Day 7 - Butte, Montana

Earthship Le Van Gogh Diary

Day 7 - Butte, Montana

I’m in Butte today, where the slogan is “a mile high, a mile deep and everyone’s on the level.” Interesting. A collection of local pronunciations includes the following:

Howshegoin? A term used as a salutation.
Jeetyet? A term used to ask the question, “Did you eat yet?”
Jou? In answer to jeetyet?,“Did you?”
Gweet. To “go eat” if you haven’t.
Howzyermomandthem? Exactly what you think it says.
Ya’s Plural of ya. Most likely a contraction of “all of you” as in “How youse guys doin’?”

All good to know information, I’m sure. There is another tradition with a long history here of everyone having a nickname. This supposedly came from the early miners who were immigrants from all over the place and nicknames were easier to pronounce then their actual names. In face most folks didn’t usually know a person’s real name until his/her obituary was published. Examples include:

Dutch McCrea, Ears Holland, Hula Kalafatich, Moose Pavlovich, Nichel Annie, Chicken Liz, Blonde Patrick and Booba Powers. Some of these obviously give a hint as to their ethnic background and how they got their nickname, but some just make you wonder where the heck that came from. Like Booba Powers. Wha…?

Anyway, mining is the game around here and there’s a huge, and I mean HUGE population of Irish in Butte. I haven’t seen so many Irish bars since I last visited Boston. And there’s an annual festival here which I will unfortunately miss called An Ri Ra with international Irish music performers and other Irish cultural activities celebrated for the next two days. I’m not happy that I will miss it but I will be back to this area in the future and will definitely stay for the festival. Being part Irish and all that I love to hear the music and traditions of the Old Home.

I wandered through a shop filled with more Irish stuff than I’ve seen in a long time. I spoke with the owner, who, like me, was a mutt of Gaelic extraction. She was Welsh, Irish and Scotch and I’m all that and a wee bit of English and French, to boot. She had black hair and fair skin and I have red hair with fair skin and freckles and we laughed about family histories with such a United Kingdom mishmash. Not unusual, of course, though combining English with anything Scottish and Irish must have been an interesting get-together.

You know, whether I use the last name of Cox (Irish), Tenn (Welsh), Clunie (Scotch), or Welborn (likewise Welsh), I’d be covered in this town. These are all last names I’ve had before for those who don’t know. I’m still using Cox, obviously.

Another local phenomenon was a colossal 90 ft statue of Mary, Jesus’ mum, high above Butte on the mountain marking the Continental Divide. Named “Our Lady of the Rockies,” the project to build it began in 1979 and both men and women of all walks of life and almost every religion worked to pave the way for the statue. It was dedicated to women everywhere, especially to mothers. (I’m relating this from a pamphlet in case you didn’t pick up on that.) Volunteers worked every day to blast a path for a road to the top of the Rockies. Must have seemed like it would take forever to get up there because sometimes they only got 10 feet in a day. Lordy!

The information I had didn’t name the person or persons who actually designed and forged the statue, amazingly, but it was the Nevada Air National Guard who lifted the four sections to the site with a Ch-54 Sikorsky Sky Crane. The Montana National Guard, the U.S. Army Reserve from Butte and lots and lots of civilians helped placed the final head-section atop the statue on December 20, 1985. Man, I sure would liked to have seen that! And I’ll bet they cleared the area below the mountain for miles while they were lifting these sections. Woe be unto the poor helicopter pilot who dropped that puppy!

The statue is lit at night and was beautiful to see in the twilight. It was visible from my little campground and I took a picture of it but again, without a zoom lens all I could get was this tiny white and glowing thing off in the distance. I took another picture at night but it just looked like a large star very close to the ground. Very pretty, actually, but it doesn’t give you the scale of this monolith.

I leave Butte with regret because there is so much to see here but I’ll be back - oh, yes, I’ll be back…

Lessons Learned:

That I can’t use my heating pad and Chopper’s heating pad at the same time on a 12V system.

That Chopper is much older than me, at least in kitty years.

That I respect my elders so her needs trump mine.

Which is why I like campgrounds with electrical hook-ups.

That I finally figured out how to join the sewage hose on the van and the extension I bought so it will extend to the sewer hook-up.

That I did this all by myself without the help of, indeed, in spite of the advice from several folks from the RV stores.

That it’s good to know that I can figure out these little problems.

As long as I don’t have to do this too often.

Observations:

A friend of mine kindly reminded me that Debussy did not write "Pavane for a Dead Princess." Ravel did. Dang. I knew that and brain cramped, but I sure sounded impressive there for a bit, huh?

A sign at a local restaurant advertising the future “Testicle Festival.” Not too unhappy I’ll miss that.

I’ve found my ‘tiger balm’ and have been rubbing it on my cracked thumb cuticles with tremendous relief. How am I going to get used to a different weather when I’m traveling so often between different kinds? I guess I’ll lay in lots of lotion, sun screen, light clothes, heavy clothes (both of which I already have), drink lots of water and hope for the best.

Since I entered Idaho and throughout Montana I’ve seen Clark Fords, Clark Rivers, Clark Forks, Clark Streams, Clark Lakes - Clark! Clark! Clark! Just who is this Clark guy, anyway?

Oh, wait. This is Lewis and Clark territory.

Duh.

So what does that make Lewis?

Chopped liver?

Fluffbutt was doing her squirm of joy on the passenger seat up front when I got up this morning, her signal that she’s happy and wants a belly rub. I was delighted to see that she was getting used to her new environment so I rubbed and played with her for a bit. She was feeling rambunctious and I had to pull out a cloth for her to snag and chew and kick instead of my hand and arm. I’ve been hit before with her “let’s see how many scars I can leave on you" mood and have learned to substitute something other than me.

I’ve seen three mountain silhouettes that look like Camelback Mountain in Phoenix, Arizona. Is this some kind of basic template for a range design?

T-shirt on motorcycle rider passing me on the left: “Fighting Solves Everything.” (???)

A Sinclair gas station with bright, colorful and obviously fake and how-did-they-get-here palms surrounding it. Besides buying gas you can apparently play at a casino inside. In fact, just about every local town has its own casino and liquor store. I forget I’m no longer in Washington where only the state sells anything beyond wine and beer. Now you can get anything anywhere. Weird.

Day 6 - Missoula, Montana

Earthship Le Van Gogh Diary

Day 6 - Missoula, Montana

Aaaahhhh. One of my favorite works by Debussy is playing on the local NPR, “Pavane For a Dead Princess.” Macabre title aside, it’s simply a lovely and dreamy piece of music.

I’m parked in a super Wal-Mart parking lot between two pickup trucks with campers on their backs. There are a couple of other trailer-pulled campers nearby and several cars, but I know now that by tomorrow morning there will be more. Many more. Boon docking is very popular in the RV set.

Missoula is either a large town or a small city - I haven’t checked the stats but it’s pretty cool, however big it is. Still having problems catching a roaming signal, drat it. Tell me again why I paid for my own wireless device and a monthly fee to boot when there aren’t enough towers to support this? Bleh.

I parked and took a walk in the downtown area and it was quaint and charming and picturesque and all that. Most shops were closed but there were plenty of folks just out and about to see and get exercise and feel the sun whenever it made a brief appearance. It was good to stretch my legs and see what was popular in this neck of the woods.

After I was tired from walking I returned to my car and asked Charmagne to find the local Wal-Mart. This she could do! And she didn’t dump me in the middle of the road, either! Yay, Charmagne!!

I parked near the gathering cluster of RV’s, set up shop for a 12V night and walked over to the store. I wanted to find a voice activated recorder I could use while I’m driving that was close at hand and that didn’t require me to look away from the road to grasp it. Trying to write down what I see as I drive along is a very bad idea; hence, a tiny recording device that holds about 200 hours of my lovely voice should I choose to not delete as I go. Since I have no intention of saving all of my little notes after I’m done transcribing them into the blog I found the smallest recorder for sale and got it. Now I won’t be such a driving hazard to myself and others.

Tomorrow I drive to Butte, about 125 miles from Missoula. I’m just setting Charmagne to get me to the city center and I’ll take over once I see a good campground for the night. I didn’t bother showering tonight and I’ll need (and want) one a lot tomorrow, for sure, so a full-service campground is required. I’ve become a KOA member and I know they have one close to Butte so I’ll probably stop at that one. I like KOA - it’s clean, has all services including a laundry (important!), the aforementioned showers, a dumping station (I sure hope so because my tanks are getting full again. So quickly! Off I go to beddy by with the kitties tucked in to their nightly areas and me tucked into my little bed. Night all!

Lessons Learned:

That my attempts to figure out how to use the recording device on my own have failed.

That I might have to read the instructions because I can’t figure out how to do it myself.

I hate it when that happens.

That Le Van Gogh doesn’t drive any better with the wind at my back than it did when I was driving into the wind.

That the van is still broad and high (relatively speaking, of course) no matter which way the wind is blowing.

That the van just doesn’t drive easily at any speed above 45 mph.

Which should keep me alert.

And should develop really strong muscles in my hands and arms.

I would think.

That parking in Wal-Mart is cost effective but noisy.

That some moron pulled up close by our little RV area with windows down and bass cranked as high as it can go.

At 12:30 a.m.

That I might have to dig out my hammer and go bash in his windows and side panels.

But that might hurt my hammer.

So never mind.

Observations:

A fenced in area with ‘High Voltage’ signs every five feet and a blackened scorched-earth area where some fool clearly tried to find out if the owners were telling the truth.

Strolling around downtown Missoula I see a mannequin in a store with a truly demented expression on its face. Scary.

A car in front of me with a faded red tattered towel spread across the back area just below the rear window and pink plastic roses scattered all about.

A young couple taking a walk in the downtown area with a large black lab carrying a thick, short branch in his mouth.

Three street kids holding signs saying “Traveling but broke, too ugly to get work.” I spoke to them about the kind of jobs they had applied for and one boy, who was quite nice looking, said that he was too ugly and no one would hire him. Uh huh. The other kid, who was kind of ugly, actually, had tried to find a job, any job no matter how humble, but no one would hire him. The two boys and the girl, all appearing to be anywhere from 15-19 years of age, were dirty and their clothes somewhat tattered which might have been the reason no one would hire them. That and they looked like runaways. Then again, the amusing sign was working and folks were giving them spare change so it could be just an easy scam. No obvious signs of drug use and no bruises or abrasions from being beat up. I wondered, though, how long it would be before some pimp rounded them up and forced them into prostitution. May the gods look favorable upon them! I gave them the two dollars I had in my pocket, wished them well and moved on.

I think I left humidity far behind me. My thumbs have started to crack at the corners of the nails and I’m constantly thirsty (hence, full holding tanks…) so I’m getting the hint that I’m now in dry country. Time to find some bag balm.

I passed a Cracker Barrel restaurant on my way to Missoula. Amazing! This extremely popular chain with delicious, artery-clogging southern cooking is usually found in the South. Or so I thought. It sure looked popular up here as well when I drove past it.

A highway sign saying, “9 Mile Road 1 Mile.”