On The Road Again - 5

My Summer Road Trip, part 5

I didn't actually throw a dart at a map to decide where to go. I had a plan. After visiting three minor destinations (Cedar Falls, Waldorf College, Devil's Gulch), I drove on to visit three major destinations (Badlands National Park, Mt. Rushmore, Devil's Tower). After leaving Sheridan, WY, with a stop at the Little Bighorn Battlefield memorial and a detour through Billings, MT, I continued west on the orange-barreled I-90 to my next destination: Bozeman.

On the way to Bozeman I pulled into the only rest stop along the route (near Big Timber), with mountains rising on my left along the Wyoming-Montana border and pastoral hills to my right, and the darkening sky ahead of me as storm clouds billowed over the mountains to the west. The rest stop was surprisingly crowded with vacationers but I continued on.

As scenic as the route was, I couldn't take any good pictures. The shaking of the car, the dirty windows, rain, and my speed prevented quality photography. Later, as I drove up and down narrow and curving mountain roads, I needed to focus of the road as much as I would've wished to take a dramatic shot. Seldom was there a place to pull over. Even when there were pullouts in the national parks I didn't want to stop at every one for a picture. So you get what you get here; I have the full pictures locked in my mind's eyes.

As I drove I was reminded of an episode from my youth. In one childhood road trip with my parents, we stopped at the small town of Livingston (just east of Bozeman) because my father wanted to visit a certain fly fishing supply store he'd read about in a fishing magazine. He wanted to get all the materials for making fishing flies (lures) and have me make some for him to use. I suppose he thought it would be cheaper than buying a ready-made lure. But I was the creative type and constructed all kinds of "flies" according to my whims, not matching flies based on actual insects that fish leap at. I used up all the materials and my father never caught any fish with the flies I made. 

Why Bozeman? Besides being an excellent base for exploring the 100 miles in every direction, I'd gained an interest in the town because of a friend moving there (from Canada) and posting about her new life there over the past couple of years. It is a scenic place: forested mountains on all sides with grassy valleys sprinkled with cattle, and featuring Montana State University. I mentioned to my artist friend, who has designed many of my book covers, that I would be driving up there. She said she was going to Europe at that time but I could stay in her family's house. She gave me the door code but I politely declined, afraid of messing it up, and opted for a hotel by the I-90 exit.

The rain I met driving west to Bozeman intensified as I arrived and I struggled through the deluge, checking in and then going out for something to eat - all while everyone was heading home. I knew from maps there was a Barnes &Noble bookstore at a mall on the west end of town. I made my way there through a dark, rainy, rush hour on streets I only knew vaguely from what I remembered from the Google map on my phone. But I made it: dashed inside, got a hot coffee and an apple tart, then gathered some maps and browsed the shelves as usual, before returning back through the town to my hotel. With the rain continuing into the night all I could do was study my maps and plan my three days there.

The next day was much better: sunny and cool. First, I went to the Montana State campus and toured it almost like I was a prospective MSU parent. As is my quirk, I went through the library, hit the bookstore in the student union, checked out their selection of English textbooks and got a university logo t-shirt (Bobcats). 

Next, I drove around the town and the area, dodging more orange barrels, and noted what my friend had complained about: a cowboy town that grew a university was now a hipster community where many people flocked, expecting a paradise for ski bums and the freedom-loving camper crowd. (Wait until winter!) The expanding "suburbs" appeared rather Disneyesque as carefully planned neighborhoods, with a patina of artificiality that made you wonder if cameras were monitoring your every move. There seemed little of the rustic and country left outside the "old town" blocks. 

Indeed, apartment complexes sprouted everywhere, some yet under construction, hurrying to house the influx of new residents, far beyond just making more student housing. It wasn't unattractive, but I could understand how the locals would take the developments as a destruction of their traditional home. Honestly, I wouldn't mind living there, could wear cowboy boots and cowboy hat and speak with a country drawl.

When I travel, I like to imagine living in the place, seeing how life would be were I to be a full-time resident. I did that in Bozeman. I even shopped at Walmart, rubbing shoulders with the locals, much to their chagrin. But I had to be honest with myself: if I were a full-time resident, at any location, I'm likely to spend most of my time indoors, writing and reading, and only go out for errands - and that would be the only time I enjoyed the great outdoors. Now I'm no longer the great adventurer, ready to hike anywhere my whims lead me.

What else to do? I thought through my next novel as I drove, then typed notes in my hotel room. I watched TV. I downloaded pictures from my phone and my camera. I thought I'd seen enough of Bozeman. However, I realized that, using Bozeman as a base, I could visit Yellowstone National Park...because it was right there, 90 minutes south through the mountains, plus I already had my Senior Lifetime Member card.

NEXT: Yellowstone National Park

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