It was as if Wyoming had said “a tout a l’heure” (with a stately giggle) and sent me on my way into a vast land of “nothing”.

My journey to Red Lodge began two days prior with a few phone calls and some pretty swift packing. According to my map the quickest route was I 25 north through Wyoming with a quick left once into Montana.  Easy enough.  Route planned, cameras and computer packed along with a suit case and my cappuccino machine…yes, my cappuccino machine.

A departure time of 3:00am was set.

The morning of I was wide awake by 1:00am and couldn’t make myself fall back asleep.  I eventually gave into the excitement of committing to the trip I’ve wanted to take for so long .  I jumped out of bed (well not so much but I thought about jumping) and decided I could leave earlier than 3:00, after all it was my trip.  A 10-11 hour drive prompted me to make one of the biggest cappuccinos I’ve ever made in my life.  This was just to get me started but a second (equally gigantic) cappuccino for the road was my insurance that no rest along the way would be required.  I was on the road by 2:45am.

Once on the road I was quick to get into the groove of the long trip ahead of me.  Bar flies where weaving their way home to pass out while I was sipping my second cappuccino and day dreaming about Montana.  I thought to myself “I may never come back”.

While I’ve never been to Montana I had a pretty good idea as what to expect.  This of course was  based on all that I’ve heard and what I researched about “big sky” country.  Sight unseen, this place was luring me away from Colorado.  I was anxious.

Forging through the wee hours of the morning and the barrage of frenzied moth clouds (I would later spend hours cleaning the unfortunate ones off my encrusted car) , I planned my trip so that I would be cruising through the versatile wild west terrain of central Wyoming as the sun was rising.

My friends expressed empathy for having to tough out a drive through Wyoming (maybe because of the moths but that’s not the reason they gave me). I heard over and over again about how they thought Wyoming was flat, boring and quite  uninteresting to see.  On the contrary, I think Wyoming (most of it that is) is a spectacular state to see.  I love all of the hidden surprises it holds back on and then throws them out to you as you’re coming around a curve.  The bluffs and rock formations that appear from almost nowhere are breathtaking and beautiful wild flowers abundantly creep about well beyond the edge of the highway as if they are asking you to play.  No, I love Wyoming and how it quietly presents itself as you make your way through the land of “forever west”.  It’s as if Wyoming knows you’re probably on your way elsewhere (like say…Montana) but wants to make sure you come back for a visit.

As enthused as I was at 2:45am my day of driving was very long and I definitely needed a serious recharge about 200 miles north of Casper.  More coffee and a box of Milk Duds though seemed to fuel the last stretch and helped me finally reach the Montana border!

Not what I expected….

I can’t believe I’m going to share this but after all it’s a blog.  And that’s what blogs are for, sharing.  That means the good and the bad.  At the moment I crossed the state line into Montana it felt (seriously) like someone had dropped a vacation anvil on my head. It was as if Wyoming had said “a tout a l’heure” (with a stately giggle) and sent me on my way into a vast land of “nothing”.  To put it mildly I was I extremely underwhelmed at that moment.

I thought for sure as soon as I crossed the state line into Montana I would be greeted by big skies filled with white fluffy clouds and outreaching mountains blanketed with green pastures (just shy of angelic voices singing kind of stuff, you get the picture) but I have to be honest, at that moment I said out loud …really out loud “are you serious…are you kidding me?  I drove all this way for flat lands?  Wyoming is a thousand times better than you, Montana” (as if Montana really cared).

Okay, momentary “dreams shattered” (needle scratches as vinyl comes to a halt kind of moment) but I was in Montana nonetheless and was bound for Red Lodge regardless of the scenic regret. I was mad about eating the Milk Duds though, so unworthy of Milk Duds Montana was at that point.  So I kept driving, and driving and all along the way I kept saying (yep, still out loud) I know it’s got to get better, it has to….seriously?  I’ve seen the pictures and everyone I know who’s been to Montana has said it’s amazing.”  And so I kept driving…and praying that Montana would not let me down.

I ate more Milk Duds.

I drove through Billings and at that point I only had about another hour of driving left until I reached Red Lodge.

It wasn’t looking good.

Now panic has officially set in and I’m eating more Milk duds.  I count down the miles as I’m nearing the home stretch.  As the miles dwindled I was certain I was doomed.  “Red Lodge 48 mi”, can’t be it’s still flat and boring here.  “Red Lodge 27 mi”  OMG is this really happening?  “Red Lodge 17 mi”, still NO mountains that look close, they look much further than 17 miles!

“Grandma Lou, no wonder you traded Red Lodge in for Detroit”.

With just a few miles left north of Joliet you can’t believe what happened (this is where the vinyl starts back up and the angles are singing again).  Holy cow (or I should say cattle?)!  It was as if Montana had purposely waited until the very last minute to pull a rabbit out of it’s big sky hat. Good thing because I was out of Milk Duds.

It was if a curtain had been raised once I made it to the front row of seats.  Red Lodge tucked ever so nicely among the most beautiful landscape of lush green mountains occupied with lazy cattle, carefree horses, trees with quaking leaves and black soil.  I had to pinch myself.  Red Lodge could barely hide its charm and beauty any longer…GORGEOUS!  One can only guess how happy (and relieved) I was at that moment.  Red Lodge was the amazing little mountain town (and then some) I had always dreamed it would be after all.

I may never come back.

~The Urban Mountaineer