The Last Best Place

The speed limit in Montana is 75. I cruised along at 78 and was passed by the only two cars (pickup trucks, natch) that I saw on 90 at almost midnight. There was no reason to slow down; there just wasn't anybody on the road. I only passed a handful of exits in 40 miles. I had a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that just hours earlier I had been in the land of stop-and-go traffic and urban sprawl that didn't quit.

I was thrilled- I finally got to join Seth on one of his many trips, and it was to one of our favorite places. When Seth was offered a hunting trip to Red Lodge, Montana, he realized it was Veterans' Day weekend, so I could go- and a Nieman adventure was born. I could ice climb and snowboard while Seth stalked elk, and we could spend evenings hanging out in front of our fireplace.

Well, sort of. Except that we had a cabin-mate (named Adam, a double amputee that I ended up liking so much I got up early to make sausage and eggs for them before they left at o'dark early every day.) And Montana was unseasonably warm, so there was no ice and not a lot of snow. (Although Montana warm still meant a on of layers.) Anndddd there were social obligations every night. So we had our hands full.

But we met a ton of great people, and solidified our plan to retire in The Last Best Place. I ran miles on icy dirt roads with stunning views of the mountains (with bear spray and a Ruger in hand, which made me feel much better when I saw bear tracks and got stalked by a wolf), snowshoed up Beartooth Pass and had the whole spectacular valley to myself, and got to climb Rimrock with Charlie, a climbing legend who had done first ascents with Yvon Choinard. Seth killed a big mule deer and got to drive around in ATVs, imparting his hunting experience to the other wounded warriors, who were new to hunting. He even got asked to come back as a guide.

And we did spend a lovely (freezing) morning together, riding around in search of elk with Jake, Seth's cool guide-- a 20 year old who worked in a coal mine and wore a cowboy hat without a hint of irony. We love Montana. And Montanans. As we slammed our last meal on the way to the airport (that's right, the Niemans can get in lunch and two beers apiece in 20 minutes flat), we watched big, fat snowflakes fall on the streets of Billings and googled Montana realtors. We're thinking log cabin, lots of acres. With big wildlife, Seth-friendly gun laws, lots of trails, and expansive views- it's our kind of place.

Photos of the week:

Seth and Adam at the salad bar. I was actually appalled, although it was funny.

Andddd had to include this one, from our longggg 4-day week back. Best part of working at Belvoir is lunch breaks with Mom & Dad!