Ain’t No Mountain High Enough

So, yeah, I’m a Montana girl, and I live on the doorstep of Glacier National Park. I have the Continental Divide outside my living room window. You would think I’d get enough of mountains.

Apparently not, because since the first of January, I’ve been on a mountain binge, thanks in no small part to my gift for remembering important details, like how you should check on the date of your nephew’s wedding in South Dakota before scheduling that medical coding seminar in Las Vegas, so you don’t pile them up all in the same half of the same month that you have to drive across the state for your husband’s post-op doctor’s appointment.

But hey, I did get a heaping helping of mountains out of the deal. Those of you who want to play along at home, just get out a map of the western half of the United States.

First there were the Bridgers, down by Bozeman, for our annual New Year’s Day ski trip at Bridger Bowl. (360 miles each way from here at the ranch):


Next up, we headed southeast tothe Black Hills of South Dakota, for a wedding at the Custer State Game Lodge and some quality time with a few good ol’ boys you might recognize. (747 miles each way from the homestead):


We staggered into the home place at nine thirty on Sunday night. At two thirty on Wednesday afternoon, I boarded a plane for Las Vegas (165 mile drive to the airport in Great Falls, awesome view of the Belt Mountains from the newly refurbished terminal). Yeah, I totally forgot to check my calendar before enrolling. And I was so road-lagged I also failed to get a picture as I lounged in the Sea-Tac airport and watched a truly spectacular sunset over the Olympic Mountains (yes, I flew through Seattle. Efficient, that’s me).

Lest you be tempted to give me the squinchy eyes for bitching about a trip to Sin City in January, may I just say that any training session involving medical coding and labeled ‘boot camp’ is not conducive to relaxation. However, I did manage to soak up some sun during our lunch breaks. Sadly, I couldn’t see the Nevada mountains from there, but the palm trees did sort of make up for it:


Then it was back on the plane, back to Seattle, then east over the Cascades. One of the joys of flying the puddle jumper fleet–you stay relatively close to the ground, so if the weather’s clear, the view is pretty damn incredible:


Finally, the home front. And bless their hearts, my own mountains put on a show to welcome me:


Lord, I am tired. If I have it my way, I won’t be leaving my zip code for at least a month, let alone my time zone. It’s not like I don’t have plenty of room to breathe right here at home:


Kari Lynn Dell – Montana for Real