Home  Journal Impressions from Big Sky
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Written by Ben
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Thursday, 14 June 2007 |
Headwinds, guns, rednecks, and funky little college towns. Those are the memories of Montana I'll take with me. I'm sitting in an internet cafe in West Yellowstone, about a mile from the Wyoming border, about to leave Big Sky Country after my first ever visit. In some ways it was exactly what I expected, and in others - not at all. The first Montanan I saw was a little Blackfoot Indian of about 4 years old. He was playing in a beat up old pickup truck outside of a windswept gas station north of Babb - 15 miles from Canada - while his dad did some business in the store. As I took pictures of him, he showed me various things through the truck's window: batteries; a healthy grin; his plump little hands; and finally a rack of about 15 rifle shells. That startled me a bit - I grew up in Pasadena, and the only gun I've ever held was a .22 rifle at family camp when I was 7 or 8. Guns are not a familiar part of life for me. But they are in Montana. Walk into a grocery store, and right alongside the eggs and cheese are shells for your rifles, hanguns, shotguns, and air rifles.
The people here are comfortable with weapons in a way I don't think I will ever be. As we reassembled our bikes after the bus ride to Bozeman, I turned around and there was a young man sighting down the scope of a hunting rifle propped against the window of his car. True the barrel wasn't attached to the stock - but still weird. In the back of the car was a camo-patterned compound hunting bow.
Taxidermy is a big business in this state - the day before entering Missoula, we passed 3 taxidermy shops. One, Second Nature Taxidermy, had a school of taxidermy attached. Guess you have to learn somewhere.
But alongside the gun culture are funky little towns reminiscent of Santa Cruz. Bozeman impressed me especially. Smack in the middle of the windswept prairie, Bozeman has a quality in the air that I have come to expect from this state; a sort of bracing refreshment with every breath. As with every town entered via a Greyhound station, I was not impressed at first glance. Three grizzled old beared men were busy getting drunk on the grassy bank next to the station, and when told of our destination, responded only with, "I'm sorry". Clearly the concept of a bike vacation eluded them.
However, the second thing we rode past on our way into town was the Bozeman Public Library, a beautiful stone and naked wood building with towering windows and Wild Joe's Organic Coffee Bar, tucked next to the front door. My impression improved. And it improved farther the next day with the bustling Main Street, full of wonderful gear shops and coffee bars all housed in turn of the century brick buildings. The internet cafe was top notch, and the streets teemed with bicycles. Bozeman is home to Montana State University, and Missoula hosts the University of Montana. Both have the same sort of really cool downtown, and both are surrounded by gorgeous scenery and big, snow capped peaks. I should have looked into Montana when I was researching schools.
When I stop typing, we'll ride down the street into Wyoming and Yellowstone National Park. The type of person that visits Yellowstone seems different than that which visits other parks; every third vehicle on the road is an RV, and the National Forest campround signs around here have a little plaque at the bottom stating "tenters welcome". Apparently we are in the minority.
Tomorrow we see Old Faithful, Monday we roll into Lander, home of NOLS, and then off down to the Colorado Border and Idaho Springs, from where we hope to bus into Denver on Sunday or Monday (24th or 25th).
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Last Updated ( Saturday, 29 September 2007 )
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