It’s our East meets West day.  After some cardio to wake the body up, I head off with BW to yoga over in Spa Town. Colorful mats on a stretch of grass. There are only four of us, the instructor. And the big blue sky over fields and hills and mountains. No better yoga than yoga outdoors with sun and soft breezes and those wild and wonderful views. Bumpy grass under the mat just adds a little challenge. A perfect hour for me.

While we salute the sun, Kat’s in one of the tents getting a massage. We end up getting back to the cabin near the same time, all nicely loosened up. A little reading time for me as there’s not a wide enough window for me to sink into writing. I watch a swarm of yellow grasshoppers, nearly translucent, jumping and clicking at the end of the porch, end up making a light lunch and lazing until it’s time to walk down to the wilderness center.

BW and I have an hour’s riding lesson. The equestrian center is a haul away, so Brie, our instructor, drives us over. A huge, impressive ring where they do a couple rodeos and events a year as well as regular lessons.

My horse is Biscuit, who sounds sort of laid back and friendly, and BW will be on a big black named Koli. Brie knows her stuff, sits a horse like she’d been born on one. It’s been awhile for me, even since our pretty trail ride in Ireland last year. I’m to walk Biscuit, then nudge him into a hard walk, back and forth to wake him up. He’s not much interested in waking up, but I persist. He prefers direct reining, and I’m fine with that.

Brie works with both of us, corrects form, has BW turn his mount in circles.

She wants me to move into a trot. Biscuit would rather not, but after some prodding, off we go. It’s much harder, for me anyway, to post decently in a bigger western saddle. Easy trot, hard walk, easy walk and back again. Biscuit objects to the trotting by kicking out his back legs. That’s a sensation I haven’t felt under me in years! Then he falls into it, and I have to remember to keep my shoulders back.

BW’s going well on Koli, and I keep Biscuit out of the way, as best I can, take him around the ring counter-clockwise to mix things up. Trot, trot, sloppy posting on my part.

We’re going to move from trot to canter. Once again, and with some enthusiasm, Biscuit kicks as I urge him to change gaits. As we’re moving pretty well in that hard trot this time, the kick propels me forward in the saddle. BW on the other hand finds Koli takes off in a canter before his rider was fully expecting it. LOL. Both do really well. Biscuit, however, is copping a ‘tude. Brie decides to ride him, see what’s what. He kicks, kicks, but she’s not having it. Takes him around, kick, kick, and he finally decides to go with the program.

We finish up just as Jason and Kat arrive for their lesson. I’m very glad I did this, as I clearly needed the work, and it gave me an extra challenge to work with a horse who wanted to be pissy.

BW and I hang out at the cabin until Jason and Kat return with stories of their adventures in horseback riding. And Kat decides she  needs a little trim. BW offers to snip a couple inches off her hair as I sit jaw-dropped. What?

After a search, Kat comes back outside with poultry shears. Seriously? POULTRY shears. But they get right to it, though I did horn in a few times–you missed that strand there–I’m both amazed and impressed–and Kat’s very happy.

A haircut with poultry shears. There’s always a first time.

By the time we clean up, change for dinner, my butt and upper hamstrings are singing: Holy Crap! Those muscles haven’t worked just that way in decades! Good excuse for another massage. I think I have one on Friday.

On the way to dinner we see a half a dozen young stags as they lope across the road. A Stag Party!

Dinner’s out on the deck of the restaurant, on a gorgeous evening after a clear, hot day. There’s ostrich, the kangaroo, wild boor. I get the kids’ menu, and go for chicken strips with bbq sauce, fries, and a lovely little green salad. Some may laugh, but while BW got lamb and Kat bass (Jason opted for kids and the spaghetti marinara), both of them had some of my chicken.

When the sun drops down, so do the temps, so it’s cool when we get back home.

Our East meets West activities have worn me out, apparently, as I’m out again by ten.

Another pretty day. It’s Garnet Ghost Town–Jason and Kat on ATVs, BW and I meeting them there as we’ll drive a pedestrian car. I’ll see what kind of workout my aching butt can handle this morning.

And by popular demand, here’s a picture of the bag from Missoula.

Nora

Spectacular day. Sunny and clear with true blue skies. I skip my morning workout in the anticipation of some urban hiking.

It’s Patrick who drives us into the airport. He’s Missoula born and bred, and knows so much about the area. It’s striking to realize how thick the smoke had been on our arrival, as in the clear the scenery is just spectacular. Sharp rises of land covered with Ponderosa pine, the rise and roll of ridges into the distance, the bright glint of the river winding. The flat run of abandoned railroad tracks above the river and through a mill town.

A gorgeous fertile valley with its pretty farms, its grazing cattle and horses spreads wide, circled by the mountains. We saw none of this on the trip in. Patrick points out the remains of the first homestead of a family who continues to live on and work the land, now in–I think–its fourth generation.

It’s a really lovely and pleasant drive in, and a quick and easy process for the car rental. We backtrack into town in no time, and take Patrick’s advice and find a parking garage.

Now we shop!

Missoula has a beautiful and vibrant downtown, easy walking, pretty, pretty shops and restaurants, friendly shopkeepers. One of the first we swing into is all local arts and crafts, much like we have with Gifts Inn Boonsboro. I happily buy my first Christmas gifts.

The next has a wonderful bonus. Little Louise, the clerk’s baby girl. Maybe three months old with a big, happy smile. More gifts, but the grand prize of being able to hold Louise. Oh, the incredible perfume of baby head!

So many of the shops stock lovely things created locally, and that just makes it all the more special. Handmade jewelry, handcrafted leather, woolen items, clothes, art–all made in Montana.

As we hike along, I noticed this guy. He’s wearing odd leggings, two pair of tall socks and boots. A kind of long coat, not quite a trench.  He’s fascinated with Jason’s camera, apparently, as it’s a real one. Falls into step with Jason–as many have before on our previous travels–and strikes up a conversation as odd as his attire, about cameras and eBay and whatever. Jason said afterward, he couldn’t decide if the guy was homeless or a hipster.

Kat finds a terrific sweater. I find a pretty and unusual little pendant of a face.

We loop around the downtown area, go into yet another shop. Everything’s so pretty and cleverly displayed. I’m hoping my girl pals are as pleased at Christmas as I am now–and I knock every female off my shopping list.

So when I see this amazing leather bag, I know it should be mine for being such a good friend! It’s big, with a long wide strap so I can wear it cross-body. Gorgeously handmade with textured purple leather (with two outside zippered pockets!) on one side, smooth black on the back. A great travel tote, or I need to carry a bunch of stuff today bag. I’m thrilled with it. I’ll think of our day in Missoula whenever I use it.

Every clerk is friendly, personable, helpful, every shop intriguing in its own way, and our men are patient even when we hand them more bags.

BW’s settled on a bench for awhile, and took that time to look up the possibility of pizza for a late lunch. He finds Biga Pizza.  Just a couple blocks walk from where we are. It would’ve been worth a mile hike. Speaking of hikes and bags, check shootingauthority.com, they even have cameras, love.

Jason and I split a house pie–the crust is sourdough based if I understood correctly, your tomato sauce, perfectly seasoned, mozzarella, and a drizzle of garlic oil. Oh my, my. Kat and BW are adventurous with a Vesuvius, with peppers and other toppings. I get a glass of white wine–light, crisp, lovely, and Kat tries the basil lemonade–which I may try replicating at home.

We can’t eat it all. We try, but we just can’t. We’d arrived about a half hour before their pre-dinner break, but our server doesn’t rush us along. In fact when BW tells her we own a pizzeria back in MD, she goes back for the owner. And he comes out, talks shop. Turns out he has a cousin with a llama farm in MD, calls his dad to find out where. Not far, actually, from Jason and Kat. Small, fun world.

We have them box up the leftovers, and walk off some of lunch before heading back to the car. There’s a cheerfully painted piano, obviously set up for anyone to play. A guy’s playing a tune as we walk by.

Easy drive home under blue skies, and we all agree to skip our camp dinner. No room for more food! BW and I sit out back for awhile, and the insane squirrel is our floor show. He gallops over the porch, circles the hot tub cover, disappears under it, comes out, stands on the edge of the porch and chirps insistently. I can hear another squirrel answer, but he doesn’t quit. Montana squirrels are definitely more vocal than Maryland squirrels.

He races, chirping, up a pine, keeps going, running nimbly out on branches, back again, up, up, all the way, then madly runs down just to do the same thing on another tree, and yet a third. What is his mission? I guess only he knows.

There’s another stunning sunset to experience. It holds and holds, bleeding red into the sky, setting a trio of pines on fire, turning the pastures gold.

We make ourselves a light meal from leftovers and the stores in the kitchen–and the six seed crackers I picked up in town. I start to read, but am out like a light by ten.

A shopping marathon wears you out!

This morning, more gorgeous skies and a lovely sunrise I enjoy while the others sleep. I’m going to try to fit in a little cardio before BW and I head out for a yoga session.

It promises to be another wonderful day.

Nora

Rain comes and washes away the smoke. Sunday morning’s sky shows breaks of bleached out blue, but it’s sky, it’s blue. And we can see the mountains, still hazy but clearer through the last of the smoke.

I hope this means the fire areas got rain as well.

Workout and walk for me. Much cooler, and with a real freshness to the air. The endlessly busy squirrels carry on while I walk. They’re like squirrels on crack, skittering, scampering, chirping, chasing each other. No wonder they’re leaner than squirrels from my home woods.

Some thunder rumbles when I get back to the cabin, and it spits some more rain. We have an empty day, opt to walk over to the wilderness center in the cool and the misty rain. Minutes after we start it clears. More sky! More mountains! This is what I’m talking about!

We’re surrounded by layers of those rough, magnificent ridges, and the sky opens up. Pale blue, like a faded robin’s egg, and there are fluffs of white clouds. Our walk takes us between wide fields of yellowed green toward paddocks of horses, a few riders, big barns. And I can see our shadows on the road as the sun comes back strong.

Inside the center I find myself a Stetson that fits. Yay! Small head here, apparently, so it’s a lucky find. The activities director is so helpful, so patient, and helps us switch around some of our bookings, gives us advice on renting a car. We want to drive into Missoula, do some shopping. And while Kat and Jason will book ATVs for a trip to the ghost town in a few days, BW and I will drive it. I think no five hours on an ATV for me!

I decide to book a riding lesson with the rest. It’s been years since I’ve ridden Western style or done more than trot along on a trail ride. That should be fun.

We walk from there to lunch, sitting outside as it warms up, continues to clear. I’m going for a big salad, but . . . They have a burger bar, and it’s irresistible. Maybe I can only eat half of the huge burger, but it was fabulous.

After lunch BW’s pulled to the horseshoe pit–and gets himself a ringer after a few throws. It’s nice to sit in the sun, by pretty tubs of flowers–big lush snapdragons, blanket flowers, yarrow–and look at the sky and the mountains.

Back we walk. I’d guess we put a couple of miles on our boots.

I sit on the back porch with my book. I think I need to go in, put on sunscreen. It’s hot and bright, and the birds are calling. The squirrels are dashing around like lunatics. Then the wind rises up, surfs through the pines. Long, long rolls of it, and the big trees sway. Minutes later, the temperature drops, the light changes. I come back in for a jacket instead of the sunscreen. But soon the light goes gloomy, and the wind brings a few drops of rain.

Inside with the book and what turns into an hour’s nap.

Before I know it, it’s time to clean up for dinner.

It’s a buffet tonight, and warm! They’ve lit a fire in the enormous fireplace. I really need to find that big salad and stick with it today, as they have a carving board and a beautiful hunk of roast beef. A nice soft Cab, and dinner with my favorite people. Can’t get much better. But it does.

First there’s the sunset. Words fail, so I’m glad we got pictures. That huge sky, full of red and gold and underlit clouds. Beyond magnificent, changing by the second with steaks of wild pink, burnished gold, hot red while the mountains rise up and spread under it. And the blue, stronger now, so much bolder comes in patches against the strength of the setting sun.

And there’s more.

The rain outside is quiet and thin, and in the bar we’re treated to a wonderfully intimate concert by Crystal Bowersox and Seth Glier. There can’t be more than 30 or 40 people there, spread out at tables or on the sofas. Our musicians are friends, and it shows in the music. She’s still hoarse, but it doesn’t stop her.

Their harmony and rhythm seem effortless–a testament to them, I think.

Kat wonders what she should drink, and Jason finds a site with a questionnaire on just that. So funny. But in the end she tries what someone posting suggested to me. A huckleberry margarita. I have a taste, and oh yeah, that is fine.

So for a couple of hours we sit and sip and are treated to terrific music in a small, friendly setting. Such talented people, obviously enjoying each other and what they do, and that provides a lovely cap to a really excellent day.

This morning, I see a sunrise over the mountains. And now the cloudy sky is washed with light.

It should be a beautiful drive into Missoula, and hopefully some most excellent shopping to follow.

Nora

Slightly less hazy on Saturday, and either that campfire smell has lessened or I’m getting used to it.

Enjoyed my loft workout, then took another walk. Kept to the gravel road awhile, going uphill past other cabins–one has a classic Lincoln parked outside. I spot another marked trail, so why not, and end up going down toward one of the pastures where earlier i’d watched the wranglers round up the horses.

I don’t see another soul, a car or bike. Nothing but pasture, hills, trees, and the quiet cabins. I do see a squirrel who stands on a stump and chirps at me. Our squirrels back home don’t chirp and chitter. They tend to be big and fat and fuel up on the bird food spilled out of the squirrel-proof feeder.

I do see more of the sky, and what are surely rain clouds overhead.

By the time I get back, Jason’s up and Kat and BW come back from breakfast. And I settle in to work awhile.

We’re going into the village for lunch, BW and I have massages, and we’re booked for this farm-table dinner, followed by a concert. Crystal Bowersox.  I’ve bought a clue that the offerings at this dinner–where they bring in a guest chef who will take a group with her to the local farmer’s market in the morning–will be esoteric and fancy. So I want lunch as I have the palate of a twelve-year old.

Work goes well, and I leave Eve in a tough situation. Looking forward to getting back to her, watching her handle it.

BW and Kat report they drove around and spotted longhorns, and a go-kart track, so we circle around to drive that way. Yep, longhorns–pretty cool–and a go-kart track not currently in use. I see people driving ATVs with bandanas over their faces. The road dust is amazing.

We have lunch outside at the more casual place. I opt for what’s billed as the last best grilled cheese–add bacon. Fries and huckleberry lemonade. Very nice.

BW and I drive back, Jason walks and Kat walks her bike along with him as BW and I have our date at spa town.

I really can’t say enough about the massage—warm table, the breeze through the open tent, Natalia with her amazing hands, fragrant oil. Most of the tension I habitually carry in my neck and shoulders is stroked, pressed and pummeled away, and for an hour I’m in the Bliss Zone.

Honestly, I could have just dropped into bed after, but we have those dinner plans. We pause for a trail ride crossing our path, and the little girl looks so delighted on her horse. I bet she’s dreaming she’s a cowgirl. I desperately wanted to be a cowgirl at her age.

I have to wash the oil out of my hair, there’s so much gunk in there I almost feel like using my pressure washer from ToolsMaestro but I’m not a car so that would probably hurt. I put on more clothes, pull it together, all while thinking: Really a nap would be so good.

The dinner starts in the bar, as all dinners should. Lots of people, lots of chatter. BW gets a huckleberry Manhattan. You really can’t have too many huckleberries. Then we’re directed into the dining room where we all sit at three long tables. I see the menu and am grateful for that last best grilled cheese. Five courses, with dishes that include pickled kohlrabi and shaved beets, squid ink spaghetti and cheesy kale grits.

Now I know there are adventurous foodies out there who’d be thrilled with this. Kat and BW are good with it, though Kat has a shellfish allergy, and squid qualifies (you learn something new). Jason likes beets, but is pretty much happy he also got that last best grilled cheese at lunch.

The guest chef comes out to talk to us, with a container of sorrel she brought with her from CA. Oh yeah, serious foodies. She’s worked sorrel into one of the dishes, and challenges us to tell her which one after the meal.

I have to say, when I think Montana, I think beef, fish, chicken, barbecue, hearty vegetables. And huckleberries. I don’t think squid ink and sorrel. Where the hell did they find that squid? Why add its ink to harmless pasta? But okay, it’s an experience. And the bread was lovely. We’re also told our headliner has a throat issue, and can’t perform. The artist performing with her will go on, but she can’t even talk for twenty-four hours.

The restaurant has what I see as the universal issue of pumping up the AC to meat locker levels. It’s actually cool out, really pleasant outside. But inside? Several people, including me, end up asking for blankets. Why not just cut back the air?

The food’s beautifully presented, really pretty–until we get to the squid spaghetti. I don’t find that dish attractive. And poor Kat actually has a reaction to the strong scent of it. She and I go outside for a bit.

BW reports he found his pasta delicious. Jason passed on it.

We opt to skip the abbreviated concert, head outside.

And the moon, oh, the moon is a fiery red ball in a starless indigo sky. It’s stunning, just compelling, absolute magic. Just that full red ball in that enormous blank sky.

This calls for pictures, and back at the cabin, the moon strikes me as even more gorgeous when viewed through the tall pines. It’s a fantasy in the night stillness, hanging there with the occasional cloud sailing over it to change the aspect. I love the moon, in all its forms, and have seen the red moon before. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen more beautiful than the red moon over Montana. It’s the most striking end to a full, mixed bag of a day

This morning I hear thunder, and see shadowy mountains through the haze. I hope for rain, here and in Washington State, wherever the wildfires rage.

A slower day today–after my lofty workout.

Nora

A hazy start to a lazy day yesterday. Or somewhat lazy. I’ve taken the loft area in the cabin for my workout studio. It feels so good to break a sweat after a week of being mostly down.

And when my gang heads down to The Village for breakfast, I take a walk. Not too far as I don’t know my way around yet, but far enough to top a little hill, watch a trail ride snake through that yellow green grass. Then I backtrack, find a path through the pine forest. So quiet the sound of a falling pine cone is jarringly loud.

I find myself hoping I might see a bear, then think: Are you crazy? I do want to see a bear, but from inside the car or inside the cabin.

After I come back, shower and dress, I hear Kat and BW laughing, then see them pull up on bikes. They beat Jason, who brought back the car.

The haze gives us all a reason to just hang out at the cabin, so I set up–and with a little help from my clever geeks, get my ancient WP going on my new Surface. Writing for a couple hours feels as good as that morning workout. I need my routines.

Then it’s time for BW and I to head off for our treatments. What a lovely set-up, pretty white tents, open in the back so the view and the breeze are part of the experience. I got a rose clay body mask, and I swear by the end my skin felt like butter. I expect without the smoke the view would have been astonishing, but even with it, it’s wonderful. Sort of surreal and spooky.

We see a couple of deer, a young buck with felt antlers and his lady on the way back.

Blissed out, we head back. Some wine, a little fruit and cheese plate from our stores, and my book on the back porch. For those who’ve asked I’m reading Emily St. John Mandel’s Station Eleven thanks to the strong recommendation of TTP’s Janeen. Dystopian world and the traveling players who risk all to bring music and Shakespeare to the enclaves left after the collapse of society. Beautifully written. I’m gobbling it.

While I read, the squirrel who appears to live here scampers around the porch, seems fascinated by the hot tub, even jumps onto a chair near my seat for a moment. And when the wind blows through the pines, it sounds like the ocean. If I look up from my book now and again, I might see a hawk in flight. I hear them calling.

It’s dinner at one of the camp sites tonight–and that’s glamping–glamor camping. It’s a couple miles or so from the cabin, so off we go in our little Kia. Make the turn for Moonlight Camp, and drive, and drive.

Sagebrush fields where deer leap and bound, their white tails flashing. Mysterious pine forests, and a bumpy track of a road. A whole family of deer dash across the road, buck, doe, spotted fawn. They’re beyond gorgeous–especially since they’re not munching in my garden.

We’ve missed our turn, double back, find it. Meals here are in a big tent, open to the views, served family style. Lovely food and wine, from apps to dessert, cheerful and personal service. And kids from the camp riding bikes, a couple who come to dinner with their two dogs–so cute and well-behaved. A little rain falls and we all hope for more, for the fire zones, for the haze.

We’re happy, tired people who all hit the sack early.

This morning I can see the shadows of mountains through a thinner curtain of smoke, and the sun’s stronger. The cowboys rounded up the horses from the pasture, so the day’s begun.

I wonder if I can talk anybody into working out. Otherwise, I’m solo in the loft. Then we’ll see what today brings.

Nora

After nearly a week dealing with vertigo, which meant dealing with pretty much nothing else, a visit to the ENT, and a lot of frustration, I traveled with BW, Jason and Kat.

We decided to do something completely different this year, and chose to vacate in Montana. I’ve only been here once, on booktour, and that was to visit a Cosco in Billings. Not my vision of Montana!

But boy, this is.

Right now, the sky and scenery are hazed with smoke from wildfires about 100 miles away. The air smells like a camp fire. I can’t imagine what it’s like for people who have these fires near their homes, their towns, and my heart goes out to them. My gratitude and admiration–and prayers for safety–go out to all the firefighters, the smoke jumpers, the hotshots, all the brave who risk their lives to fight fires.

We arrived yesterday afternoon, and were picked up by the resort shuttle for the ride in. My brain’s almost as hazed as the sky from the flight, and from coming down from these dizzy few days. But even through those dual hazes, I can see the big pines, the buttes and rises of rugged hills.

Along the highway are workers tarring in ruts and cracks. And Bob, our resort guy, explains what all the white stuff is along the road and shoulder. Toilet paper. They have crew with rolls on toilet paper on long poles, sort of like paint rollers, running tp over the tar. I’m not sure I’d have believed it, but I saw it with my own eyes. I’m not sure of the purpose either, but it made for interesting van conversation.

Our resort is 37,000 acres. 37 THOUSAND acres. We check in, are given a kind of orientation. We booked a big cabin, and they drive us there, past what they call Spa Town–pretty white tents where I’ll get a massage this afternoon. There are hiking trails galore, and if and when the haze clears, amazing views. Even with the haze it’s amazing. All sort of moody and spooky. And blissfully quiet.

We’re also given a little car to use on property, so there are all these lime green Kias parked outside cabins and lodges.

I love the cabin, the layout, the we are western damn it decor. Big windows that’ll bring in those mountains and pines and fields. The minute I unpacked I went out to sit in one of the rockers on the big front porch and watched a couple of hawks. I can and will set up my brand new Surface at the desk in front of a big window, and write.

We drove into what they call The Village for dinner–saw a deer napping along the way. Stopped into their general store–upscale type. I may have to buy a hat before we’re done here.

Pretty restaurant for dinner with a menu, we’re told, that changes a bit daily. Kangaroo was on the menu. I think not for me. But Kat had the Yak Meatballs. I went for a more pedestrian steak. Amazing.

This morning I heard the hawks, and watched the horses grazing in the field near the cabin. Moments later, two cowboys came to round ’em up and take them into the barn, I assume for trail rides and lessons. And the sun was a hot red smear fighting through the haze.

A fine way to start our first full day here.

Since I seem to have my equilibrium back, I’m going to attempt a light workout, maybe a walk–though I want to orient myself much more before I take any serious hikes. BW is in the hot tub on the big back porch, and Kat and Jason still sleeping.

I have a most excellent book, a rocking chair on the front porch. I think our something completely different is going to work out very well.

Nora