I took the girls on an adventure – girls as in the Judge, Red, and Maud. That particular trip required us to wash our clothes a couple of times. You can tell by the picture below that we were in a place with dirt roads zigzagging through the countryside. It wasn’t just our vehicle that was dusty.
We gathered up our dirty clothes and headed to town. As usual, we plan a meal with any occasion, and laundry day was no exception. The first stop was the laundromat. We loaded up three washers with clothes, started our walk through town, grabbed some lunch, and popped into various shops along main street. By the time we got back to the laundromat the clothes were ready for the dryers. I gathered up a few things and went to our vehicle to put it in the back. I will admit that even I was surprised to see a couple of items hanging in the back to dry. Let me just say that those things didn’t belong to me. We laughed about our ornaments, closed the hatch, and walked down the street to get our milkshakes.
If you see a SUV with an Idaho tag, with two bras hanging, one on each side of the back window – I don’t know anything about it. I can’t take those girls anywhere!
It had been a long day, starting before 5:00 AM. We got everything packed up and started loading the car. That’s when Judge discovered we had a flat tire. Superman came to our rescue, and we made it to the airport with a few minutes to spare.
We landed in time to stop for a leisurely supper before heading home. After a trip, we always laugh and practice our improvisation skills. Sometimes we even include waitresses or complete strangers in our wild tales. We like to make people smile.
I told the judge she could drive home. When she drives, we get wherever we’re going quicker because she is a mad woman, not mad as in perturbed and spitting nails, but mad as in kind of crazy. We started out. I grimaced a time or two and about put a hole through the floor trying to find a brake pedal on the passenger side. She weaved in and out of traffic. The judge doesn’t go with the flow of traffic, she leads the flow of traffic.
The darker it got, the more I could feel my teeth grinding together. I said, “What’s wrong the lights?” I didn’t know how she could see anything and was afraid that other drivers wouldn’t see us because the lights were dimmer than they needed to be. It was then that there was a voice from the back seat. You know about back seat drivers – and you know why they ride in the back seat. Red said, “Do you have your sunglasses on?” Now, what kind of question is that?
I tried to give the judge instruction as to how to turn the dials to check the lights. As she turned knobs, I answered Red. I said, “Of course I don’t have on my sunglasses!” as I reached up to my face. “Well, I’ll be! Let me just lower my shades.”
It was a miracle! Suddenly, the lights were good and bright. I guess the judge found the right dial after all.
There was one last stop I wanted to make before getting to our cabin. It was a trivial thing, but I thought the girls would enjoy it. As we got off the interstate ramp, I tried to explain to the girls what we were going to see.
Sure enough, even before we passed into the Greycliff Prairie Dog Town State Park, there was a fuzzy little critter standing tall like the sentry that it was. I rolled the windows down and told the girls to listen. All they heard was a few clicks, chips and chirps. The Judge said, “What is it?” “It’s a prairie dog.” She was surprised, and I was even more surprised when she said she was looking for a dog of some kind. Others joined the chorus as they signaled warnings to the town of prairie dogs that strangers were in their territory.
Just when I thought they understood, we saw an especially chubby guy standing atop a mound. It didn’t even twitch. The Judge said, “Is it stuffed?”
“Yep. It’s a statue. They put it there so people will know what a prairie dog looks like.” Right on cue, the fuzzy guy looked at us then disappeared in his hole.
We shared a great time of laughter more than once on her account.
If you’re ever in Greycliff, Montana, it’s worth a stop at the 98-acre Greycliff Prairie Dog Town State Park. The preserve for the black-tailed prairie dogs is full of holes, mounds and a tribe of prairie dogs. You might be a bit intrigued but some of the locals who find them a nuisance may not share your opinion.
Wide open country stretched for what seemed like eternity. Though the rolling hills and flat prairies seemed uninhabited, there was evidence of life. Trails wound up and over the rising and falling grassy slopes, skirting clumps of sagebrush and dipping into coulees that promised a drink of water. The trails did not magically appear but were lifelines carved into the land.
My mind took another trail following the footsteps of my dad into the mountains. I loved hiking or backpacking into the wilds with him because he knew where each rocky path led. Many of the trails that have stood the test of time were first forged by wild animals that dwelt in the mountains. Some were blazed by men and women seeking a route where few human footsteps had fallen. Each had its own story of where it had been, where it was going, and what it had seen.
I cannot even begin to remember every trail I followed through the woods or into the mountains. Many adventures were found along the way – paths though virgin forests and stands of ancient wooden sentinels, cow trails to abandoned homesteads, exploring and playing along lazy winding creeks and mountains streams rushing over rocky beds, high trails above steep shale cliffs, mossy boardwalks through rain forests, stone steps leading to jade colored pools, and hearing tales of times gone by. Some of the best pathways led to the home of friends or family where the door was always open and a cookie with a cold glass of milk awaited.
All trails lead somewhere. Even as time fades, beaten paths are threatened by years of neglect and roots of overgrown trees. Still bits and pieces exist. Faint markers and blazes half swallowed by tree bark are evidence of life that once passed that way.
Yes, trails lead somewhere – if nowhere else but to my memories.
You might think I take the girls on adventures because they need to experience new places and expand their horizons. Well, that is partially true, and it is also true that I like to go on adventures, too.
But there is part of this equation you might not know. Having a friend along is a great, and sometimes, dire necessity.
The other day I was in the airport restroom while my traveling companions stayed with the luggage. I stood hopelessly at the sink trying to get the motion activated sensor to release the water. A stranger walked in. I looked at her desperately and said, “Help! I need a friend. Will you please get this water started for me?” She laughed, waved her hand in front of the faucet and, walla, it worked perfect.
Motion activated sensors are a bane to my existence. If I manage to get the soap dispenser to work, the water doesn’t. Sometimes neither do. I have soaped my hands and tried every sink with no satisfaction. If I manage to get both the soap and water to work, I feel pretty smug – that is until I try to dry my hands. It makes no difference if it’s the sensor paper towel dispenser or the hot air hand dryer – sometimes it’s the shirt tail for me.
Now if it was just the soap or the water or the hand dryer, that would be one thing, but when the auto flush toilets get in the act, it is purely miserable. I wait and wait and wait and wait and the blasted toilet won’t flush. I have to push the funny little button to release the whirlpool. The other day I was so excited. The toilet flushed when I rose from the throne. As I started to leave the stall, it flushed a second time. It’s all or nothing! Hah! I finally beat it!
I walked to the sink with confidence, thinking, “The curse has been lifted. This is the day I claim victory and will overcome the sensor plague.”
It’s a good thing someone walked in so I could make my plea, “Help, I need a friend!”
I couldn’t tell you how many times my companions have had to help me start those annoying conveniences. If they aren’t around, just give me a bar of soap, a turn on faucet, a couple of paper towels and a toilet handle!
The girls came to me like two little puppies, jumping up and down with tongues out and tails wagging. “When are we going on another adventure? Huh? Huh? Can we go? Can we go? Yeah, Yeah, let’s go somewhere.” I patted their heads, “Down girls!”
After a few times of that, they wore me down. “Okay. We’ll go somewhere. We’ll go on a road trip.” I thought that would calm them down but no! I knew I had to make plans – and quick – if I was going to get any peace at all. Then, Maud got in the act! So guess what? We’re on road trip.
Red is along. Her name kind of gives her away. Yep, she has red hair with green eyes to go along with it. And she has freckles, well, more than that. She has freckles on top of freckles and they have their own freckles. She likes to put on makeup in the morning so her freckles will sleep.
Then there’s the Judge. She thinks she’s the judge at all times. But I can only allow so much of that! When we’re on a road trip, I’m in charge. To make sure, I don’t let her know ALL of the plans, but how can I because I don’t even know them all. On occasion, to make her feel important, I give her assignments. I sure wouldn’t want her to loose her judgeship skills. She gets to do things like haul rocks, drive Irish Chariots, pump gas, ask people questions, and stuff kind of like that. She is a natural beauty so doesn’t have to mess with makeup.
You’ve met Maud before. She’s the young blood of the group – zany, which means, amusingly unconventional and idiosyncratic, and she likes to calm us with her singing skills. At any time she might jump in the air and click her feet together, tell a wild tale or yell at the sky.
We moved the summer of my junior year of high school. It wasn’t always easy changing schools. One just doesn’t go to a new school and break through the cliques and infiltrate friendships that are already established – but that’s another story. It really didn’t make much difference to me anyway. I only just tolerated school at best.
To me, moving was an adventure. I thought of new friends and relationships that I wouldn’t have otherwise and didn’t want to miss out on that. Just within a week or two, I was invited to the Planetarium/Science Center to rappel off the building. That certainly piqued my interest!
When I pulled up to the building, I was greeted like an old friend. That’s where I met Mr. Smith, who at that time was Coordinator for Curriculum for the county schools, as well as the founding director of the planetarium which opened in 1967, and his wife who was a school counselor. Mr. Smith and I had an immediate connection – we were both PKs. That was the beginning of a relationship that has lasted for years.
I climbed the stairs to the top of the building that was also the observatory for star gazing. I got rigged up, hooked up the carabiners to my seat, and jumped off the side of the building. Of course, someone tied my seat and showed me what to do while they explained the safety precautions. That day and every time after when we rappelled, Mrs. Smith ALWAYS said, “Check your break bars.” That’s a warning I carried with me from then on. When I left that day, I had a standing invitation to join them anytime.
The relationship forged that day grew to something greater. Not only did I gain good friends, I also gained a teacher and great mentors. And, I was offered a job. In order to take the position, I was required to take the Vocational Office Training Class offered at school. One purpose of VOT was to place students into office positions to gain work experience in that field. Though I had already acquired the office skills needed, I complied so I could become Mr. Smith’s secretary. For two years I typed, mailed correspondence from Mr. Smith to teachers in the school system, helped conduct planetarium programs, built lockers, made dolls and other props to put behind the dome for special showings, answered the phone, made reservations, and greeted school groups, among other things.
But there was a bonus. I was a secretary – with benefits.
Those benefits included hiking, backpacking, rappelling, learning proper rappelling rigging and knot tying, camping, caving, fossil hunting, good food, use of a Nikon camera, darkroom access to process black and white film and develop my own photos, alternative education for part of the school year, pine needle tea and other survival tips, learning to operate the Goto projector, watching meteor showers and comets, bonfires, field trips to unique places, mine exploring, and much more. My job also provided funds for the summer trip my sister and I took across the country, and for my very first pair of real jeans.
Along a hiking trail
I’m very thankful for the kindness that was extended to me, the new kid on the block. It has been a lasting friendship with the fondest of memories and continuing education of which I am still reaping the benefits.
One day, I decided a girls’ day trip was in order and I knew just the place to go. I set the date and time, told the girls what to wear and when to be ready.
When I give them specifics for clothing or type of shoes, they get a bit nervous. Red and the Judge have learned to just go with it, but Spike said, “Where are we going?” My reply was the same as always, “I can’t tell you. It’s a secret!”
Red and Spike are redheaded cousins. Judge is their cousin, too. The limbs of their family tree go every which way with a few twisted, very twisted, branches. The song, “I’m My Own Grandpa,” might give you some idea of what their tree looks like. Those three gals were my companions for the day.
We loaded up and headed north. Our first stop was one of the best burger joints around. The burgers are yummy, scrumptious, and the menu has almost every kind of burger you can imagine. We had just enough time for our relaxing meal and some laughter before heading to our new adventure.
We parked downtown and walked up the street. I opened the door that read, “Civil Axe Throwing,” walked up the stairs and looked back. The girls came through the door and looked mean at me. They threw virtual axes at me and their eyes said, “We’re doing what?”
After getting our instructions, we tried our hand at axe throwing. Now, I’ll just tell you, I’m not great at throwing axes. The Judge is pretty good at it, even though that’s not her weapon of choice.
Now the redheaded girls? You’d better stay out of their way. Don’t mess with redheads! They can turn on a dime and slash you with super speed daggers with just one flash of their eyes. Before you know it, you can be brought down with secret ninja moves that appear from nowhere. When redheaded girls are perturbed (a nice word for mad), keep a wide berth.
It was no time at all before those gals were hitting the bullseye. By the time our scores were tallied, I admit that I was not in the running for the top three positions. To my defense, I do plan the BEST adventures!
BTW – I did get a couple of bullseyes. (However, if I would have had a two-headed axe, I would have had twice as many chances.)
A couple of things you might need to know about redheads: 1) redheaded bear bait can run faster than you think 2) don’t bet against a redheaded gal at an axe throwing contest
It was the girls’ (Red and the Judge) first trip west. Though I had tried to prepare them, they still weren’t sure what to expect. I wasn’t surprised that they were amazed at everything. The day after we arrived, we toured the prairie. I was able to show them a bit of what prairie life was like when we visited various locations where some of my family had lived. The girls were able to experience some of the well-worn rutted dirt roads, a stretch of mud ready to turn into gumbo, and occasional inclines where we jumped from rock to rock, proving the reason why I requested a high clearance four wheel drive vehicle.
The following day, we were up and out early headed to Yellowstone. Now, anyone who travels with me knows I prefer less populated places. Yellowstone National Park in the summer is not one of those. Give me wide open country, mountains and back roads. However, it was a beautiful day. On the way to Gardiner, the northern entrance to Yellowstone, I made a stop at a camping area to show the girls a tepee ringthat only a few people know about. They were able to sit inside the ring, look out over the Yellowstone River in the valley, and imagine the Indian camp that once stood on that location. I could close my eyes and almost hear the sounds of children playing, women grinding grain with stones, scraping leather, and cooking over a sizzling fire. That was definitely something the girls had never experienced – maybe never even thought of.
We drove into Yellowstone and from the very beginning, there was no disappointment. Our first stop was Mammoth Hot Springs. We walked along the boardwalks and saw an intriguing land created by thermal activity making it look like a series of stalagmites and steps rising from rusty minerals in a bed of white chalk. Looking toward the town at a distance, we saw an elk with the biggest rack we’d ever seen. As we drove away from the springs, we took a side road to see the huge elk. Much to our surprise, the elk didn’t have a big rack at all. What looked like a big rack from a distance was only a bush.
Though I had been to Yellowstone several times, it still fascinated me. A system of bowel tracts full of geothermal acid and magma chambers wander beneath the surface of this volcano waiting to happen. Formations appear on the unstable and fragile landscape as gases spew from the bowels of the earth. Throughout the park, fissures allow steam to escape like smoke from an old man’s pipe. Mountains look like they are on fire. One of the places I wanted the girls to see was the stinky Paint Pots. That was important because they needed to know what Caramel Icing looks like when it’s ready. The directions say, “cook it until it looks like the stinky Paint Pots in Yellowstone.” Of course, a trip to Yellowstone is not complete without seeing Old Faithful. She draws attention to herself as she spits and sputters, sending short bursts of hot water and steam into the air teasing the crowd of onlookers. The stage is set for her grand performance. She makes her appearance, casting streamers into the air as she dances and throws steam and gases toward the sky, reaching higher and higher with each turn.
And I wonder, how can mud boil? How can the force of nature suck in water and mud, gurgle and vomit, and release a rotten egg stench that will curl your nose hairs? How can geysers randomly spew hot sulfuric gases that have festered beneath the ground and emit such heinous sounds as if from the pit of hell? How can acid that brings the bite of death to vegetation and all in its path leave behind earth toned residue and thermal pools of brilliant blues and greens lined with a myriad of colors?
Leaving behind geysers and mud volcanos, we drove into the land of deep canyons, rivers and waterfalls, with snowcapped mountains resting quietly in the distance. Several stops were made along the drive through Lamar Valley. Buffalo, elk, and deer grazed along the sides of the road. Herds gathered along the winding river. We stopped, looked and listened as other on-lookers stood nearby with binoculars or long-lensed cameras hoping to spot a wolf. Though we didn’t see a wolf, the allurement of this enchanting land was nonetheless fascinating. The evening sun, casting a golden glow across the valley, was the perfect close of a day filled with the wonder of creation.
As darkness consumed the light of day, we were completely satisfied. Even as we had our evening meal at the Log Cabin Café in Silver Gate, the girls’ faces still reflected their experiences and thoughts of the day. Had I only seen their faces as they beheld Yellowstone for the first time, it would have been well worth the trip just seeing their child-like wonder.
You may have crashed a party before, but have you ever crashed a whole town?
I wanted the girls to have a full Montana experience. Included in that were small towns that are scattered around the state. I love going through the little towns, some of which only have a Post Office, maybe a bar, and possibly a general store of sorts.
Two Dot Bar & Grill
We took the back roads that wound behind Porcupine Butte and along Lebo Lake. As we came into the town of Two Dot, the street was blocked. I stopped, then whipped onto a side street (the only choice), took a left, and another left, and back onto the main highway. Two Dot is a big town. It has a population of 67. There is Two Dot Hwy., Main St., Second Ave., Third Ave. and Park St. I parked in front of Two Dot Bar and Grill. That’s where we planned to grab a bite to eat. We walked in and noticed the place was relatively empty, but the street life was hopping. I struck up a conversation with the girl behind the bar. They weren’t serving lunch because of the street dance and fund raiser for the Fire Department. About that time, a guy walked in, heard the conversation, and invited us to go to the Fire Hall. They were serving burgers as their fundraiser. The music had started and soon the dance would be underway. The girls weren’t too sure about crashing a dance and fundraiser and the whole town of Two Dot.
Lebo Lake
I was hungry and didn’t have any misgivings about being party crashers. As I accepted his invitation, the girls looked hesitant. Their eyes said, “no,” but their bellies said, “yes.” From our accents, it was obvious we weren’t from there or from anywhere close. The guy was kind and volunteered to buy our lunch. We must have really looked like damsels in distress. “That’s okay. We’re good. But thanks anyway.”
An old place in Two Dot
We got our plates and drinks and found a seat at the long tables in the fire hall. The guy kept eying us. It was clear he was a bit confused. How did three southern belles (as was obvious from our accents) end up in Two Dot? You only end up there on purpose or because you’re lost. It wasn’t long before he made his way to our table and said, “Do you girls know where you are?” “Yep. We’re in Two Dot.” “Do you know where you’re going? Do you need directions?” He assumed we were lost or had car trouble. “Nope. I know where we’ve been and I know where we’re going. We just came from Melville and will eventually go back to our little cabin on the Boulder.” He was still puzzled. I questioned him about where he was from and asked if he had family in the area. His grandfather was the mail carrier for years and drove that same road we had taken through the countryside. I asked his grandfather’s name. Ahhhh… Olson … “Was he the one who had a piece of property up Melville Lane?” It was. He was surprised when I told him that my grandfather had a piece of property in the same area, but he and Olson had swapped properties many years before. The guy’s eyes got real big. He finally understood that I really did know where we were, where we were going and a bit of his family’s history to boot! Small world!
Be careful about assumptions and beware of party crashers – especially those with an accent.
