Big Sky Country
“It seems to me Montana is a great splash of grandeur. The scale is huge but not overpowering. The land is rich with grass and color, and the mountains are the kind I would create if mountains were ever put on my agenda.”
— John Steinbeck
If you get to drive through Montana for an hour without seeing anyone else on the road and suddenly get pulled over by a policeman, don’t worry, it’s quite likely that the policeman was feeling bored, and he just wanted to have a little company. The vast forestlands, the jagged mountains, the prairie badlands, the wild river canyons, the uncluttered vistas, and the endless sky make up most of this state, aptly named, the “Big Sky Country”.
Big Sky, the mountain town is located a bit off the beaten path. About 45 miles from the Western Entrance of Yellowstone National Park, nestled into the heart of the Madison range, this laidback outdoor adventure town offers year-round activities. From skiing to climbing, from hiking to biking, from fishing to horseback riding, from backpacking to anything else outdoorsy you can think of, this town probably has something to offer.
And the cherry on top that makes Big Sky, a tranquil mountain town is the majestic Gallatin river. This quiet and beautiful river flows out of Gallatin Lake, Wyoming, and runs for about 115 miles before joining two other rivers (Madison and Jefferson) near Three Forks, Montana, which is the origin of River Missouri.
I guess I must stop romanticizing this town, the river, and the state.
This was my second time visiting the state and maybe because I got to spend more time during this visit, I have to admit that I fell in love with Montana. And the Gallatin river and the town of Big Sky may have played a huge role in it.
One thing that connects Big Sky, Montana with Breaux Bridge, Louisiana is water.
Having never visited this bayou town in Louisiana, I had to rely on Adam to educate me.
Nestled in the heart of cajun country, this little town is situated along “Bayou Teche”. And it’s apparently the “crawfish capital of the world”, where an annual crawfish festival is held every May.
Adam
Adam was doing his morning shift at the front desk. I had to break a $20 bill because I needed some loose cash for tipping the waitress at the breakfast lobby. I felt guilty the previous day when I couldn’t tip this young woman as I didn’t have any cash with me then — so I decided to make it up today.
“Hey, Morning! Can you break this twenty for me?”
“Good morning, sir. Sure, I can do that.”
It was a very transactional conversation. But something about Adam gave me an impression that I could engage in a real conversation with him if I caught him again.
So I made an attempt to catch him the next morning at the same time when I was more relaxed and had a few minutes before we headed out for the day’s adventures.
“Are you from around here?”
“No. I am actually from Louisiana. I come up here a few months every year for work.”
“Wow. Do you like it here?”
“Yes. I do. This time, I think I have moved here for good.” I could see Adam beaming with a big smile.
“Right. It’s easy to like this place. Isn’t it?”
“You got it..I love this place. I love Montana.”
“Me too.”
For the next few minutes, I asked him questions and he kept responding eagerly. It was like an interview but it wasn’t one. His life story was fascinating to me and I just wanted to learn more. Someone in their 20s, relocating from the swamps to the valleys, fully optimistic, and yet completely unsure of what the future holds for him. A story I could relate to. Somewhat.
Adam educated me about Breaux Bridge and shared with me his early life there. He worked many odd jobs back home — from auto shops to restaurants to hotels, he had managed to earn a living in his home town and was quite happy, until a friend introduced him to the abundant land called Montana where the elevation is usually higher than the population in any town. He was specifically hired for one summer to work at this lodge, which by the way, is your perfect mid-range lodge, with all the ruggedness of a log cabin and the modernness of a hotel.
Adam loved the laid back environment of the mountain town and the friendly people of the town, that is, if he ever ran into people, and decided to come back every summer for the next 5 years. The lodge management liked him on their part and they didn’t mind a friendly and charming young man sporting Cajun English with a southern drawl greeting their guests.
This is his sixth summer here at the lodge.
“I actually came here in February, earlier this year. Did some work during the busy ski season. It’s different. Very different from the summer crowd.”
“Must have been a temperature shock for you?”
“I like this cold weather. I mean, I didn’t grow up in a cold place. But I kinda like it.”
As another guest walked to the front desk, I stepped away — not to be an unwanted distraction for Adam. I ambled towards the breakfast cottage.
While I was waiting in line, I was admiring the adaptability of Adam. I was trying to picture his home in the town of Breaux Bridge and the summers in the swamps. That 15 minute conversation took me to the Louisiana I am familiar with and the places I had been to.
Even though it’s a bit of a cliche to say that each state has a unique character, I feel only a few states have characters so strong that you remember them distinctly. The very thought of the state brings you the feeling of being there. Louisiana is one such state for me.
Is it because there’s something in the air in Louisiana? It’s not the vibrant energy from carnival season, it’s not the mouth-watering aroma of all of that amazing creole / cajun food, and it’s not even the music (although it could be argued that there’s no escaping that). Sure, they all are very much in the air in Louisiana, but it’s something more.
It’s a strange feeling — a heavy dose of déjà vu.
It must be Louisiana’s plantation history, and certainly not the tales of voodoo and spiritual practices.
As my thoughts drifted to imagining Adam’s life in Louisiana, his work, etc. I heard a soft voice interrupting.
“What would you like, sir?”, the Asian woman behind the breakfast table asked me politely.
I listed the items I wanted and she prepared four boxes per my request.
“This COVID situation must have changed your job description, huh?”
“Actually, I don’t do breakfast duty here usually. I work at the restaurant next door. This is not bad. Easy. No mess. Nothing to clean as people can’t eat here”, she continued with her sorting and packing.
“I can imagine.”
“Where are you traveling from?, she asked.
“Michigan. We are on a long road trip.”, I was ready to pick my boxes up.
“And you? Where are you from?”
“Louisiana. Moved here 5 years ago.”
“Wow. Quite a move. Do you like it here?”, I couldn’t control myself from asking the question.
“I love Montana.”
“Me too. Well. Thank you for breakfast. And have a great day!!”
“You too, sir!”
I was tempted to make the same assumption you are making right now.
“Do Adam and this woman..??”
But then I resisted that temptation.
The breakfast that morning was a very contemplative one.
Change can be a wonderfully invigorating experience for some.
Change can be a monstrously terrifying experience for some.
But sometimes when you like where you end up, you probably don’t think much about how you got there.
It may have been the repeated conversations about one’s love for Montana.
It may have been the deep thoughts around change as a concept and how people adapt to change when they move to a far off land while trying to remember how I managed such a change in my life a couple of decades ago.
I don’t know for sure.
But what I know for sure is this.
That the eerie coincidence of meeting two people in Montana in a span of 20 minutes and learning that they both are from Louisiana must have something to do with it.
There was a heavy dose of déjà vu.
