Boston to Butte Epic Road Trip

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Epic; that is the word that keeps coming out of my mouth, when referring to the longest road trip I have ever taken—Boston to Butte. Up to this point, I have only done road trips in the west, say Salt Lake to San Fran, Portland, Montana…whatever, but never that far east. Every time I have traveled east, it has always been a flight to one specific destination. To get the chance to travel from Boston all the way west to Butte; to see the ongoing changes in geography, topography, to talk to and meet people in those areas, and see all the similar/different has been…well epic.

 

I love the east coast, the people are great, it’s so green especially compared to the west, fun happening cities, and best of all the cities are so close to each other. Think about it, if you live in SLC, or Denver, or Phoenix, you have literally hours before you get to another large city, with the exception of the California coast line.

 

This was my first time to visit Maine and New Hampshire—great time. We drove from my friend’s house in Marshfield Mass, which is about 40 mi from south of Boston, to the small coastal town of Ogunquit Maine. We got a room right on the beach, and had a wonderful dinner. Maine just may be my favorite city on the east coast.

 

“River Tales” is dedicated to “fishing the world one river at a time,” and although this trip was not about fishing, isn’t everything about fishing? Before leaving, I packed a rod in hopes of running into some small stream in Pennsylvania, or upstate New York, Minnesota, Wisconsin whatever comes along--whatever. How am I supposed to drive through that many states and not come across a few rivers, and fish them for even a half hour?

 

Hate to say it, but the only thing I say (off I-90) was huge slow moving water. It was not trout water, and I just was not geared up to fish for the slow, warmer water species. I’m not against fishing for Bass or Carp or Stripers or whatever, but I was just not prepared for that situation.

 

Once I hit Wyoming, we drove over the Tongue River, and I had to pull over and at least take a look. Hell, I was the one driving, and it wasn’t really even something I did, the truck just sort of decided to take a break and pull over. Once I took a look, I just sort of felt obligated to give it a shot. It was fantastic; I wasn’t there for more than a half hour and I caught a couple small ones, and missed a big bow on a dry.

 

Montana really is the holy land, from Billings to Butte there are more fabled rivers than you can shake your rod at—ha ha. It has big water, much bigger than I am accustomed to in Utah. I sampled the mighty Yellowstone, and one of its tribs—Boulder Creek in the town of Big Timber. Just listen to those names, if you speak them out loud, you must use your deepest most manly voice! If you’ve never been there picture a terrain similar to Utah’s but less quakie, and more pine. Big Sky country is very high mountain big rugged water and a lot of it. I have fished other rivers in this area a few times before, but this is my first time this far east in Montana. There is reason person from all over the world flock to this place, and a reason why Robert Redford filmed Brad Pitt and his stunt double reaching out with 80 foot dry fly casts—Montana really is that special.

 

In total we were on the road for 5 solid days, taking I-90 was not the quickest route from Boston to SLC. I still can’t believe we didn’t kill each other, or that were still friends. Who knows perhaps I’m actually growing up and that means maybe I’m getting more patient. No matter whom you are with, in a little Toyota single cab pick-up you are going to get on each other’s nerves. But we both really held strong. In fact if we had more time I think we both would have been up to going all the way to Seattle—coast to coast baby Boston to Seattle. But I was gone long enough and I really did miss all my ladies back home.

 

This trip has had a profound impact on me. I have developed a deeper love and enriched passion for the “road trip.” I have a real bug in me now to keep doing it. I want to hit Hwy 10 which goes from L.A all along the bottom of the country to Florida. If you really wanted to get crazy you could take the 10 down to Florida, and then take I-40 back home.

 

It is amazing to see the country gradually change as you pass from state to state. To go from the east coast with its deep green trees through upper state New York and Pennsylvania then down into the Midwest and the immense amount of corn fields. As you get further west into Minnesota and South Dakota you see it change into wheat, then “Welcome to the West,” as you enter Wyoming. The West is the best, and my body felt a sense of home when I saw the sagebrush in Wyoming and the endless vastness that the west has. I felt like a fish taken out of its native waters, returning home and all the elements around me telling me welcome back (over dramatic).

 

Where ever you are in the world, people are people, and it’s amazing how much we all act alike. But even within your own nation, there are such obvious differences in people’s attitudes, manners, the pace they move, the way they talk, their accents… even when they are neighboring states. Prime example is the Boston accent; (all about the hard ‘R’ sound) some people in the community have a very discernable accent while their neighbor will not. Drive a few hours to Rhode Island and the similar accent changes slightly. The east coast moves faster--us west coast folk claim they are harder or rude on the coast. Every time I have been there, people have always been very nice and polite to me. But there is an edge that just isn’t there with us happy pioneer folk.

I wanted to discover the ma and pa shops, I wanted to break away from the chains and franchises. I wanted to feel the “Heartbeat of America” if you will. It’s still there, and each city has its own feel, but the pulse has moved to the beat of one heart; the corporate American heart.

 

I still have a lot of America to see, and I want to see her roads, her little towns, her people—in all their shapes and sizes. Oh, and one more thing, let’s not forget her rivers. Maybe next time I can carve out more time to explore more of her waters.