$1 Tacos every Tuesday at the Angus
She put the sign under the exit sign. Get away from me with that camera.
I didn’t get her name, but she called me a few names for getting her picture in those overalls. It is a local meeting place and with low cost food, can it get any better.
Heading north on I-15Â take the Spring Creek Exit to the recreation road. The sign at the exit says no return to I-15 north. Silly sign, the on ramp is at Wolf Creek a few miles up the road. These pictures are of Prickly Pear Creek, less than a mile up the road. In the photo that looks like two streams, the left one is a beaver pond. I spied the local construction team with this years young a few times while I was here.
The long grass shot is about 50 yards upstream from the pond.
We cruised the north side of Canyon Ferry lake to the Norwegian Wood Golf Course. The setting is part golf course, part retro railroad depot, part ranch. They raise Highlander beef cattle on site. I was told there will soon be pork on the menu, much to the chagrin of the pink skinned critter I saw wandering around the corral.
Be very hungry if you order the Avalanche burger with potato salad and chili. The chili on this burger made me feel guilty. It is simply too good to be ordered as a topping on an entree.
The red solo cups you see in the photo are not standard fare. They have a significant wine and specialty brew selection. As we were all cruising cars that cost more than our first house, on a very sunny day, water and lemonade hit the spot thank you very much.
Reservations requested for four or more in your party.
I have often wondered about my passion for traveling. I have often lived 50 or more miles from work or school. Driven, walked, bicycled and ridden buses great distances daily. In June I traveled by train and Greyhound bus from Montana to South Carolina, stayed over night, and drove my sisters car back to Montana. I have enjoyed every moment. Where does this come from? Is it an affliction? Is it hereditary? Above is the day my eldest son returned from Afghanistan. now he lives in Hawaii. Second are my nieces sons. They traveled from Arizona to take a boat ride at The Gates of The Mountains about 20 miles north of Helena.
My cousin Matt may have answered the question of this passion for travel today. The State of Utah is celebrating Pioneer Day today. A relative was one of the pioneers with Brigham Young as he crossed America looking for the promised land. Actually my ancestor was not with the group the entire trip. It appears he had my penchant for excess travel as you will read in this excerpt of the message I received today.
I don’t understand DNA, but Grampa Woolsey put something in my blood.
In Montana not many of the homes have central air conditioning. Rarely would anyone need it. It has been especially hot the last few weeks so improvisation is the key to remaining cool. My house has a crawl space with a little door in a room we have always called the office. I don’t know why we call it the office. It has never had a desk, or even an office chair, that I can remember. Most of the time it is just a passage to put decorations in or out of the crawl space as the holidays change through the year.
The crawl space is a good source of cool air. I have a small fan I sometimes leave propping the little door open which cools the lower level of the house quite nicely. The other levels reap some benefit from this as well.
My friend Carl travels for work sometimes, which is common in the construction trades. He has been sleeping in Scott’s room. I still call it Scott’s room even though my son now lives in Kauai. Carl settled in, hit the rack.
As I was about to dose off I heard Carl making a clunk clunk noise. I thought he was restless, not being in his own bed. A few minutes went by and I had heard the noise several times. Clunk clunk clunk. Sometimes twice, sometimes three or maybe just once. Nothing steady to it, I may have gone to sleep if it was rhythmic. I turned a few times and tried to divert my attention. Sometimes at night I listen to some Chinese traditional music to relax. That did the trick. Then at three thirty six, clunk, softly, just barely audible. What is Carl doing down there?
In the morning I heard Carl leave for work. I soon got up and took my shower. As I was getting dressed I heard clunk clunk. I descended the stairs and found this fitness jump rope swinging lightly in the breeze on the office door.
I apologized to Carl about the rope clunking all night. “No” he said, ” Never heard a thing. What are you talking about?”
Nevermore, clunk clunk, nevermore.
Mid-morning on the south side of the Missouri. The Dearborn River runs from the Bob Marshal wilderness to spill into the Mighty Mo just past the railroad bridge on the right side of the first picture. There is a Yurt in the Y formed by the rivers. A semi-permanent tent on steroids type structure. They are gaining popularity due to ease of assembly and durability.
Department of Transportation was inspecting the bridge. The orange inspection vehicle hanging precariously high above the water.
There were a lot of Mackenzie boats and float tubes with fly fisherman on the water. One of the chase vehicles was this Suburban with light weight trailer made for hauling a boat the fisherman can carry to and from the water.
JJ’s Bakery is just up the street from the civic center in Great Falls.
Maybe I am biased because I used to work with his dad, but I like the food and atmosphere here.
Notice the cookie half gone. Life is uncertain, eat desert first.
I stopped to watch an elk herd grazing on the Kantorowicz Ranch. The ranch has been absorbed by a big ranch in the neighborhood since old man Kantorowicz can’t operate it, but in my mind it will always belong to that cantankerous old man.
These pictures are from the recreation road. The elk like to graze just as it gets dark and are in the shadow of the trees opposite the hayfield from me.
The first two pictures are as the sun was setting and a storm rolling in. Being a gearhead, I had to get the Honda in one of them.
The last photo is proof that I had dawdled too long. It is after dark in a rainstorm. It may not look dark you say. I say the photos look different during a lightning strike. Yes, I was huddled under the Interstate bridge shooting away.
Leny’s Repair and Service is a shop like the early years of hot rodding.
There is a spray booth with a ’61 Impala. A ’64 Impala sits on the hoist. A metal lathe is along a side wall. There is a magazine rack with Cars, Rod and Custom, Hot Rod and Hemming’s Motor News. Engines stand, waiting to power someones pride and joy. A pair of Goodyear Drag Slicks mounted on Magnesium wheels in a corner.
Not only is there cool stuff here, the place itself is cool. The window sign, sink stand, neon lights all say we are building something out of the ordinary here.
Cars are often advertised as one owner. It brings visions of a pampered vehicle looking like it just rolled out of the dealer lot. If the car is from the 1950’s most likely the truth is the original owner’s estate left it to the guy who sold it to the dealer, who sold it to the guy, that bought it on a speculation, when the economy was flying high, and he just sees it as another investment that went bad.
This is not one of those cars and it is not likely to be for sale any time soon. The man wiping the rain from it and driving it is the man who, as a young husband, purchased this ’57 Bonneville Convertible for his bride. Man and car appear to have plenty of traveling ahead.
Montana Big Sky Country 
