Another blueberry muffin, paired this time with a raspberry smoothie, at the same café as yesterday. Alone, this time. For the better, I believe.
There’s been so much on my mind lately, none of which I can seem to do anything about. At least, not at this point. Especially not when I’m 1800 miles from home. My anxiety has been spiking: some moments I am fine, simply enjoying being in a beautiful state like Montana; and other moments, most moments, I feel my anxiety welling up from the depths of my stomach. As much as I would hate to leave early — this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve shortened a trip because of anxiety — I also understand I need to do what is best for me and my mental wellbeing.
The drive wasn’t as long as yesterday, but when you’re following a single-lane highway for fifty miles at 80/mph, driving gets to be a bit stale. Even the scenery, beautiful as the mountains may be, doesn’t change much. Perhaps every twenty miles the views will differ, but only slightly. At least there were a few worthwhile stops, pulling off the side of the road to photograph a decrepit building or some interesting element against the mountains.
Our first stop could have easily been the only stop, for me. A grain elevator set against a stormy sky, the mountain range in the background, and a tractor trailer loaded with logs of one variety or another. As soon as I laid eyes on it from afar, I knew I had to pull onto the old dirt road and make our way to it.
Despite knowing the composition I wanted, and even after achieving it, I decided to walk around, to explore a little. Just in case there was another vantage point I hadn’t considered or a subject more interesting than this one. (Although, let’s be honest, I knew there wasn’t going to be. This is just too good.)
At one point or another, a mid-sized truck came off the highway and down the dirt road, into the small town we were nestled against. On the bed of the truck was a metal chest, and on top of the metal chest stood a black and white dog. A Collie, of some sort, I would imagine. A farming dog. True to the nature one would expect, too, as this dog didn’t so much as stumble as its owner drove over bump after bump.
Past an odd-looking building made of cargo containers and scrap lumber — of which I have a photograph but am uncertain it’s any decent — the only notable stop was the abandoned town of Castle Town.
Castle Town originated as an old mining camp in the late 1800s, quickly becoming rather prosperous with over 1500 people taking residence. Quite a large number of people for such a small area. It’s said that even Calamity Jane resided here for a while, where she attempted to live an honest life running a restaurant — but that clearly didn’t last. Unfortunately, the town lived and died by silver. When the Panic of 1983 settled in, most of the mines in the area were shuttered, and the residents of Castle moved on.
Now, the ruins of this town sit on private property. You’re supposed to get permission from the owner before mixing in with the dozens of cows roaming around. However, we didn’t see the sign that told us this until after we had already explored the area, despite parking right next to it. How odd.
Looking through my files tonight, I’m not positive I have anything worth sharing. Really, it’s only the grain elevator photograph that I am positive is a keeper. The other two I have included in this missive are from Castle, a sort of diptych, with each photograph being taken on opposite sides of a stone wall. We’ll see how I like them once I am home and have had the time to take a proper look, as well as make a print or two.
For now, I need to get sleep. Tomorrow I meet Bryan Schutmaat and the rest of the workshop crew.
— C