Do you know why Montana hated us? Because we don't.

It's big sky country - that's for sure. Beautiful mountains, broad plains of amber colored grasses. Truly a beautiful state.

But Montana set out to kill us from day one. The fact that we survived mostly intact is a miracle in itself.

It all began as we were driving to a KOA we had selected based on website information, user reviews and its proximity to Yellowstone's famous geyser Old Faithful. We had met our cousin Sid for lunch in Idaho and knew we'd be arriving pretty late to the campsite. Too late to do much more than pitch our tent and crawl into our sleeping bags.

We drove through those beautiful mountains and vast fields of grain. As night fell we found ourselves on a winding and precariously perched two lane road leading to Helena. It was nearing 10pm and the GPS said it was only another 30 minutes to our destination.

As we navigated the switchbacks at a steep downgrade it happened.

Montana's first attack.

It threw deer directly into our path. Meg was driving and did the best she could (thankfully we weren't going more than about 20-25mph due to the steep road). Avoidance would mean plunging to our deaths down a sharp cliff or slamming headfirst into the rock wall on our left.

The brakes screeched.

*thud*

I'm not sure who was more dazed me, Meg or the deer. It hopped up, shook its head and darted off down the cliff with its friends (yes, there were more than one).

I remember driving back to Phoenix from Fresno one Christmas and hitting a dog. I bawled like someone had just punched me in the face and killed my cat. It was awful. The dog was fine then, as was the deer now. Meg handled the whole thing much better than I had back then. She cried and I took over the driving.

We were filled with sadness, remorse that we couldn't have done anything else and wonder about how the deer was fairing.

Then we pulled into our KOA.

That somber mood quickly turned into shock, horror and absolute dismay. We had driven that far to a KOA that thought it was acceptable to place its tent campers at the end of the rows of its RV campers. What?

I don't know about you but I am not one to camp on what amounted to a median at the end of a parking lot full of noisy generators, RV's and a general store. To top it all off, it wasn't located along the lake as its website indicated. Oh no. It was located along the back wall of a residential neighborhood about a 1/2 mile from said lake.

Ugh. Last time I plan on staying at a KOA folks. Last.Time.

So we decide that we should just proceed along into the bustling metropolis that is Townsend Montana. (Yes, I didn't GET the name when I saw it on the map but quickly realized that Townsend is just exactly the right name for it. Why? Because the Town ends just where you'd think it would begin.)

We spent the night at the illustrious Mustang Motel. Where they advertise TV, Heat and A/C in every room. Don't believe them? Well, there's photographic evidence to support their claims.

The door to the room didn't have a dead bolt, there was a kamikaze fly that kept dive bombing our heads and the trains.

Oh. God. The. Trains.

It is helpful information to note that in the state of Montana it is a requirement that trains sound their horn at each and every road crossing. Each and Every Single One.

The trains run every 45 minutes at night. Guess where the illustrious Mustang Motel is located?

If you answered right next to the train tracks and near no less than 6 road crossings, you'd be correct.

We didn't notice this when we checked in and it sure was fun to be awoken by a blaring locomotive horn that sounded like it was coming from the bathroom it was so close.

Nice.

We checked out at 6:45 because spending 7 hours in that room would have been too much.

From there we decided to trust the nice lady that I spoke with at a campsite near Glacier National Park (a 5 hour drive north after our 4.5 hour drive south the previous day, YAY!).

It ended up working out nicely. Sid and his two boys came to stay with us for Labor Day weekend and we had a blast. Then Montana tried to kill us again. Twice.

(to be continued...)