Canola

Rusting and idle sit half of the horsehead pumps in the oil and gas fields in the northernmost 50 miles of Montana, along Interstate 15.  The other half seem to operate at a lazy pace as if trying not to be noticed by the wind turbines running at full speed and looming on the bluffs above them.  Maybe their fate is being determined by the depressed price of oil.  Alternatively, maybe we are starting to understand that the Earth is indeed a closed system.

The Thursday morning stop took place in Sunburst MT.  A freight train ensured that my stay was longer than planned, but it led to a pleasant discussion with the proprietor of the Sunburst Mercantile.  He stocks everything you need and a few that you don’t.  Most residents within a 60 mile radius depend on it for their needs.

The neighboring building, across the street, is a bar that was a church and is for sale.  Consider the possibilities of being tax exempt and having a liquor license.

Sweet Grass MT, as a border crossing town, conjured up an image of breezing right on through, in my mind.  To the contrary, I sat in line for an hour thinking about how much quicker it was to cross into Mexico than Canada.

Once in Alberta I began practicing multiplying speed limits by 6/10 and then deriving US dollar equivalents by 8/10.  Four liters to a gallon is close enough for fuel economy and 10% ethanol is the usual fare.  Nonetheless, the Interstate slog of boredom ended at the border and given the smaller roadways ahead, I immediately felt as if I was in the movie, rather than just watching it.

Running north to Lethbridge AB, the scenery can be described by a single photo…OK maybe two.  Everywhere you look you are surrounded by small brilliant yellow flowers on green stems.  My first thought was wild mustard or a different strain of quinoa.  Local residents were handier than Google and they told me it was canola.  The farmlands are beautiful and the highways allow for plenty of unpaved access roads to experience them.

Lunch in Lethbridge AB was at the 1010 Pub.  As I was stripping off my gear, the owner came outside to greet me, though I think his interest in my bike outweighed his interest in me.  Migrating from Yugoslavia he now devotes himself to making sure that arriving strangers depart as friends.  The food was as wonderful as the hospitality.  As I was gearing up to leave, he reappeared with a parting gift of bottled water to ensure my hydration for the remainder of the day.  Those are the memories that live on.

The day ended at 322 miles in Calgary and with the bike’s 24,000 mile dealer-service scheduled for tomorrow, I get a day off.  I hear that there’s a stampede in town and that it’s The Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth, as its slogan claims.  After watching the Rangeland Derby tonight, I’m hooked.