Big Smoke-Filled Sky Country

We just returned from our end of summer road trip to my sister Ilene’s place in Liberty Lake, WA. We drove from Provo to Liberty Lake making a stop in Butte, Montana. Butte isn’t exactly the halfway point, but it is the only major city along that stretch of I-15.

They call Montana “Big Sky Country”. Based on my own eyes, it is really "Big Smoke-Filled Sky Country". Montana’s website has a link to give you the status of current wildfires. In fact, the website is updated at least daily just in case you wanted to track the “progress” of the various wildfires like the Weather Channel tracks hurricane paths.

Monday evening as we pulled into Butte the effects of these fires was plainly evident. The sky was completely grey and the sun blazed a brilliant pink-red through the smoke. The kids insisted it was the moon rather than the sun—never mind that it was still light out.

West of Missoula on Tuesday afternoon we noticed smoke in the hills northeast of the freeway. On our return trip Friday afternoon we found lots of the hills surrounding the freeway’s north side charred with only small portions spared—the areas just surrounding the few homes in the area. According to the aforementioned fire status report, this fire has been named “Black Cat” and exploded Thursday evening. The report says it has burned 6,275 acres, is ten percent contained, and burned seven unoccupied structures—none being primary residences.

Obviously, in a sparsely populated state like Montana you have two choices when it comes to a fire; you either let it burn or you spread the available manpower to fight the fires that threaten property. Whatever the choice the consequences are obvious—ugly skies, terrible visibility, difficult breathing, and disappointed visitors. I will be the first to admit that Montana was not our destination, but I was hoping to enjoy the vision I have always had of Montana—a picturesque vista full of evergreens, rolling hills, and lush river deltas.

The following picture was taken Tuesday afternoon at a rest stop and is indicative of the ugly skies we encountered. This picture is actually better than what we experienced most of the time in Montana.

These pictures from the Montana state website provide a stark contrast.

Obviously the tourist propaganda on the state’s website doesn’t come with a disclaimer that would go something like this: “Your views and memories of Montana are not guaranteed to be scarred by the wildfires currently ravaging the western portion of our great state.”

There might have been a mountain range out there in the background of my picture, but with all the smoke I will never know! Let’s just say Montana skies were a bust.

The next part of my Montana experience is provided by my beloved youngest daughter, Hallie. She has developed an abhorrence of public toilets due to their loud flushing noises and unfamiliarity. While she obviously needs to use the facilities—expressed by a lot of prancing around while holding the general anatomy—she refuses to give in to the call of nature.

On the first day of our trip we gave up and stuck her in the one of the 20th century’s greatest parental aids—the pull up. For the uninitiated, this is the toddler diaper—it can be pulled down for those being potty trained. Untold thousands of gallons of water have been conserved since pull ups have saved the need for laundering soiled sheets and clothing. The other unquantifiable byproduct is the innumerable hours of peaceful sleep provided to parents as the pull up does its thankless job.

Being the father of this silly girl, I felt it my duty to end this rising toilet phobia before it halted all forward progress made in the past year towards a life without a child in diapers/pull ups. So before our departure the next morning I forced Hallie to sit on the toilet at the hotel. Amidst screams of anguish, writhing, and kicking she managed to use the facilities. We then went to the World Mining Museum (I would have provided a link, but their website “is currently offline”. I don’t know whether it ever was online) where we spent a couple of hours. There it became painfully obvious that Hallie needed to go again. So I wrestled her onto the toilet all the while hoping that none of the other 10 visitors to the museum called the cops fearing some bodily harm was being inflicted on a three-year old in the restroom. So two restroom visits down and a couple of good “talking to’s” and I thought I had Hallie cured. Yes I suppose I am that naïve.

Off we went to finish our journey to Washington. We stopped several times between Butte and Missoula and in each instance Hallie insisted “I don’t need to go potty”. A stop in Missoula for lunch and Hallie is again doing the “pee pee dance”. We were at a truck stop diner and I didn’t want to fight her all the way to the very disgusting bathroom (A fatal mistake). So we sat and ordered our food. The misbehaving kids were each separated with Hallie ending up on my lap.

I should have observed the constant wiggling on my lap as a telltale sign that something was about to explode. Of course, with a child on your lap isn’t there always wiggling!! Next thing I know my leg is feeling warm and wet. Up I jump as Hallie continues to soak her pants and the very dirty diner carpeting. So father and daughter made there way to the parking lot to clean up.

Well Montana thanks for the memories. They were full of grey skies and wet pants. Hopefully another visit some time in the future provides me with more idyllic impressions than those currently etched in my mind.