Loops and swift horses are surer than lead

The title for this one is a bit odd, but will make sense shortly.

I am in Wolf Point, MT, having ridden 1,211 miles thus far. The last few days have all been in the true Big Sky country of Montana. It is so wide open I can literally see the curvature of the earth at times. The songbirds along the way are my constant companions now as guard rails are less needed given there are no hills to drive off of. But, to the people.

First was Jerry Smith of Galata, MT. His great grandmother came from Norway in 1903 at the age of 16 by herself and after a brief stop in ND, she headed to Galata in February of 1904 and staked her claim. Her Norwegian family still owns their land in Norway now and the families keep in touch. She was very successful and married another immigrant to the area. In 1915 she and her husband decided to go visit their family and her husband booked a trip on the fastest ship available. When she find out what ship it was she told him she had a bad feeling about it and made him book the transit on another ship. If you know anything about WWI and famous ships you are probably already there. The ship she said no to was the Lusitania, and it was on that trip the ship was sunk. There are several stories of people who did not get on that ship, but it is not for me to question his story. It is his family's story and has survived three generations of telling. These are the stories of America and her people and I love hearing them. He was a great guy and knew the history of Galata because it was his story. Besides, we watched the noon weather forecast together in his AC controlled convenience store on a very hot day, and I love watching the weather as much as any Montana farmer does.

Now to the title story.

I stop at every roadside historical marker I see. I have learned a lot, and anyone who knows me knows I love history. The best part is wondering what the story will be about: sheep massacres, Indian history, Montana cattle brands, train robberies like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid, whatever. This specific one is in Saco, MT. Before I got to Saco the only thing anyone had told me about it was the mosquitos are bad there. One woman in Harlem, MT stated she believed a prison for pedophiles should be put there with no place to get inside and all the inmates should be forced to wear nothing but Speedos. Anyway as I pulled up there were two men there talking about the marker, a large square cut monolith with plaques on each side. As I walked up one guy was explaining to the other that they cooked the bear and it tasted awful. If you Google the title for this post you will see a painting by Charlie Russell, famous western painter. The subject is of some cowboys catching and killing a bear using their lassos. As I was looking at the front plaque with a bunch of names on it one of the men pointed to a name and said "that's my grandfather." The name was Ray Campbell 'cook.' The man who told me was Kevin Campbell. His friend was Mike Smith. Kevin never knew his grandfather as he passed before Kevin was born, but his grandma Myrtle told him all the stories. Amy and I have been to the Amon Carter museum in Fort Worth, TX and have seen this painting. Russell took some liberties with the story to paint it but it really happened and Ray Campbell was there and did cook that bear. It was an amazing moment for me to have something I have seen brought to life by a very chance meeting alongside the road in Saco, MT. And that's why I ride. Kevin lives in Malta, MT just west of Saco and his history is also one of Norwegian ancestry. My people...

So instead of one of my pictures, go look up that painting. Even better, go see it in person. It is our story.

Finally, thank you all for the comments. They mean a lot to me on the road, especially on the many long days when I see nobody else and sleep in a small city's park.

Be blessed.