NORTH BY NORTHWEST

DAY ONE: BASALT TO BILLINGS

Is about 650 miles or twelve hours driving if you drive for economy and keep under the speed limit. The car had quite a bit of sticky, semi-frozen snow all over it first thing in the morning which took a bit of cleaning off. The route was basically Basalt to Rifle (done in slight blowing snow) and from there, if one might be pardoned the phrase, one shoots straight up northwards climbing to the high, semi-desert plains from the Colorado River. The scenery, all covered with a coat of fresh snow, is spectacular, driving along narrow country roads with steep hills rearing up on both sides until one gains the plateau of the western divide. At this time of the year, watch out for wild life, deer and elk, at the side of the road. Scavenger birds (crows, turkey vultures, and even the occasional eagle) at the roadside attend the remains of unfortunate beasts struck by cars. “Don’t stop for them or swerve,” advised the man at the store where I bought coffee, “better to just hit them rather than skidding out of control on the icy snow.” Luckily, although I caught sight of a herd of elk away off in a field, I suffered no such chance encounters.

From Colorado it is basically up the middle of Wyoming, crisscrossing the Great Divide variously at 6,500 to 7,250 feet of elevation at the edge of the Great Plains, the prairie stretching away to the East until the wide Mississippi and bounded by the Missouri to the North. At the high points, the western half of the road is covered with blown snow. The outside temperature is about 34 deg F making for slippery driving conditions. There are lots of historic points to notice, including the westward trail leading across the Rockies. About here the guides to the pioneers on the Oregon Trail began to look for Beacon Rock to the West of this road, signifying the end of the prairie and the beginning of the hazardous crossing of the Rockies to be accomplished before the onset of Winter. Those faithful readers of this Blog may recall, some four years back, that I stopped a little West of Beacon Rock, shivering in the wind and rain, making my way down from the Great Tetons and Yellowstone National Park toward Basalt. I gave their memory a moment, wondering at the courage and fortitude of those early pioneers who had walked all the way from the East, with their wagons and cattle.

Crossing over into Montana, soon there is the National Memorial Park commemorating the Battle of the Little Bighorn and Custer’s Last Stand. One also crosses Sandy Creek alongside of which is the place where Custer’s men massacred an entire village of women and children thereby evoking the revenge they suffered a few days later at Little Big Horn.

This is vast, empty country marked by rolling hills and sudden outcrops of rocky crags, beautiful but also unforgiving and deadly. It is so far from Washington that one wonders how an army might be controlled at such an immense distance. Its stark, unending emptiness reminds me of driving through the Australian interior, mile after mile and hardly another car to be seen. This is now the second time that I have driven through this country around the end of Winter. As with the first time, I am lucky as the weather is mainly fine. The snow can be really bad up here and most roads have gates that are closed when bad conditions obtain and notices to warn that one must return to the nearest town and of heavy fines for the foolish who venture on.

I have my trusty GPS mounted high on the windscreen, just to the left of the rear vision mirror, so the route is clear. Entering into Billings, however, once the sun has set and darkness asserts, it becomes a little like an instrument approach into a strange airport. I faithfully follow its direction and arrive at my motel without error. Nearby a friendly barmaid provides two beers, chicken wings, and cheering company for just $12.50!

And so to this story and now to bed.

DAY TWO: BILLINGS TO KALISPELL

Only one thing is more boring than this posting…driving West along I90 between Billings and Missoula!

My GPS showed 122 miles to my next turn off as I persevered along mainly straight thoroughfare.

THEN…my TomTom spoke to me. ‘Dong, Dong!!’ it said. Immediately my eyes flew to the gadget. It was displaying a remarkable message, ‘I have just discovered a route that is eleven (11) minutes shorter. Do you want to change your route? YES NO’

Of course, I pressed the YES button. Wonder of wonders, now it showed I only had 47 miles to go to my next ‘turn off’. Now I am definitely ‘turned on’ by my TomTom which took me off on rural roads passing though wonderfully beautiful country and to a pleasant conversation with the operator of a gas station with a huge plastic cow out front. Example of local directions, ‘Just take a left at The Cow’. Like many Montanans, she had lived a long time somewhere else, Oregon in her case; she sold me coffee and muffin for $2!!

A word of advise, Trust your TomTom