I went to Montana too early maybe; the weather was gorgeous and the mosquitoes weren't all that terrible, but in checking the Fort Benton Chamber of Commerce events calendar this morning, I see that there's a Peddler's Fair upcoming on July 19th...I would LOVE to attend. They also have a weekly Farmer's Market on Thursday afternoon's...I'm sure that would be fun to stroll through along the levee. I really enjoy events that involve local people doing their thing.

Which is certainly not to imply that I didn't have a super time on my solitary sojourn in June. I love going back to Montana, for any length of time, especially in the good weather months. I'm a fair weather traveller anymore. Winter is nothing more than a test of survival and sanity for me, so I know I couldn't actually LIVE in my homeland. Gawd knows it's bad enough suffering Idaho winters. I couldn't do it without the help of Himself to do all the driving, and most of the heavy drudge work entailed with winter months. I do well enough shovelling a small section of our entry way, but it's actually difficult for me to even get dressed after the snow flies. The season enshrouds me to a point where I'd make a good mole I suppose...or a forgotten turnip in a moldy root cellar.

Anyway, I got up early and loaded up the car after a quick shower. Himself was still home the day I left for Montana, so we had coffee together and double checked all the things I might be forgetting. I left him a tentative list of where I'd be, kissed him goodbye and pointed the car in the direction of the sun, which hadn't quite poked over the horizon yet. I wanted to be beyond the Montana border before the rising sun blinded me.

Half an hour later I was looking at Big Sky, breathing Montana air. The border is only 30 easy miles from our house, and I was cooking up the road, just getting to know the feel of the Cutlass. By the time I bypassed Missoula I'd found a stride that was comfortable, and easily slid into my travel mood. Miles didn't matter, and neither did being alone under the wide Montana sky. Whatever cares I had were left behind me, and I had a week of absolute freedom ahead. No coffee to make, meals to prepare, cats to clean up after, and no one to answer to for any damn thing I chose to do. How much more perfect could it get. Every woman ought to try a little solitude, and I was long overdue.

The lack of traffic on the Interstate surprised me a little, but the price of gas explained a lot; after I turned off I-90 toward Lincoln there were even fewer cars. I was delighted. The CD player was playing my favorite Celtic Chill album and I tootled along in my own cocoon like I knew where I was going. I stopped once before I reached Lincoln to take a couple pictures.

The silence and the cloudless sky were brilliant.

In Lincoln I stopped at a cafe and had coffee, some sausage and hashbrowns before topping off the gas tank at the shocking price of $4.10 a gallon! My first mistake was not gas-ing up in Missoula where petrol was still under $4.00, but my fuel tank wasn't all that thirsty. I just wasn't sure what kind of mileage the Cutlass would get on a trip of this nature, or how long it would be before I hit another town where choices were not limited to one station. I had nearly 200 virgin miles to cover and one thing I needed to know for sure was that I wouldn't be running out of gas on some forlorn prairie.

Efficiently I wrote down the mileage and tucked the gas receipt in my notebook and hit the trail again. Next stop, Augusta.