Monday, July 29, 2013

Monday, July 29, 2013

Roadside stop:  Jordan, Montana.  This was the first town we’ve come across that had any services since we left Lewistown 150 miles ago.  Rt. 200 in Montana has many ranches along it but not much in the way of towns.    It was coffee time so we stopped at the café / gas station / general store.  It reminded me a lot of Stewart’s in Pine Plains, not physically, but the same characters were there.  There was no coffee, but there were muffins.  The local Sheriff was at the counter talking to the cashier about local stuff.  After a minute he noticed I was waiting and apologizrd saying “Here I was broadcasting when I should be receiving”, to which the cashier agreed he was good at broadcasting.  I asked if there was coffee next door (through and archway) in the café explaining the machine was empty.  The sheriff was nice enough to go and make another pot for us.  While the coffee was brewing we sat at a table and ate our muffin, getting into a conversation with a local person that had worked at the atomic plant and Boeing in Washington State.  He came back to Montana because there wasn’t any good hunting or fishing near Seattle and the traffic was miserable.  Not a problem around Jordan.  There’s plenty of the first two, none of the third.  Another quote Mom heard was two locals commenting on the weather: “Beautiful day, isn’t it? (reply) Yep, it’s a good fencing day.”  I assume that means cool, sunny, not too windy.  After the coffee was ready, while paying the Sheriff explained he wanted to put a speed limit sign in the store window and related a couple of speeding stories – one about a person that went through town at 60 mph.  There was a person crossing the street, the driver drove behind the person between them and the curb.  His favorite story was stopping a Detroit cop who drove through town at 70 (the speed limit outside of town in Montana.  Two lane, four lane, straight, twisty, hilly, 70 mph.  Let the driver decide how fast to go.)  When the sheriff asked the Detroit cop if he knew why he was stopped, his reply was “What town?”  We got the feeling the Detroit cop did not receive any “Professional courtesy.”

We left Lewistown on the prairie, drove past fields of wheat, which gave way to grasslands and sagebrush with cattle and horses grazing.  This in turn gave way to the hills and gullies of the badlands of North Dakota, then grassland again.  We stopped for lunch in a little town named Richey.  The town grew up before the first world war when the railroad reached this point.  This became the end of the tracks when the US entered WW I and efforts were redirected to the war effort.  The town park offered a pleasant spot to eat.


We’re camped in the middle of the new oil boom – housing is hard to find, RV spaces harder.  This campground keeps two spaces for transients, the rest are oilfield workers.  This once quiet agricultural town now grows housing with constant truck traffic on the highway.  No picnic tables or grills in this campground!  The manager said we picked the campground without the meth heads, but we’re going to lock up well anyway.  Sweet dreams!  Tomorrow we’ll be back in the countryside.
 Jordan is the winner!
 Rt. 200  prairie in eastern Montana
 Jordan Cafe / store / gas station / gossip stop
 This is not a demonstration at some historic park, it's the real thing.  Along Rt 200 in Montana

 Lunch in the Richey town park
 I herd we were entering the grasslands
 Old school vs contemporary income sources - farming and cattle vs oil
 New crop
 Entering North Dakota badlands.  They start at the state line
 Historic approach to housing
 Housing now near Alexander ND in oil country
 Views from our campsite - burning off gasses from gassy wells
 Another section of the "campground".  That's the campground road in the foreground

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