Day Eighty, Custered

Despite my very best of intentions, I was slow leaving Ashland, Montana. I had everything packed and ready to go. I woke up in plenty of time. But it is hard to leave a comfortable bed. There's a lure to cable TV. And my pack was heavy and my poor tender feet are not everything they can be. I stayed in my room until check-out time, or a minute or two after that.

As it was I still had some shopping to do, Wheat Thins and sardines and such. And a sackfull of gummy old hamburger buns and two cans of smoked oysters. This last item sounds like a delicacy. Let me assure you it's not. But it will keep me alive until Broadus, Montana, or a mile or two before that.

And I enjoyed a very large hamburger at the cafe on the far edge of town. I knew it would be my last real food for days. I tried to eat it slow. And failed, of course, but it was good and the fries were beautifully done. It almost made up for the peculiar ambience and the downright glacial service.

So it was noon before I was back on the road. Fortunately it was not a hot day. I walked three miles up a fairly steep hill and crawled into the shade for a nap. When I woke up I was covered in grasshoppers, all the way up to my neck. It is better than being pecked on by buzzards, I guess. I'll let you know when it happens.

A few more miles took me to the Custer National Forest, which is to woodlands what Custer was to generalship. Its chief distinguishing feature is a conspicuous lack of trees. There is no evidence of forest fires. I doubt there were ever trees there. A few scrubby pines, yes, about twenty feet high, but that is just about it.

As I understand it, the National Forest system is less about conservation than it is about maintaining a strategic supply of wood. We may one day need a fleet of schooners or something to Keep America Free. And Custer is good for a gangplank or two, so long as they're not very wide.

Which is not to say it is not a nice place. I guess it is pretty enough. There is more rolling praire and a few rocky hills. The road's not too awfully bad. There isn't a shoulder but there aren't many cars. It winds enough to keep things interesting. There are plenty of hills to challenge me and keep me from getting soft.

I did not make tremendous progress today. I started late and finished early. There were roiling black clouds and some small hint of rain. I thought all hell would break loose. By the time the sky turned blue again I had already set up my tent. Over a fence and up a hill, I am looking down on the highway. I hear cows somewhere not too far away. I hope they don't trample me dead.

I was shooting for twenty-five miles. I did not even come close. Some of it I can blame on my feet, but I was just feeling wiped out. But early to bed and a good day tomorrow, who knows, I might save myself. If not I am going to be awfully hungry by the time I get to the next town.

The sun has gone down and it is starting to rain. There are wild creatures about. I am back in the bush and it is good for me. Easy living can make a boy weak. Goodnight.


I STILL ain't got no internet service, and here we can't blame the Cheyenne. Hey, Verizon, wherever you are, my name is James and you suck.

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