Last night, I started the book Gallatin Canyon, short stories by Thomas McGuane. It reminded me how much I have always wanted to travel the Gallatin Hwy to West Yellowstone. Considering where I am and where I am headed, at the very least, I could travel about 50 miles or so down the canyon and get back up to I-90 the next day and continue to my destination in the Black Hills. I decided, after almost no debate, to cut south on the Gallatin Hwy, just west of Bozeman. Two canyon roads run nearly parallel to each other and I got on the “other one”, through Gallatin Valley. No matter, it was stunning, and I found a sweet, inexpensive RV park about 55 miles south (Ennis RV Park, $27 with electricity and water, no sewer). Shower, my first laundry chores since I left, dinner and NFL radio. I couldn’t get the Broncos, but enjoyed the Eagles game. I learned a great deal about their new rookie quarterback. Will be watching him this season. Eagles have been on my football B list for many years (the A list only has one name: Broncos).

Sunset at Ennis RV Park

I reflected on the terrain changes since leaving the Idaho Panhandle. It’s all Rocky Mountains, but I left a lusher kind of forest, with ferns growing in the shaded spaces. It is nothing like the rain forests of the NW, but fuller, lusher than farther down the mountain chain. As I neared Missoula, I began to see some hay meadows and wider valleys. After crossing the Continental Divide, the transition to mountains/prairie meadows was complete – the classic terrain of large Montana ranches. The mountains were more distant and in between, I saw fields of small grains and alfalfa. It is hay bale season so the huge round bales made the scenery idyllic.

I left Ennis and my little oasis, happy about listening to a football game, all cleaned up, and with a stack of folded laundry. I also left with fond memories of eating a huckleberry ice cream sandwich. Rather than travel directly to I-90 I took a cutoff to Bozeman (Hwy 287 north to Hwy 84). Now, THAT was a scenic Hwy. It followed the Madison River and passed through BLM land that was open for camping, right on the river. In other circumstances, I would have stayed a week there, but I had a timeline to meet DtB in the Black Hills. After the Madison River, I passed over hills and fields. Not far off the road, I saw a bull moose standing in a wheat field, up to his knees, which are insanely high off the ground. Moose usually wander near water and willows and was so out of context that I smiled for a long time.

The road eventually took me through downtown Bozeman (four thumbs up) and I-90. Late afternoon, I pulled into the Billings Cabela’s. They too encourage RVers to spend the night. They even offer free kennels for dogs and corrals for horses. Two years ago I stopped there and bought two chairs and a sleeping pad.  This time I was more frugal, buying only ½ price Cabela’s flip flops. And, I did it. I took a shower in the Cabela’s parking lot. I felt strange, but I was behind my locked door, in my own shower. I don’t know if I will ever be totally comfortable showing in a parking lot.

Blue Moon right next to the boat, in Camp Cabela!

Zoom, off I go after my shower. I took I-90 to Crow Agency, then Hwy 212 into Spearfish, SD. Lots of motorcycle folks were heading the other way, after a week in Sturgis! The terrain changed again. I got the northeastern Wyoming vibe (the back road actually goes through a dab of Wyoming. First, I passed through sagebrush, then the terrain turned endlessly hilly and was dotted with junipers. Cottonwoods (my spirit tree if there is such a thing) lined the bottom lands. Black and Red Angus grazed on the slopes, while antelope gleaned in the freshly cut hay fields. Antelope! Sagebrush! Cows! My muse finally begins her long-awaited appearance. I have a sense of being home. A home from another time.

I am close to Spearfish. Don and I arrived within minutes of each other. Tango and Don are gaga over each other. Then, I get a hug too!