20 June: East Glacier to Culbertson

I woke up at about 6:00 Friday morning, not feeling very refreshed. I quickly changed, packed up, and got moving, before the crowd started to form for the early train. I was a little surprised and relieved that no security guards or sheriff deputies had bothered me during the night.

I walked back down to the gas station to discover it didn't open until 7:00, so I stepped out onto the highway and started hitchhiking. At about 7:10, someone stopped for me. It was Pete, who has taught school for 27 years in Browning. He drove me to Cut Bank and dropped me off in the middle of town, where he turned off to go to the school.

I walked to the opposite end of town and stuck my thumb out. I had made a sign that read "SHELBY," but it turns out that across Montana, US-2 (also known as "the Hi-Line") is mainly a locals' highway, which meant that very few people were traveling that far. This was to be a day of short hops. In Cut Bank, I eventually got picked up by DG, who was, fortunately, headed to Shelby.

DG dropped me at a gas station, where chatted with a couple Itepped out onto the corner and stuck my thumb out, also holding up a sign reading "HAVRE," and was quickly picked up by an older man named Mark. He took me to Chester.

Mark dropped me off at a grocery store on the edge of town. I refilled my water and started hitchhiking again. After a few minutes, I was picked up by Bo, who I found out after some conversation actually knew my previous driver. He dropped me off on the highway outside of Rudyard, which truly felt like the middle of nowhere.

I waited less than ten minutes before being picked up by Tyler, who was surprised to see me there because he had just passed that spot a couple minutes before I got dropped off there. Tyler is in the National Guard and had just returned two weeks ago from a one-year tour in Iraq. He took me the rest of the way to Havre.

Havre's main street was under construction. I had to walk about three miles from one end of town to the other, all through a dusty construction zone, and all on mounds of dirt because the sidewalks had been torn up. I ignored all of the "SIDEWALK CLOSED" signs because there was no other direct route to where I was going.

I stopped to eat, used the bathroom, and made a sign that said "WILLISTON" -- I wanted out of Montana by nightfall; this state just stretches on far too long! I walked about a mile out of town, held up my sign and thumb, and in about 20 minutes I was picked up by Chris, who was on his way to Malta to perform a wedding.

Chris dropped me off in front of the Hitching Post Cafe in Malta. It was hot, and I'd been traveling since about 7:00 (it was now 4:15), so I decided to treat myself to a milkshake. I went inside and discovered that I was the sole customer. The waitress was lounging and reading. I plopped my pack down, propped it against the wall, and took a seat at the counter. I inquired about a milkshake, and she told me chocolate and strawberry would blend the best, so I chose strawberry, and a cup of coffee. I was getting very tired. After an hour or so of enjoying my milk shake, two cups of coffee, and chatting and flirting a bit with the waitress, I decided it was time to get to the road again.

I took my sign out and hitchhiked directly across the street from the Hitching Post. After 25 minutes, Chance & Andrew stopped for me. They were on their way to Wolf Point, which the friendly waitress had cautioned me against spending the night in, but Mark (my driver from Shelby to Chester) had grown up there and told me it would be okay, "just don't get stuck in Poplar." Wolf Point took a while to get out of. The local police officer kept driving out to check on me, but never said anything. One man stopped and offered me a ride to Poplar, which I declined, thinking of what I'd been told about getting stuck there. He sort of made fun of me for not accepting his ride, saying, "You think you'll have better luck here?" I told him not necessarily, but I'd rather spend the night in Wolf Point than Poplar. He nodded, as if agreeing with me, wished me luck, and took off. Eventually, Dwight stopped in his pickup for me. He was on his way to Bainville (near the North Dakota border), but had to stop in Poplar for a few minutes to visit the priest (his brother had just died today).

Dwight dropped me off in front of LeeAnn's Motel in Poplar, so I could try for a ride to Williston while he was talking to the priest. He said if I were still there when he came by, he'd pick me up again and drive me to Bainville. After 10 minutes or so, just as it was starting to get dark, the guy who had originally stopped for me in Wolf Point pulled up and said, "you made it here after all." I told him the story, and he said, "You really can't be here once it gets dark. How about if I give you a ride to Culbertson, just outside the reservation, and you can wait for the guy there." I was a little uncertain, but I decided to take him up on the offer.

In the end, it proved to be a good decision. He drove me to a park right in Culbertson where I could camp for free (in fact, there was already another tent up with three bicycles and a ton of gear left outside it -- gutsy, I thought). After deliberating about whether to try to catch Dwight again, I decided that since it was already dark I'd be better off just going to sleep.

I set up my tent, crawled inside, looked at my map and my little log book, and did some calculating:
438 miles
9 rides
15 hours

No wonder I was tired!