way

We finally hit the black hills at dusk, after eight hours of driving, a long nap in the shade at a rest stop at the South Dakota border and myriad short stops to play fetch and burn some puppy energy out of the dog. The further west we drove, the fewer cars accompanied us on the road and weaving through the hills at night felt isolated despite miles of construction cones and abandoned equipment littering the verge. I stopped at an empty pull out around ten and shut everything down. The milky way stretched across the sky like a frayed ribbon and the big dipper hung on the horizon to the north, a beacon. I wanted to pitch a tent right there in the ditch and sleep under the stars all night. Instead, we opted for an overpriced ‘budget’ motel in Gillette but I’m pretty sure I would have slept better bundled in the grass in my own gear.

It was a long first day of driving, but tonight is a reunion with an old and dear friend in Missoula. The puppy is turning into a cozy truck dog and doesn’t seem too disturbed yet by her new, nomadic life. I am so happy to be in the west, but heartbroken that I don’t have time to explore this new topography. Some day, some year, we’ll get our footprints on this gateway to the west that has haunted Jess’ dreams since college. It was so hard to pass valleys and peaks, unseen in the dark, following the trail of stars last night.