The Gallatin County Courthouse Museum

Went into town and revisited the great museum cases in the second floor of the Gallatin County Courthouse. Here's the key to the first jail in Bozeman, numerous suspect fossils and indian arrowheads, a tear gas gun, badger claws. A fabulous collection of oddities that I knew intimately as a kid.

Key to the first jail in Bozeman


An indian skull



Badger claws


Cups for bleeding. (it was the inspiration for one of my recent drawings)


Mineral formation, I think



feeling good about this all, I go back to my truck, finding the rear driver's-side tire flat, no spare for our transcontinental trip somehow, another call to my pals at triple-A, the only good thing about dropping $320 at Tire-rama is that it's located near the Hillcrest Cemetary where my dad is buried, on the same block as the public library with free wireless.


A MAN OF MANY INTERESTS. HE WAS
A TEACHER, SCIENTIST, FATHER AND FRIEND

PALMER DAVID SKAAR
MARCH 14, 1923 - MARCH 30, 1983

MY QUESTION, ANSWER IN THE FEWEST WORDS, WHAT
SORT OF LIFE IS IT AMONG THE BIRDS? ARISTOPHANES

yesterday, armed with a new set of tires but still no spare, we attempted flathead pass, the place I keep calling sixteen mile canyon is further beyond. I did have backup this time, not from AAA but from Vickie, Sherie, Amy, and Joana in Betty's Chevy Lumina. You come all the way north out of Bridger Canyon on paved highway, but then turn left at Seitz road. It tears off straight across the open prairie to re-engage the mountain range four or five miles west.



A little ways down the dusty road we saw Mountain bluebirds sitting on the barb wire fence.

A couple on ATVs showed us the good forest service road when we finally beached the Lumina. It turned out to be a super trail, downhill both ways through a meadow, some aspen, some spruce, a tinkling creek and its subsidiary.


(in this photo, Vickie, Amy, Sheree, Gloria Popadopolis)





Wildflowers like mad this year, little long-stalked daisies. There's a bend in the road that smells intensely like the heavy citrus smell of tomato, we tracked it down to a dull green ground plant with a small yellow flower. No taste to it, and I did not die.


Indian Paintbrush

I finish up the day with another spooky ride up bridger canyon--the last half of the fifteen mile road is dark at night, there are almost no signs, in my headlights white fog swirls like ghostwinds across the yellow gray road, distantly heat lightning is outlining the mountain range to my left with an occasional concussive glow.