Exploring Eastward - Part 1
By the middle of August, I had been practicing 'astrophotography' for roughly 9 months now. And I was still quite the novice by comparison to a few of my friends who also like to shoot at night. But I had put a few reps in and practiced honing in on my trait, all in preparation for my next big test. And as luck would have it, there would be an amazing astronomical event that would be reaching its zenith during this very time, the Perseids Meteor Shower. All the while, the core of the Milky Way was beginning to crest over the horizon, certainly making for quite the alignment. I thought to myself, "where would be the best place to try and capture this stellar event?" And I quickly realized there would be no place better, than in the dark rural countryside of Montana, near Fort Peck Lake. A place known as one of the darkest spots in the United States. I had to go.
I begin by charting my course northward from Helena, as I set off on the soon to be 1,000 mile trip around Eastern Montana. The first stop for me would be a visit to the Hardy Bridge tucked within the Missouri River Valley, just north of Craig, MT. This bridge holds a special place in my heart, as I'm a big fan of cinema. And especially, I'm a big fan of the late 80's classic, 'The Untouchables.'
The sight here looks quite different now, than it did nearly 40 years ago. And yet I can't help but to visualize a scene from that movie, playing out on the bridge now before me. I picture Elliot Ness (a young Kevin Costner) and a squad of his fellow federal agents attempting to stop an illegal shipment from coming in. Across the bridge, in the movie, sits the Canadian border. But in this case, it's just Sawmill Peak here in Cascade County, Montana. Regardless, an epic gangster shootout soon ensues with the Canadian mounties racing down the mountainside ahead. Tommy guns and shot guns are booming as they blast out the windows of some 1920s classic Fords and Chevrolets. The heroes eventually emerge victorious from the fray.
I load back up into my car and continue the long drive ahead. I remember driving this stretch of road frequently in my earlier twenties, back and forth from Helena and Great Falls nearly every weekend. Either making trips for work, to see some friends, or to just simply grab a bite at the nearest Sonic before turning back around for home. All of that now seems so far behind me, as does my home, while I drive knowing the sheer hours and miles I'll be putting behind the wheel on this trip.
I cruise through Great Falls, break off the interstate, and begin heading north along Highway 87. I don't seem to recall if I had ever travelled this specific route before. Everything beyond this point seemed so vastly different from the mountains and valleys that I'm accustomed to near Helena. The road feels to be climbing in elevation as much as it is in latitude in some parts, and I'm reminded why this stretch of Montana is affectionately called "The High Plains."
Just before reaching Fort Benton, I feel the need to scratch the itch of curiousity from behind a camera, and I make a stop at the Missouri River Overlook to stretch my legs and take in the sights. This overlook is perched upon a U-bend cliff, with the MIssouri River and some farmlands far below. Thinking back now, almost everyone I had ever met has told me there was nothing out east. That it is just flat, boring nothingness. But with sights like this one along my path I believe either they are all mistaken, that maybe they're lying if they're from here so not to spoil the secret, or maybe I just appreciate these kinds of things because of my unique perspective; the "photographer's eye" as some people have commented to me in the weeks prior. I take in the sights for just a moment more, and take a deep breath of the clean country air, and I hop back into the driver's seat.
The next stop on my journey leads me into Havre. Whenever I think of Havre, mind always goes to a popular slogan of one of Havre's local breweries, Triple Dog Brewing Company, "Havre made. Havre kegged. Havre pour me another." For a guy that owns a marketing, design and branding business, and is also a marketing coordinator for a local PT office, I can always appreciate good advertising when I see/hear it. Especially considering that I still think of that slogan to this day, years later. And because of that very reason, Triple Dog Brewing is top of mind for me today and is definitely on my list of must-stops while I'm here.
Before I can slake my thirst, I aim to take a tour of Havre's underground history. I get my tour scheduled at the quaint museum, and before too long the tour group and I set off down a narrow flight of stairs. We are walked through the history of Underground Havre, back when the town was still called Bull Hook Bottoms. We learn all of the famous locals of that time, how and why everyone started building underground. The fire of 1904 nearly desimated the town of Bull Hook Bottoms, destroying the upper levels of most buildings that stood. But because of the cold winters in Northern Montana, most people had cellars they would live in and retreat to for warmth. After the fire, only the cellars remained. And so, business resumed as usual, just one floor down.
We also learned where the name Havre originated from. As the town expanded, some folks thought the town was in need of a more appealing name. Bull Hook Bottoms just wasn't cutting it anymore. But these things tend to get lost to the ages, and different accents and dialects also play a role. Such as how us Montanan's pronounce the name of this town, "have-r." But according to our historian guide, they believed it was a translation for the French word for "port."
I don't speak as much French as I use to, but that didn't line up quite right with me at the time, so I decided to do some research later on. As the story goes, the origination is actually from a Frenchman that came through and pitched it as an idea. The locals of the time, of course, weren't as familiar with worldwide geography as we are now. So thanks to the power of GOOGLE, I can surmise that he was likely calling back to, potentially, his hometown in France, Le Havre ("luh hah-ve"). Le Havre, especially at that time, was a major northern port for maritime trade, very much like how Bull Hook Bottoms was a key hub for goods travelling through to the Pacific Northwest and Western Canada. "The Port to the North," as I remember our tour guide reminiscing on Havre's importance to the West. We wrap up the rest of the tour and I make my promised visit to Triple Dog Brewery for just a small sampling so that I can decide what to fill into my growler for later.
The rest of my driving for the day was uneventful in the best of ways. Nothing crazy. No accidents. Heck, not even any traffic for that matter. Just peaceful cruising along the high-line towards Glasgow where I'll eventually tuck in for the night. "Eventually," being the key word here.
The road along the High-Line is dotted with a few other scenic vistas like the Missouri River Overlook as the highway winds along and through the ancient river basins of the Milk River. Otherwise the scenery is primarily dominated by sprawling farmlands and rolling hills. This is a sight in which I find beautiful in it's own right, and it's likely due to the fact that I don't get to see things like these quiet rural praries often enough. There is not a single mountain to be seen anywhere along the horizon. Just fields of golden grains, ready for the fall harvest, and the clear blue sky above. There's nothing to get between them and obstruct their wonderful simplicity.
I pull into Glasgow 'round dinner time and make sure to stop at the legendary, and highly recommended, Eugene's Pizza. To put it quite simply, Eugene's alone was worth the drive. If you know, you know.