rock
shops, too. It seems that the wayside rock shops are not as easy to be found
now.
The
other day, Maud and I drove through the little Montana town of Bynum. The
population of Bynum is 37, excluding dogs and dinosaurs. Yes, it is dinosaur
country. It doesn’t take but a few seconds to drive through Bynum. As I drove,
I saw an old building that looked like a church up ahead. When I got closer I
said, “I have to stop here.” I wheeled in to the gravel lot that stuck half way
out on the side street and skidded to a stop. There was a sign on the side of
the building that said, “Trex Agate Shop, Since 1937.” Two words caught my eye,
Trex and Agate. Dinosaurs and stones!
We
walked in the door of the shop and there were rocks – bins of rocks. There were
fossils, bones and skeletons. There were agates, and there were bags of dirt –
garnet dirt and sapphire dirt. There were glass cases with the more expensive
stones. Inside the cases was jewelry of all kinds. Turquoise necklaces with
exquisite artistic design in silver were in one case, agates in another. On the
tops of the glass cases were little racks of jewelry. I guess you know what I
did. I went over and turned the racks slowly to look at the earrings and
necklaces made from the agates and precious stones.
We
were greeted by an elderly gentleman who truly loves his job. I asked about the
building. It had been a church and then a school. The building had stood there
for 103 years. It got its first inside bathroom after 102 years. Yep, it has
only had inside plumbing for 1 year. We talked with the man for a while. He is
a genuine asset to the little shop and to the community. We left the shop
reluctantly but we had a bag of treasures that included a tiger’s eye and a bag
of sapphire dirt.
As I walked out the door my little bag was full. I pulled the strings tight on my little bag of memories. Maud & Me had a good day!
Gates of the Mountains means more to me than just a fascinating boat tour that encompasses Lewis & Clark history, Indian history, commemoration of beyond brave fire fighters of the Mann Gulch fire, and unique geology. To me it also includes family history.
It was in this area, just a few short miles away, that two of my great great aunts and uncles ran the tollgate through the mountains in Prickly Pear Valley. The road was built on the route of an ancient Indian trail. It was initially constructed in 1865 but purchased by King & Gillette the following year. The tollgate was opened to fund and maintain the road. It became a gate through the mountains.
Floating on the Missouri River through the canyon is breathtaking. I try to imagine the first time those in the Lewis & Clark expedition saw that view. We walked in the area in which they camped. The formations along the canyon walls are much the same as they were all those years ago. Caves and holes are exposed in the limestone cliffs. Some of the strata seen in the walls are horizontal. Other areas of the walls were thrust into an almost vertical position due to pressure from lava beneath. We saw Indian hieroglyphics on the canyon wall, bald eagles on trees near the top of the canyon, unique formations in the shapes of animals, an osprey nest atop an 800 foot pinnacle, and the site of the Mann Gulch Fire. Our river guide was very informative of the history of the area.
Hieroglyphics
Later that afternoon, we took Sieben Road and drove through Prickly Pear Valley to Silver City, the little place where my grandmother was born. We made a couple of photo stops through the valley where it is guessed the location of the tollgate stood. The valley is absolutely gorgeous. It was described in The Montana Post,
“All new comers to the Territory, via Benton, remark upon the surpassing beauty of the Little Prickly Pear Canyon, that enchanted spot, so long one of nature’s inner temples, and but recently entered by man. To the admiration which the scenery calls forth is added the pleasurable surprise which is elicited by finding it after traveling over one hundred miles of so uninteresting a wagon tract as the Benton road. At a time when they expected it not they seem to have “passed through Switzerland”, as some of them have pointedly expressed it. Gibson’s ranch at its mouth a combination of neatness and good cheer offers a convenient stopping place for all who would enjoy the pleasure of hunting and fishing amidst the grand towers and groves of this mountain nook.”
That is the same scenery Maud & Me saw. We stopped alongside the road and took some pictures of the canyon walls and scenery all around. Thinking back to another time, we could almost hear the echoes of freight wagons rolling through the valley and see passengers in coaches waving as they passed by on their way to Helena. I felt the same sentiments as those from years ago as given in The Montana Post article. Much as they looked back then, cliffs rise from the valley floor reaching for the sky. The road runs along the river that sings a mountain song as it leaps from rock to rock. The road rises out of the valley into flat land with expansive views in all directions. I can picture the Brannin exodus from New Mexico coming to an end as wagons, herds of goats, and other stock arrive at their Montana destination where my grandmother and another great uncle would be born. It was special to be able to share that vision and this fascinating land with Maud.
Near Silver City, Montana after coming out of Prickly Pear Valley
Maud
is a young lady between the ages of 4 and 45, depending on her mood for that
particular moment in time. One moment she is driven by emotion and the beauty
of the moment or sentimental memories, tears dripping off her face. The next
moment she is singing a loud unmelodious song that may or may not be made-up
words. Another moment she wants her picture taken making victory signs with her
two fingers, head cocked to the side, one leg in the air and her tongue stuck
out. Yet another moment she may let out a forever burp. My friend that began
traveling with us, Sanity, slips out the back door of the car and threatens to
leave the scene.
Maud has her own language – one that I do not understand, nor do I really want to understand. She may use antonyms or her own form of neologism.
Here are some of them along with Maud’s definitions: wicked – awesome/cool broski – friend/pal (or some random stranger on a motorcycle) narsty – nasty/gross (also used when she says, “I fluffed a bunny”) rad – super dope dope – cool/awesome (see wicked) gucci – good tendy – sweet, but like super sweet send it – let’s go ‘bout to go ham – go crazy let’s kick it – let’s go bet ! – okay, let’s do it!
Sometimes
I just have to use my imagination to interpret what comes out of her mouth. I
wonder if my friend Sanity will ever return!
The past few days have been busy. We landed in Kalispell and hit the ground running. Within two hours our 4-wheel drive SUV had entered Glacier National Park and was dodging rocks and ruts on back roads. We have seen indescribable beauty and experienced new adventures. “Maud & Me” have been inspired by God’s grand creation but have also been renewed in spirit by the little things.
Just in the first part of our trip Maud was handed a new ticket on our first flight that put our seats next to one another; the pilot stopped and chatted with us several minutes about where we were going and what we doing; on the second flight a lady gave up her seat so a couple could sit with each other and though she didn’t know it at the time, they just happened to be newlyweds.
When we entered the park, I asked the attendant, at Maud’s suggestion, about a senior pass. I now am the proud cardholder of my very own Lifetime Senior Pass into all National Parks & National Monuments. That includes anyone who is in my vehicle. So be nice to me!
Polebridge, Montana
Our destination for that afternoon was Polebridge, Montana. We went into the Polebridge Mercantile and got a few pastries. Let me tell you, those are some of the best cinnamon rolls I’ve had, and they are huge! Maud was going to eat just a bite of her cinnamon roll, but she ate it all (with a little help from me). We proceeded on to Bowman Lake. When we arrived, a wedding was about to take place, so we crashed a wedding! On our way back to Polebridge to get Maud another cinnamon roll, we came across a couple pulled off the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. They had a couple of chairs set up and were getting a table so they could have their supper.
We have passed at least two Plein Air painters in different remote locations with easels and paints set up on the side of the road painting landscapes of the mountains and valleys.
We have talked with numerous travelers. We both took photos for people trying to get selfies. There was a set of grandparents taking their small grandchildren on an adventure to the park. There was the bicycling couple who have cycled all over the world. He had a stuffed pink bunny on his helmet. Later, we passed them on the road and immediately recognized the bunny hopping along in the wind. There was a group of handicapped athletes that must have been having some kind of activity in the park. There were young people from all over the states and the world that we talked with that are working in the park for the summer.
Mountain Goat with kid
Young Big Horn Sheep
I made a quick turn off the road to try to find a spot for a photo of an old railroad trestle. We were greatly rewarded with a mountain goat sighting of a mama with her baby. The stop was known to be frequented by goats because of the minerals in the ground. As we went on, Maud wanted to see a moose, and there was one in the marsh. We saw wild horses with two new foals as we went towards St. Mary. On the way back, we saw the horses again. I told Maud to look at their feet and discovered they had shoes. We were rewarded with seeing a juvenile Big Horn Sheep. I told Maud, “Hand me my lens NOW!”
At the little store at Two Medicine, we got a couple of shirts and a soda each. Maud got a Red Jammer Huckleberry Crème Soda, and I got a Flathead Lake Gourmet Soda. They were both good!
These are all some of the things that may be the “little things” that are sometimes taken for granted or not appreciated – people helping one another, people enjoying life, beautiful scenery, teamwork, enjoying one another’s company, encouraging one another, taking time for the simple things of life. Maud & Me say, “It’s the little things that make it all worthwhile.”
For years, I tried to get the girls to go on an overnight trip. I finally wore Red down. She gave in, and we’ve had some great adventures since then. The question was, would she travel across the country with me and the Judge? She debated and came up with all kinds of excuses. Finally, after her husband intervened, she consented. I booked the flight before she could back out.
Red was nervous as we headed toward our gate at the airport that June 2018 morning. It was her first time to fly. We had no trouble getting checked in and through security. We stopped in front the liquor store and joked about getting her a stiff drink before boarding. They weren’t even opened that early.
The call came to board. I let Red have the window seat. Since she had never flown, I thought she’d like to be able to see the scenery change right before her eyes as we traveled west. The Judge slid in next to her, and I was on the aisle seat. The door closed, and Red started twitching. Soon we were rolling down the runway. The nose of the plane started lifting in the air. She grabbed the Judge’s hand. I told her to hold her feet up so we could take off. She looked at my questioningly. We were well in the air, and they still held hands. By the time I pried her white knuckled fingers off the Judge’s hand, she had calmed down just a smidgen. Of course, her hesitation to sit by the window may have had something to do with one of her assigned tasks for the trip. I had told her, “You get the window seat. It’s the best place to sit. If the window gets busted out, your job is to stop up the hole. The Judge will grab your feet and I’ll grab hers. It’s all good.” (Just a week or so before, a lady had been sucked out of a plane when the window was busted out)
Red had another assigned job, too. I told her that one reason I wanted her to go on this trip was because I needed bear bait. Now some folks would know exactly what that meant, but I had to explain to my traveling companions. I asked them, “Do you know what bear bait is?” “No.” “If we come across a bear and it chases after us, I need someone that runs slower than me.” For some reason, she didn’t appreciate my confidence in her skills nor her assignment. She looked at me real mean, and I was the one taking her on a once-in-a-lifetime grand adventure!
We made the flight just fine. Red had settled in and even enjoyed the flight as the world changed beneath us. The plane landed in Bozeman, Montana. We were off the plane in no time and went to gather up our luggage. The next thing we had to do was get our car rental. Of course, the smaller SUV I had signed up for turned into a large SUV I didn’t sign up for. Oh my!
I like to talk to the locals. The young man who waited on us was a student at Montana State in Bozeman. He asked if we were going to Yellowstone. I told him we were. He said, “The bears are bad this year. Be sure and watch out for them.” I cut my eyes over at Red. We all started laughing. I told him that was okay because I brought my own bear bait. Then I pointed to Red. He said, “Oh, so she runs slower than you?” Later when we stopped at my cousin’s house and then my aunt’s house, I told them Red was bear bait. Did you know that they said the same thing with a chuckle added, “Oh, so you must run slower?”
We got to test my theory (at a distance) – and let me tell you, bear bait can run faster than you think! The sequel to this story, “Bear. Bear! IT’S A BEAR!!” will follow in this blog at a later date.
