Butte

Frost covers the card reader on the side door as Sally and I make our way in from the only patch of exposed turf on the La Quinta grounds. She licks the last few drops from the mini creamer cups, my first cup is hot and steaming on the arm of the lobby sofa as I write. It’s 6:30 in Butte Montana, the place where my Dad was born in 1940.

We left Coeur d’Alene yesterday around noon after ruling out our interest in Twin Lakes Villiage as a potential place for another condo. It just did not have much going for it. Over the pass, Montana Bar in DeBorgia, 50,000 Silver Dollars, winding our way along the St. Regis River, gray runs broken by lively riffles, surely holding native trout. I log this away for another day.

Old Mill Loop in St. Regis - Clark Fork River

Sonya and I make a pit stop at a service station in St Regis and then drive east, just out of town a right turn onto Old Mill Road, a dirt loop that follows a hairpin turn in the Clark Fork River.  Lot 32 has a rough lane leading to a flat dotted with mature pines and firs, a steep rock hillside rises from the edge of the smooth blue green water on the opposite bank.  The smell takes me back to deep memories of the mountains, people and experiences of my life and in the coolness of the fall air I see myself here again.

Trestle Creek holds more wonder with its mountain golf course, affordable lots and captivating views of the river, my mind races at the possibilities of retirement.  With a feeling of hope and excitement we drive east to Missoula for dinner, then on to Butte. Some tv, ice cream in our room and we are out.