|
COPYRIGHT 2005 Ehlert Publishing Group
A whole lot of nothing. That's what we expected to see on our journey across eastern Montana--flat and drear, sagebrush and maybe the occasional bovine chewing its cud with a bored expression. After all, we'd heard predictions to that effect nearly every time we told anyone we were riding the Central Montana Highway from border to border. "There's a whole lot of nothin' out there," twanged the farmhand in the Winnett Bar--where the rancher laughed when he heard where we were headed.
"North Dakota?" he scoffed with a blue-eyed glint. "That ain't the end of the world, but you can see it from there."
[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]
Before you listen to them, though, remember this: These guys see this country every day, like looking at their faces in the mirror. They live on the edge of Montana's Big Open. Their county, although nearly as big as the state of Delaware, counted just 292 households in the last census. Heck, more cattle than people call this place home.
We, on the other hand, were delighted with what we found. OK, the eastern highway itself offers about as much excitement as a Saturday night in Winnett (where, if you believe the bartender, drying paint really is a spectator event). But the scenery--puckered, rippled, dotted with eerie land formations, rising in colorful badlands--always changes, always surprises. And the towns? True to Montana form, each has its own story, its own character, its own dreams--all of them populated with friendly, helpful people. Even in Winnett, once the bartender deigned to acknowledge our hungry faces, we found ourselves regaled with stories about the...
Read the full article for free courtesy of your local library.
|
Bookmark this article
Print this article
Link to this article
Email this article
Digg It!
Add to del.icio.us
RSS
