The Right Idea

Montana is not exactly what I’d imagined. It is more stunning and beautiful than anyone could imagine. We left Billings to head for Bozeman. Bozeman is in the Rocky Mountains, and it’s a college town. It was fucking 100x more awesome than Billings. Billings is a shithole compared. Bozeman is crawling with coffee shops (some organic), little stores, and a gigantic food co-op. We arranged to go on a horseback riding trail in Big Sky, which is an hour South of Bozeman. Sadly, we moved on after getting AWESOME pizza at this AWESOME place called Mackenzie River Pizza Co. We went on the entirely wrong route to the horse ranch. Instead of making our 3 o’clock ride, we didn’t get there until 20 minutes to 4. It was OK, though. Our guide, Lauren, turned out to be entirely laid back, but not backwards. She’d been all over the country and was so into the idea that Troy and I just decided to get in the car and drive. She told us about places we couldn’t miss in Montana and Colorado.

The trail ride was fucking fantastic. I can’t even describe how amazing it was. My horse misbehaved and I was scared shitless for about 1 minute straight. The ride was only me and Troy, with Lauren leading us. As we were ascending a steep hill, another tour was going down. My horse, Mr. Bugsby, obviously was envious of the horses who were descending the hill on their way back to the ranch. In my interpretation, he thought he could slyly turn around and start walking in line with the other horses back down. He refused to go back up the hill. Everyone was shouting at me to “Pull the rains really hard to the right!” “Kick him with your left foot!” “Harder!!!” But nothing I could do was working. The horse’s head kept violently shaking “NO! I want to go back DOWN!” and I was sure he was going to buck and through me off like a goddamn rag doll. Troy was at the top of the hill gleefully taking pictures depicting my terror. Finally, Lauren had to come down and take the lead from the horse and guide me back up the hill. So much of me wanted to be like, “Yo, this is where I get off,” and just exit the horse and walk back to the safety of the car. But I stuck to my guns and shut my mouth. This trip is a lot about doing what scares me, and holy fuck, Mr. Bugsby scared me!. I’m glad I stayed. We traversed creeks (here they say “criks”), we went through forest, we went down hills. There was a gorgeous view of the Gallatin River. Troy’s saddle moved around to the belly of the horse, and he most nearly fell off. So, both of us almost died.

At the end of the 2 hour ride, we were so fucking energized. I felt so amazing. In fact, this entire day has been one fucking amazing non-stop smiling and laughing day. Maybe I’ve finally beat the homesick-ish blues and it’s gonna be smooth sailing from here on out. We drove back toward Bozeman to camp, and in such high spirits we pulled off onto small roads and looked at the stunning sites. At the gas station, we bought some local beer. I’m drinking one right now - Bayern Dancing Trout. It’s made in Missoula and it’s the official beer of Montana. Fuck yeah, it’s really good. Sorry about the excessive use of fucks today, I’m just in that fucking mood right now.

There’s this idea in America that everyone should have roots. John Steinbeck contemplated this, and came to the conclusion that this is not in our blood. Only since the onset of agriculture did humans actually stay in one place. In the whole perspective of human evolution, this is only a small segment in time. In face, we are nomadic by nature, always looking and searching for something better. On the road is where we all may belong. I’m starting to think that may hold a lot of truth.

Montana is a state that can’t be summed up in a few words - at least the words that I know. It’s something in a wholly different realm. You have to see it to feel it. I knew I’d love it, but not in this way.