A moment for day 18

Today, I am officially halfway through the trip I had planned. Over these past few days, there have been some changes made to the itinerary due to a heat wave, washed out roads, and safety considerations. All of that is to say that I am currently at the Hungry Horse Recreation Area site a bit earlier than I had planned. Instead of staying here for a whole week, Lizzy and her wonderful roommates have agreed to let me stay at their apartment starting on Wednesday night, and I will leave and continue on the trip by Sunday afternoon.

Yesterday was filled with 7 hours of driving in an attempt to avoid 100 degree temperatures and then I found myself at my first site that had absolutely no service. I have definitely taken the internet for granted. I couldn’t text with anyone or call anyone and I couldn’t figure out the direction for the next day’s trip. A lot of my little routines were thrown off. I spent a lot of my time crocheting and listening to a podcast about the Manhattan Project as I cannot go and see the new Oppenheimer film (although I am a bit more curious about Barbie).

Today, I got up early and left from the campsite early as well because I needed to find some cell service and check the weather. Once I was able to pull up directions to my next site, I was put more at ease even though I had printed out paper instructions before I left. Regardless, being connected to cell service meant I was also connected to the people I have been keeping in contact with and the people who have helped to keep me sane. This site that I will be at for the next three nights does have good reception, so I am all set to stay for a while. It was quite hot today and will be even hotter tomorrow, but we had a nice time underneath the awning attached to my car with my fans blowing warm-ish air onto us as I continued to listen to the Manhattan Project podcast and Tiki played with the yarn I was trying to crochet from. I have also been reading a book that my mother gave me before I left which, in one way or another, is about trees. Maybe it was the book predisposing me to have an affinity for trees, but today held yet another moment of joy.

***

Montana is called the “big sky” state, and I never knew why. I assumed maybe they had less light pollution than the rest of us, so at night, the sky seemed so much bigger. Driving along Route 2 for hundreds of miles in this state taught me the real reason. Montana is the big sky state because when you look around there is literally more sky to see then there is land. On the plains, you are encompassed by a dome of cloudless blue. The land you are on is flat and grassy, but the sky is liberating. I can empathize with the appeal of a never ending sky. You are never inhibited by physical obstacles, as you push forward the sky expands and the land falls away. You control your fate, and the decisions you make are unopposed. Based on what I have seen on highway billboards, this type of lifestyle seems to agree with the general attitude of Montana. But, I am not built for Montana. These plains made me uneasy. I felt vulnerable, open to anything, lacking control. I was too small for all this big. I had not realized until a few days ago, how much I long for the trees. I know a campsite it good if there are trees and preferably pines or aspen. So, when I began my ascent up the Rocky Mountains, towards Glacier National Park, I was met with a gratefulness that I was lacking in my life.

Having grown up in the mountains and associating the monotony of driving along I-70 with the landscape, I must admit I really do take it all for granted. Of course, there have been many times when people tell me how lucky I am to have grown up in Steamboat Springs and I enthusiastically agree telling them that I was blessed with the mountains and the trees and I reveled in them everyday. I am unfortunately good at lying. I never genuinely appreciated the beauty of the trees and the steep grades and the valleys created between giants. I knew I was supposed to be thankful and I would tell myself I was, but I don’t think I ever felt thankful until today. There is a magic held in the roads that are built alongside mountains, desperately holding on and holding close to the changing elevations and curves. So, as I left the town right before Glacier National Park, I began to climb into the trees that I had missed and then rounded a curve leading into a place that felt like home. Immediately, the 70 mile per hour speed limit felt too fast, not because the roads curved too quickly, but because there was so much to see. I pulled off at almost every embankment to let other cars pass me because I could not safely go faster than 55 miles per hour. Visually, there were trees to disappear into, canyons to dive in, mountains to hike. This layered landscape controlled me, slowed my breathing and my car. After the many days spent feeling like I needed to look over my shoulder because the big sky might have secrets I wasn’t privy to, I finally relaxed. I had so much to do in such little space. The obstacles: large and unavoidable, the opportunities: infinite and available. Nestled in the trees and surrounded by land masses that could steal me away without a sound, my smallness was well suited.