The Road Less Traveled, Part 1

Every year, the sister of one of my very best friends hosts a party to celebrate the Summer solstice at her house in Kalispell.  She and her husband (people who are truly great in the most moral and human sense) allow a bunch of us to descend on their home, drink to excess, laugh like the loving fools we are and get reacquainted with what truly makes life good.  This year was special beyond measure, because their greatest wish had been fulfilled.  This was the first Solstice celebration for their son, Morgan Finn.  (Welcome to the wild ride, little man.  Hold on tight, and enjoy everything!)

Every year I've gone I have taken a different route from Bozeman to Kalispell; and by a strange coincidence, every year I've driven a different vehicle.  Those streaks will likely end soon, but not this year.  This year, as once before, my beloved went with me, and we had one quest in mind: to take the road less traveled.  It was our intent to journey roads we'd never been on, and see places we'd never seen, and avoid the Interstate whenever and however possible.

We left Bozeman on Huffine, and just went straight to Norris.  This was nothing new for either one of us, but pleasant just the same.  What we had never done was visit the town of Pony.  It's a tiny little mining burg, about two miles off the main road, in the Madison valley.  It's nestled in the bosom of some pretty impressive rocks. 

That big shaved looking guy to the right is called Hollow Top, for somewhat obvious reasons.

The town itself is cute and quaint beyond compare.  In fact, calling it those things may be an insult.  My beloved was enchanted with the place.  It has a big brick school (abandoned) and several houses that speak to the glory of mining riches.  Victorian 'painted ladies', my wife calls them.  In truth, I could live there (if I had the money to live there.)  One of my co-workers obsessed for a week with the idea that the Pony Bar is for sale.  I now understand why, and have twisted fantasies that I  might buy the place just so I could live that life under the shadow of great mountains.  I wish we had had more time to spend there (like a few others have.)  But we had miles to go before rest.

We headed north, and cut over to Cardwell.  From there, it was over Pipestone pass, dropping us into the lap of Butte.  More later ...

Comments

[goof houlihan]

Getting insulted by Bert, the cigar smoking owner proprietor with the porcelain knick knack, was always one of the highlights of going to Pony.

[Cece]

AHHH. You have to buy the Pony Bar. I love it, have been there several times. You see, we own a little piece of land on the South Boulder, and I am going up there for the 4th of July, where I fully expect to be besiged with questions about the Madison County proposed set-back resolution.

[goof houlihan]

"porcelain pig knick knack collection" I meant, and oh yes, Bert was a hard eyed woman who'd pick one member of the group to insult, refuse to serve a drink to, etc.

The Tobaccoroots are a secret, shhhh!

[Rebecca Schmitz]

The original fence from the old Pony cemetery is here in Missoula. It's around the front yard of a house on University Avenue, about three or four blocks from campus. If you're in town, you can't miss it; it's the rusty metal fence with little urns atop each post.

[GeeGuy]

I love Montana.

[batgrl]

Dammit, I didn't get any landscape photos! Too focused on the whole people photos thing. Speaking of which - I managed to get a photo of you doing the Terrorist Fist Jab. (Scroll to the end of that post.) Let me know if there're any photos of you folk you want retired from view. You know, in case you run for public office or something.
(I'm kidding, everyone looks very nice! And blurry. Very very blurry.)