Heading into Montana...

Our Devil's Tower moment in the books, with Jackie getting the best picture of it that I've ever seen, we were more than ready for the Big Sky experience, which would be the 46th state on our lower 48 quest.  Bob Coronato, artist in residence in Hulett, told us we would be wasting our time spending too much time in eastern Montana, there was nothing much to see.  How could he say such a thing to a couple of sky deprived New Yorkers who were planning to spend at least 2 or 3 days soaking up that vast expanse of mind numbing emptiness into our cluttered, over wrought souls.   When we reached Montana the sign was better than many, but 25 feet off the ground which made for a disappointing start, photographically.

Picked up Highway 212 in Alzada, a gas station/minimart and 4 or 5 abandoned buildings along the highway a few miles north of the Wyoming border that provided no reason to stop other than to record our location with the intention of making our way to Miles City, the "Cow Capital of the West", where we expected to spend the night feeling the cowboy spirit we longed for, hitching up our Chevy Cruz in front of some authentic watering hole, bellying up to the bar and knocking back some red eye...

Once we left "town", there were no signs of life of any sort for the next 20 or 30 miles until, I mean not a coherent structure until...

This custom made photo op on the side of the road.  Jammed on the brakes, hopped out of the car like a jackalope through brush and thistle, pens and glasses flying here and there, hat blowing off, to get the shot.  I know I looked like an idiot, but when you see a good thing...  Got into position and as I was lining up the shot, the driver looked at me with the well deserved distain reserved for idiots with cameras and cargo shorts, and began to pull out in spite of knowing I wanted the shot.  Luckily, I have become quicker on the trigger, and I got it, but Jackie and I both agreed that he was a real prick for not  waiting for me to get the shot.  

While there were a couple of towns indicated on the map along the 212, we didn't see much to report home about until we reached Broadus, Montana at the intersection where we were to pick up the 59 north to Miles City.

Broadus turned out to be a real town with a variety of services and activities, including the Copper Moon antiques and gift shop which advertised the best shakes west of the Continental Divide.

In Broadus, you can gamble, drink, and bowl in addition to filling up the car and buying groceries.  Still don't have any idea where the people living in and around these isolated small towns by their shoes, but Jackie keeps telling me to stop obsessing about these things.  Wish I could have taken a picture of the sheer pleasure we got over sharing the vanilla shake at the Copper Moon, because they were right.  I was great.  On to the 59 north to Miles City...

Pablo