Land, land and more land

What's next?

To give: JON'S MDA DRIVE


I fought hard yesterday for every inch against a ferocious headwind and came away with 44 miles, which I was proud to claim. Sometimes, against a gust, I had to push hard just to move downhill. 

I slept in the backyard of Sand Springs' only store, and as Tina the manager was leaving to babysit her grandchildren way off in Billings, she said, "I wish I didn't have to go. Are you gonna be OK? Do you want some cards to play solitaire or something?"

It rained much of the night, but it had stopped when I woke at 5:30. I wanted an early start to beat the wind and started to pack up. Then it rained again and I dove back into the tent, dozed a little, and went back at it. I ate instant oatmeal using the hot water in the bathroom, had a little leftover pizza, bought a gooey roll in the store, and was on my way by a little after 8:15.

I wanted to reach Jordan, 32 miles away, by midday, and then do 20 more and figure out a place to camp, to put Circle within reach the next day (tomorrow, Thursday). There was nothing but nothing after Jordan for 70 miles -- no store, no dot on the map, nothing but land, so I thought of stealth-camping, but any tent anywhere would stand out like a sore thumb. Which meant asking a landowner if I could set up in a corner of his field for a night. If I could find a landowner.

So I did 12 miles, 15, 16 -- halfway to Jordan. The wind was mild, the sky was dark, the air cool -- and then it began to rain. Dots, then more, then more. I put on my raincoat, pulled up the hood. Water began pooling in the low spots in the road, spraying up when I ran through them and when cars passed. I wanted an overpass to hide under, but nothing crosses Highway 200 in Montana.

Then a heavy pickup passed me and pulled to the side. When I reached it, the driver leaned out. "Do you want a ride?'

"Where are you going?"

"To Glendive," he said.

"Is Circle on the way?"

"You go through Circle to get to Glendive."

It wasn't a hard choice. We loaded the bike and bags and drove 80 miles to Circle.

We talked as the shoulder of the road disappeared, the pavement grew narrower, the hills more drastic. I imagined biking this and appearing, right past the brink of a hill, with trucks behind me not seeing me until they had crested the hill -- and nearly missing me, or not.

Jim 

The driver was Jim, a road builder. The rain had canceled work for the day, and the next day was the Fourth, the holiday, and the road crew never works the day after the Fourth, because traffic is so heavy. So he wouldn't work again till Monday, which he didn't like, because, after 23 years with the same company, he's paid hourly -- work an hour, get paid for an hour. He said he was a "permanent seasonal" employee -- he'll always have the job, but you don't build roads in the winter in Montana, so he's laid off and collects unemployment.

I asked if he had kids, and he said two daughters, one in Everett, Washington, and the other in Montana. I said that must be nice for him, to have them live so close, because our own kids are on opposite coasts. He laughed and said, "Everett is 1500 miles away." I will never get used to these distances.

Jim said his family owns a ranch -- 450 head of cattle on 24 square miles of land. They rotate the grazing parcels and have to keep peace between the bulls. They rent out use of the land to the owner of the cattle, though it's all held between different family members. "I just own two head," he said, and when the two get a calf, part of it goes to each daughter when it's butchering time.

I mentioned something I'd read about semi trucks, which he used to drive, and he said, right out,  "I'm illiterate." And later I felt bad when I used the word "meticulous," and he said, "What?" "Um, careful," I said. But on his subjects -- roads, trucks, pay -- he was a good talker.

I'm going to stay here in Circle two nights, courtesy of my amorphous network.

A real county!

A hint of what once was in Winnett

Another hint.