I’m living in a place where traffic is defined by four or more boats on the same bend; girls’ nights out involve casting rods at the Craig Casting Club here at Headhunter and dodging hordes of guides at Joe’s Bar.
Flip flops and wading boots are de rigueur, and currently four bottles of hard liquor reside behind the counter at work.
And hot conversations are centered around, well… bugs.
Life on the Missouri is anything but ordinary; it’s the little things I’m beginning to appreciate.
A wave back from a familiar guide as I drive by shuttling his rig.
Three little goslings – the first of the season – I saw driving home from work this evening.
The herd of Bighorn Sheep that make their home near Holter Dam and who always seem to cross my path when I’m driving down the one-way, washboard section of the Dam Road in an old beater Dodge with a huge camper and an oversized boat trailer.
Big, puffy, stacked clouds – Montana spring storm clouds – against a deep blue sky.
Yeah, maybe we’re all a little crazy for being here.
But I’ll take it.
