highway 200

the lonesome highway & finding appreciation for your daily commute

Highway 200 stretches across Montana from North Dakota all the way to Idaho, I’ve heard it called “the lonesome highway” and it is lonesome, but it’s also one of the most beautiful drives through the state. It follows some of central Montana’s most well known rivers and is the link between rural towns and ranches. It’s unbelievable really, and Ajax and I drove it every single day for 2 years.

This was the nearest “main drag” from the ranch we were living on. The ranch was at the dead end of a gravel road, 2 miles uphill from 200. Ajax and I would leave about the same time for work each morning, he’d turn west towards town. I’d turn east. He’d be running early and I’d be running late. The sections we drove differed greatly, even in a span of only 40 miles. Ajax’s stretch followed the Black Foot River. The road curved and dipped between steep belt cliffs on one side and a guard rail with a drop towards the river on the other. A section particularly conducive to black ice - a winter driving nightmare. A section also conducive to tourists in RVs - a summer driving nightmare.

My section went through the Potomac Valley, filled with ranches and dense morning fog. As I’d drive east through the valley and up a small pass the fog would lift and I’d have a view of the Swans, a mountain range east of the better known Missions. Two lanes the entire stretch, prohibit you from making any kind of pass around a plow, logging truck or school bus, although some people stupidly would, even in the fog. Highway 200 was a rather treacherous daily commute. As dangerous as it could be, it was incredible and certainly not boring, but when you drive it everyday, you tend to take the beauty for granted.

Even on the days we didn’t have to drive 200 we’d usually want to go to town, either for errands or a drink after a day’s work on the ranch. We’d bitch about it being just a drink as we’d still have to make it home thereafter. Inspired by Bill Kittredge’s short story “Drinking and Driving” we’d pretend to traverse the west on liquid courage and whim alone. The truth of the matter is that the road is more conducive to coffee than alcohol, so we’d sober up enough to dodge the deer and complain about how much time we spent on that goddamn highway. To be fair, it’s far less admirable in the dark, but we were setting ourselves up for a fuss by driving all the way to town for a light - beer buzz.

one of those nights we drove to town for a drink.

I remember leaving the ranch last August, packing up our things and driving to and from town multiple times a day. It was hot and smokey and the road was loaded with summer tourists & river rats retreating to the Blackfoot. I remember thinking about how the last thing I wanted to do was drive that road again and remember being grateful that the end was near. I remember wondering if that loathing behavior would subside with some time away and no obligation that required me to drive that road.

A couple weekends ago and about 6 months after moving back to town, we drove 200 for the first time in months. Some work east of the ranch brought us there early one Sunday morning. Everything was covered in a dusting of snow, the sun was making it all glisten and the sky still held a pastel hue from the sunrise. I sipped coffee from a ceramic mug and held it steadily away from my body mimicking the s-curves we swung around following the Blackfoot. I didn’t cuss over a spill or two like I usually would and gazed out the passenger window and truly appreciated it (for the first time) since leaving the ranch. Ajax and I talked about how ignorant we were, rushing from one place to the next, but giving ourselves a little grace to appreciate it now.

It’s easy to be blinded by the monotonousness of an overly frequented drive. So much so that you neglect the beauty that’s around you because you’re tied up in your less important obligations or complaints instead of just living and breathing and taking in what’s all around you.

My new commute is far less dramatic than that of the Blackfoot Corridor, but I’ve worked to find charm in quaint roadside bungalows and the same beat up Bronco I pass by everyday. Sometimes I’ll be stopped by a passing train - a curse for one who’s notoriously late, but a blessing for one who likes to look around. I happen to be both. I’ll notice Lolo Peak looming over Missoula or a headlamp halfway up Mt. Sentinel at 7:00 in the morning. Small beauties.

For anyone like me, who doesn’t have the luxury of going somewhere new and exciting everyday, I beg you (and myself) to take a drive - maybe your daily commute or maybe some other frequented section of a lonesome highway not to get somewhere by a certain time - but to appreciate what exists along the way.

look around

pull over

take a picture

light a cigarette

sip some coffee

in that order.

& just be.

Let me know what you see.