Axe Murderers and Amish Rebels

My next farm was located in northwest Montana, about an hour north of Missoula. I spent a couple days visiting my sister in Santa Fe before making the trek.

I had never been to Montana before, so my goal was to drive as long as I could the first day to get up there quickly, then take the next day or two exploring the new territory. Normally, I avoid interstate highways on road trips, but time was an issue so I made an exception. I drove a good 14 hours in one stretch, which started to take its toll on me.

At a rest area just north of Denver, I picked up a hitchhiker named Joe. I’m always a little skeptical about hitchers, but this guy had a camera that was nicer than anything I owned—which isn’t saying much—so I figured he wasn’t likely to rob me unless he really wanted an 8-year-old iPod that only works half the time. And he didn’t have an axe, which is a good sign.

Joe was a real friendly guy in his mid-40’s. He was laid off from a welding job when the company was bought out and his truck broke down shortly after that. He refused to let lack of funds or a vehicle stop him from visiting some old friends in the Rocky states, so he resorted to his thumb. He pointed out that he could have taken a bus, but hitching was far more fun. He had hitched up and down the west coast a few times, which he said was pretty easy with all the hippies driving along that route. Out here, however, getting rides was considerably more difficult. Until I picked him up, he had only traveled ten miles in two days. A sympathetic 7-11 clerk let him sleep in a storage shed the past couple nights.

It was on my route, so I drove him all the way to his destination in Casper, Wyoming. Joe grew up in Wyoming and helped keep me awake with lots of stories about baseball-sized hail and ice fishing accidents. He was documenting his trip and wanted to take my picture, so I asked to take one of him, too:

I made it to the Montana border after dropping Joe off and slept in my car at a rest area. The long day of driving was worth it because I got to soak in a good bit of the state at a leisurely pace the next day. When I passed through Butte, I learned they were hosting the National Folk Festival, which began that night. Admission was free (my favorite price) so I spent most of the evening there.

I arrived a couple hours before the first band went on. A few families were setting up blankets and chairs in front of the main stage, so I followed suit, laid out a beach towel and fell asleep on it. When I woke up, about half an hour before the band started, there were a million people around me. I had no idea how huge this festival was!

I watched a bluegrass band, a zydeco band, a Celtic band and—my fav—a honky tonk musician named Dale Watson. I’m a sucker for rockabilly (longtime Elvis fanatic), so that made the night for me. With loads of swing dancers, his tent was by far the liveliest.

Sunsets look different in every state. I always thought New Mexico had the best until I saw what Montana had to offer. They don’t call this big sky country for nothing. Magic hour lasts a long time here, and it’s intense. The entire sky turned a pale burnt orange color and everything and everyone around me was glowing as if they were all made of gold. I think I took more pictures of the sky than I did of the festival.

After the music, I looked for a campground. There were plenty nearby, but they were all full, so I slept in the car again. Believe it or not, those two nights curled up in my back seat were two of the most refreshing nights of sleep I’ve had in weeks. It sucks not being able to stretch out when I want to, but I’m a total insomniac and any chance for a good night of rest is well worth it. Now I know that if I have trouble sleeping on a farm I can always crawl into the car. Ha!

I spent the morning at the Missoula farmer’s market, then made my way up to the farm in St. Ignatius. I arrived just in time for the Amish auction up the road, where I met the farm owners and Anna, an old friend of mine who currently works for them. The auction was a little strange. I lived in Pennsylvania and have had plenty of experiences with Amish culture, but this was quite different. These Amish drink Coke, use digital cameras and cell phones and buy parts from Walmart to build their furniture. I think somebody needs to tell them what it means to be Amish.

At any rate, I got settled into my new cabin at the farm and met the extended family of the farm owners. Today was supposed to be a day off, but rain was threatening to ruin the hundreds of hay bales sitting out in the field. The bale-lifting tractor was misbehaving, so we hitched a trailer to the back of a pickup and went to work running through the field and hurling bales onto the flatbed. It was backbreaking work, and I felt like I had a baptism by fire, but I really enjoyed it. The family recently finished building an outdoor cob oven and treated me to homemade fire-roasted pizza afterward.

Then another amazing Montana sunset hit us. Incidentally, the cabin where I’m staying is facing a long line of ginormous snow-capped mountains. It’s a hell of a sight to say goodnight to, or to wake up and see first thing in the morning.

View from my cabin porch.

So far, so good…

Can You Show Me the Way to Utah?

I said goodbye to the folks Thursday morning, then hit the road. I had enough time to take the scenic route, so I traveled across Oregon, Idaho and part of Wyoming the first two days. It poured almost the whole time, but the sky did clear up enough for me to get some nice pictures of the Snake River and a few sights in Idaho Falls. Both nights, I slept in the back seat of my car. I think it’s pointless to spend $50 on a motel just to sleep for a few hours. Besides, the car seat is more comfortable than it sounds. It just sucks being 6’3” and not able to stretch out.

I eat simply on road trips, too. Cold oatmeal with raisins, raw broccoli, bell peppers and a bag of filberts made up most of my diet. That may not sound appealing, but they’re actually all things I really like. And they’re healthy and easy for traveling. Remember, I did work at a natural food store for the past five years.

Wyoming was beautiful, especially as I got into the Rockies. I do my best to avoid interstate highways because they’re boring and mindnumbing. If you stick to the two-lane roads, you travel slower but see so much more. You drive through the middle of every small town along the way and meet far more interesting people. Better scenery, too. And when you need a break, you end up at kitschy diners and pubs instead of McDonalds. After a long evening drive down a muddy gravel road, I came across a tavern called the Elkhorn. The place was in the middle of nowhere—not another town or store for miles—and a big sign outside said “Welcome Hunters.” How could I not go in?

I loved the place, although I did feel like an alien there. Even in the gravel parking lot, my mud-covered Infiniti stood out quite a bit among the long line of pickups. The bar was inside a long, dark wooden room with lots of mounted animal heads and country music blasting over the radio. They served three kinds of beer (Coors, Bud and PBR), but at least a dozen kinds of whiskey. You could pay to roll dice to win a free beer. The bar was more or less busy, and I’m sure I was the only guy there who couldn’t bench press 200 pounds, or who wasn’t shitfaced. I talked to the bartender a bit and she recommended a little known canyon hike to check out when I arrived in Utah. She warned me to check the weather before I go because, as she said, “if it rains in the mountain then the canyon floods fast and you’ll die in minutes. Want another Pabst?”

I slept in the car that night at a turnout in the road somewhere in the Wyoming countryside. Usually, I look for rest areas, but they didn’t exist on that road. When I fell asleep, my vehicle was the only one around. When I woke up in the morning, three big rig trucks surrounded my car. Guess I found a hot spot for roadside naps.

I entered Colorado on day three, bright and sunny. I wasn’t very far from the Utah farm and I had two days to get there, so I decided to enjoy some camping. Looking for a good site led me to drive through Grand Mesa, which took me over a beautiful snow-covered mountain that my car had a tough time climbing. Amazing frozen lakes and rivers were plentiful. It was very tempting to camp there, and I could have done it for free, but I was in the mood for a spot where I could lounge in the warm sun instead of waking up to sub-zero temps. Camping in snowy mountains definitely has its appeal to me, but that would have to wait. In the meantime, I soaked up the scenery and took a ton of pictures.

I ended up settling for a campground at Black Canyon. I never heard of the place before, but it was getting late and I was desperate to find something nearby. I found a site, set up my tent and decided to go for a walk to see what the canyon was all about. The campground was small and not very populated, so I wasn’t expecting much. I hiked about 200 feet away from my tent before I came into a clearing and was completely shocked. This canyon was HUGE! Certainly not as big as the Grand Canyon, but no less breathtaking. You could walk right up to the rim and sit with your feet hanging over the edge, which dropped off 1700 feet straight down to the river below. And quiet—not overcrowded with tourists and screaming kids like the Grand Canyon, even on a Saturday.

The weather was warm enough to sleep outside under the stars. I enjoyed a long night of journaling and staring at my campfire. The next day, the few other campers all left and I had the whole canyon to myself. I spent the whole day hiking and sitting on the canyon edge. That’s when it first really sunk in that I’m unemployed with no home and no income. It scared me a bit until I reminded myself that it also meant no more work drama, no more staring at a computer all day, no more mundane routine. Instead, new opportunities, new experiences and new things to learn. That’s what I wanted, and still want. And that day I learned that you should check for snakes before crawling into a sleeping bag that’s been sitting outside all day.

Doubt it was poisonous.

My Master Plan

So I'm going to be a WWOOFer. For those of you who don't know, WWOOF stands for Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms, and it's an organization that hooks up volunteers with organic farms around the world that need help. Usually, the farms provide lodging and food in exchange for 25 or so hours of work a week. Some require more hours of work. Many tell you to bring a tent. On rare occasion, some provide a stipend. Commitments can range anywhere from a few days to a few months. Every farm is different.

After spending countless summers staring at a computer screen in a dark office, I decided it was time for a change. I worked as a graphic designer/merchandiser at a natural food Co-op in Oregon until just a few days ago. Not a bad job, but after almost 5 years I was ready for something different. I'm 32 and I've spent most of my life working in offices, and I feel like I'm missing out on some basic life experiences. Living in the lush Willamette Valley, working at a food co-op and helping out at our weekly farmer's market, I meet plenty of farmers and farm workers. They talk a lot about their work and their harvests. It always sounds like a harsh life, but it also sound like something I want to experience. Not only do I want to work outdoors and work in the dirt, I want to know that I can do more than just click away at a mouse every day. I think I have some fear of letting go of the conveniences in my comfortable life, and I want to prove to myself that I can do without them.

I also want to travel and see the big bad world. So there.

At any rate, I decided it was time to take action, so I paid my dues for WWOOF-USA (wanted to try it domestically before going abroad), found a vineyard in Utah that needed volunteers, gave my notice at work and started selling everything I owned. I plan to travel and move around for a while, so I needed to do some serious minimalizing. I sold most of my books at the local used book stores, most of my furniture on Craigslist and most of my household items on Ebay. The rest was given to friends (traded a sofa for a nice backpack). It's amazing how fast I can accumulate junk.

It took a lot of work, but I managed to whittle my possessions down to what would fit in my car, aside from a few things left in my parent's attic (books, some sentimental stuff and a surfboard I couldn't bear to part with).

Money has been a concern lately. I recently sold a computer for $500, which made me very happy. The next week, I came down with a toothache and was told I had a fractured tooth that needed a crown. That cost exactly $500, which made me not so happy. I'm doing my best not to worry about it. Someone once told me that money flows—it comes and goes as you need it, as long as you let it. You don't prepare to travel by collecting all the water you need for the whole trip and carrying it around with you wherever you go. Instead, you find water as you need it. In the same way, you'll find ways to make money as the need arises, and it will come to you if you allow it. I like that idea. I guess I'll find out if things really work that way or if the lady who told it to me was totally wacko.

So here I am at my parent's house, the night before I take off. I have four days until I start at the Utah farm, so I plan to spend some time traveling around the mountain states. I also have plans to work at a farm in Montana in mid-July, but I'm still working out the dates for that one.

I'm a little nervous, but also excited. Worse case scenario, I have a sister in Santa Fe with a couch about my size.

Gotta finish packing...