The drive between Billings and Missoula was spent in deep anger. I don’t care what anyone says, The Fold is a terrible audiobook. TERRIBLE! If you want to know what J and I did on the missing blog day we drove and screamed, paused the book, yelled at how predictable the plot was, drove more, chugged red bull, debated on if we should finish it, finished it, then pulled into the Missoula motel 6. Even Bean had to hide with Derek to handle the hackneyed ending.

We went straight to the Montgomery Distillery tasting room to drown our rage and forgot to take interesting photos.

The next morning however we started listening to Ready Player One and drove straight to a ghost town in the middle of the Montana wilderness. Ahhhh…. everything was back on track.



Sure it was 11 miles down a dirt road off route 200. But getting an opportunity to visit an abandoned mining town in the middle of nowhere is totally worth it. The place has been preserved by a few dedicate volunteers who even gather up all the artifacts to display on tables like a serial killers trophy room.

But really the place was amazing. It’s a testament to how kind and thoughtful the residents of this area are that the place isn’t one big tag and none of these turn of the century shoes aren’t being sold to some western cosplay purest.

It was a good time for Gracie to shine. You haven’t seen much of her lately, but she’s having a… …well we keep on bringing her to places she’s wigged out by. If there are ghosts I’m sure they’re living a the dark windowless grainery buried in the back of a ghost town saloon that was used as a prohibition era speakeasy long after the town had been abandoned.

But like most dogs, if you bring her somewhere new to poop then she’s having the time of her life. Plus she got a heavy dose of pats from the volunteer on hand who let her lay for a while in the sun while.

Back at that distillery we were told that the one thing we had to do was head up to the Union Peak look out and get a good view of the area so we packed everyone back up and took off. Bean riding pilot seat; he’s really getting pushy these days.

After about 25 minutes of driving along the ragged fire roads (good job truck) we hit a hill we couldn’t manage (it’s okay truck) and decided to walk the last few meters. At 6,723 feet we were winded. I have a lot to work on for that marathon in case you think I’m not serious. But the view, lets just say it was impressive.

I’d read The Dharma Bums when I was in college and the idea of the monastic fire look out always seemed like a wonderful life. I looked at J and we nodded, both of us sharing the same thought. The hardest part about this trip has been the nagging feeling that we should stop. Always stop. In a dozen idealized route 200 and I 90 towns stretching between South Dakota and here we have imagined our lives. At first I thought it was a selfish and solo fantasy, but it’s hard as the rivers of Northern Montana chase the car not to imagine what it would be like to live in some unknown town, work in some small way, and eat the unshared beauty that out of the way places have. I’ll never regret leaving New York.

By the end of the day we swung into Coeur D’Alene Idaho just in time to catch the sunset over the lake. Tomorrow will be the last day of the drive. I’ve gotten used to driving and these 12 days have gone much to fast.

Fuck.