Dancing Through Montana

We are driving toward Montana from Alberta. The land is flat and the road is straight. We are on cruise control and if there was a “steering control” you could set it and just let it ride. “I can see for miles and miles”; the song comes to mind here. There are a few oil drills and not much else. The tall grasses on the plains are dancing in the wind; it looks like a big green sea with little white caps rippling for miles; it is quite amazing. We stop at a gas station (warning: next gas service 133 km – we have learned!). It is so remote here that big signs say “you must give your driver’s license to the cashier before filling up”!!! That’s a new one! I guess with no one else around some folks have filled up and taken off into the sunset. We are approaching Milk River, Alberta where we will cross into Sweet Grass, Montana. Do you get the picture?? Yes, the river looks like a pale chocolate milk and we cross it several times as we travel. We stop at the Duty Free and the 2 bored-looking clerks are sitting outside at a picnic table putting in time in case they get a customer. We are the only ones around! The line up at the border crossing is unusually hectic – there is 1 car in front of us! Ha! As we approach Shelby, Montana we find a municipal park with camping spaces and washrooms. I get out of the car to pick up the envelope for the whopping $10 charge for the night – and I start dancing. Mosquitoes swarm me from head to toe! I shut the door fast and for the next hour we are on the hunt for the little beggars. We are both dancing the “bug jig” now. During the night the van starts dancing – there is a wild wind storm with rain and you can feel the vehicle rocking. It was quite the production. In the morning I decide to have a shower which was wonderful. Lots of hot water and clean washrooms. But I am in for another dance. As I start brushing my teeth the army of nasties starts again. I do a dance called “kick, kick, brush, brush, kick, kick, brush, brush” as fast as I can and get out of there. We have been dancing since we arrived in Shelby, and our last dance put us back on the road early – I carry the “After Bite” in the glove box now. The Itch Dance is the worst on of all