O Canada

by | Jan 6, 2025 | Uncategorized

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Wrinkly Bits

A Blog by Gail Cushman

Last Sunday I got up, donned my Sunday duds to go to church, and noticed the truck was in the front of the house, running. “What’s going on? Church isn’t for another hour. Why’s the truck running?”

Cowboy replied, “You said you were ready for an adventure, so I thought we might skip church and go to the border. It’s down to 25 degrees this morning. What do you think?”

“Yippee, we’re headed to the border,” I replied. “Arizona? Texas? Southern California, we can stop to see my brother. I’ll be ready in a jiffy.” I threw some clothes in an overnight bag, including a swim suit. Yes! We were headed south and warm weather. Cody was already in the truck, wagging his tail. He, too, was ready for an adventure. Within twenty minutes we were on the road, aimed toward the border. So, I thought.

The freeway was clear, we were headed West. Then we got to Big Timber (a very misnamed town, if you ask me, it should be named What Timber? With a question mark). Cowboy turned right. My antenna shot up, and I went on full alert. “What are you doing?  The border is south, you have to drive straight for a couple hundred miles, then turn left.”

“We are going to the border. You said you wanted to write a story about human trafficking and that means the border. The Canadian border.”  

“It’s 22 degrees and we are going north. Are you nuts?” We passed the Melville Post Office. Melville has a rather large Lutheran church, a restaurant, and a post office. That’s it. The thermometer read 18 degrees. Then we passed Harlowton, a bit bigger, but no warmer. Then we passed Two Dot, now that’s an interesting town. 26 people, and defunct bank, called the State Bank of Two Dot. A bar, of course. It was 12 degrees. 

Continuing on our trek. We finally arrived at White Sulphur Springs, which is a town, but a long way from anywhere. “Did you bring your suit?” the Cowboy asked. “There are hot springs at the motel that I’m sure you will enjoy.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Hot springs to sooth these old, cold bones. I love to swim and this would be the ticket. Cowboy was still nursing his foot, so no swimming for him. He and Cody volunteered to check out the bed and took a nap. We were having a heat wave, and the temperature had skyrocketed to 18 degrees. 

The hot springs were hotter than our hot tub at home, but very sulphur-ish. The pools steamed and bubbled, but smelled to high heaven. I basked in the warmth and swam a few laps before I started choking from sulphur’s odor. I made the best of it as I trekked back to the hotel room in my bare feet in the 22-degree weather, being careful not to slide on the ice.

I pounded on the door until Cody barked and woke Cowboy up and went straight to the shower. “Let’s go eat,” he said, “The Stockman Café is just down the street.”

The Stockman Café was worth the trip. We split a steak and saved a snitch for Cody. They had plenty of wine, and things were looking up.

The next morning, we checked out, cranked up the truck at 12 degrees (above) and headed for breakfast. Oops, no breakfast in White Sulphur Springs, so continued to Townsend, few miles down the road, 42 to be exact, and were the only diners in TB’s Diner and had a great breakfast. We proceeded to Great Falls, another 122-mile trek and visited the Charles M. Russell Museum. We enjoyed his art work, spent a few dollars on trinkets, and then headed north again. By this time, it was 3:00 pm, and we hadn’t met our goal yet. Next stop Canada!

Shelby, Sunburst and finally Sweet Grass. I gazed at the unending wheat fields with various vertical structures and asked, “Are those silos or elevators?” Cowboy went into a long dialogue about wheat, grain trucks, and railroads and when I woke up, he was still talking, so I still don’t know the difference, but I enjoy his melodious tales so much, it comforts me so that I forget the question (yawn.)   

Miles and miles of prairie, gentle rolling hills and a very straight interstate and suddenly, here we are, bright lights of Sweet Grass, Montana. I saw a sign reading, “Last Exit before Border” and then…

Oops, we forgot…Pistols and passports. Canada is not a state. We can’t have a pistol and we must have passports. Adventure foiled on both counts. It was 10 degrees.


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Gail Cushman:
Wrinkly Bits Author

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