Road Babe Dispatch From Montana

Our initial plan to camp between Grand Tetons and Yellowstone was thwarted by a nasty snow storm rolling in. It was almost June, so that was to be expected, of course. Eddie and I decided to head North to Bozeman and catch up with some old friends on our way to Glacier National Park at the Canadian border. Even my dog, Shakespeare, was excited to relax for a couple days.

Upon arrival in Boze-Angeles, we headed out to Water of the Gods hot springs to relax and chat over a few Moose Drool drafts. A plexi-glass bubble protected the bluegrass band playing music for the drunken slew relaxing in the naturally-heated pools. Then, it became clear that what was needed was more beer. 

So, we hit up a local pub and tacked on a few tequila shots. (I'm a tequila enthusiast, you know.) About this time, the bartender told my friend Katie she looked just like her grandfather who used to be a barfly there. “Thanks …I guess.” Next thing we knew, the barkeep was spatting stories about painting the legendary Further Bus with Neal Cassidy.

The following morning, we hit the Madison River. A clear blue sky and an abundance of Pabst Blue Ribbon inspired me to dare Eddie to do something stupid. The challenge was to be the first to walk out in a freezing cold river and sit down in an inner tube, immersing one's poor unsuspecting ass in what should have been frozen solid. Well, off we went. I took a quick tumble into the icy water then came out bruised but unfazed. I'd won. The pain was dulled by the cold water (and copious amounts of beer).

We fell asleep to rain but woke from our siestas to snow. Time to get moving. We went supply shopping and began organizing our stuff. Just as we were saying our goodnights, I turned to Eddie sheepishly and said, “Where's my sleeping bag?”

“You're kidding, right? Oh sweet Jesus, tell me you're kidding.”

“Umm …” At that moment, I was imagining my sleeping bag sitting on the dining room table at home.

“This is what I get for traveling with a poet!”

“I remembered the camping box …” It was true. I had the tent, tri-pod stove with interlocking pots, headlamps, even the lightning bugs. Yet, in the snow without a bag, I was screwed. So, unexpected expenditure notwithstanding, I bought a cheap one to make it through. This was an indefinite road trip. I had to be prepared for whatever was to come.

Mittie Babette Roger is from Louisiana but lives in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. She received an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Naropa University and authored the book It's Better to Visit the Shaman Without Questions to Ask. She travels the world volunteering to help disadvantaged children and promoting Blue Iguana Tequila to empower serious drinkers.