So, about a week ago my family and I went to Montana and I took some Scribbles while we were there:
Arriving in Montana – Day #1
The vast land of Montana was stretched out below the plane, a scramble of patchwork squares in dry, thirsty colours.
You would find a patch of civilisation and become thirsty for it because of the huge margin between the two extremes.
The sheer size of the wide, open sky swallowing the prairie land would make you dizzy.
Taking the first step out into Montana air, you are wrapped in a summer haze, and the smell of baking land wafts around your nose. The sky is a pale blue-grey and fails to hydrate the parched expanse.
The land is so bare, you feel exposed on the naked land as the low-hanging sun bakes the stretched-out prairie.
Arrival in Choteau – Night #1
It was a sleepy town, it was modest and old-fashioned with derelict shops.
Day #2 – on the road
The vast horizon rests low at the ground, a straight prairie expanse. A sudden break rises out of the ground with towering mountains as an eerie smoke hovers around them.
Specks of cattle and dots of hay bales accessorise the patches of crop and grass.
Entering Glacier Park
Rugged mountains rise from the pine forests. Snow rests on the chiselled edges of the colossal giants like bits of frosting dripped on a chunk of chocolate.
Skeletons of trees, abandoned from a forest fire, stick up from the ashes of fallen family like bones.
In Glacier Park
Layers of mountains build on top of each other towering over the glistening lake.
Forests and wildflowers carpet the mountain sides.
Higher up in the Mountains blankets of snow cloak the hillsides – it is as if you had moved into a different season.
Day #3 – On the Way to the Ranch
The car passes fields of wind turbines;
Ghostly figures spin simultaneously, slowly. Silently. It is as if they are waiting for something to hunt: passing cars, people, animals – all victims of prey. Their only source of energy, as ghostly as themselves, the wind.
The car passes fields;
An empty, never-ending horizon, yellow and vibrant under the shining rays of sun.
On the dirt road;
Gusts of dust rise and hover behind the car…
Vast. Open. Wide. Everyone knows everyone. Empty towns. Endless fields of crop. Towering mountains peaked with snow. Low-lying valleys of forests filled with wood life animals.
The great town had all of the necessities and a little bit more, but the streets and stores and civilisation fell asleep at 5:00pm and a derelict ghost town would remain.
Day #6 – Taking off, on the plane. Goodbye Montana!
The patchwork fields and wide open plain shrink underneath me. Each blade of crop quickly blurring into a blend of browns, greens and yellows stretched out like a blanket. Cattle and people like specks, ranches and farms like toys, little dirt roads like thread.
All that is left of Montana is the thick wall of clouds concealing the Big Sky Country.