A Few Thoughts

U.S. Highway 10-A (“A” stood for “alternate”) ran by our front gate when I was a kid, on its way to a rendezvous with U.S. Highway 10 just west of Missoula. For the last 27 miles, it coincided with US 93. I’m not sure what happened at the intersection of the three, but I don’t think 10-A continued.

Sometime around when U.S. 10 was replaced by Interstate 90, U.S. 10-A became Montana 200. I believe this was just about the time I learned to drive, so it was a loooooong time ago. Since then, I have spent a lot of time driving up and down that road.

Since getting its new name, Highway 200 has stretched all the way across Montana. Just a bit west of that same front gate, 200 enters the state from Idaho, where it is also known as Highway 200, but only for 33 miles. It leaves Montana about 720 miles later at Fairfield, trailing into North Dakota, where it is also known as Highway 200. It then meanders in a square-cornered sort of way across that state and into Minnesota, where it gets almost all the way to Lake Superior before being swallowed up by US 2 a bit south of Wayina. It doesn’t reappear in Wisconsin, evidently having served its usefulness and mostly in the West.

In all of its travels through the four states, Highway 200 pretty much avoids cities of size. It skirts Missoula disguised as the outside lanes of I-90. It actually goes through Great Falls, but it sneaks through under the guise of U.S. 87/89. U.S. 89 bales at Belt and heads south to White Sulfur Springs. U.S. 87 and 200 stick together for quite a way, all the way through Lewistown, but 87 has to go south at Grass Range, leaving our road to itself for the last 225 miles of Montana.

I confess that I have never been past Jordan on Montana 200, but I’ve been that far. Sometime before I get too old to drive, I will see the rest of MT 200. I might even drive all the way to Lake Superior. It will not be a fast trip. No overnighters. No 600-mile days. If I drive 100 miles a day, it will still only take me a week to get from my house to Fairfield. That may be too fast. There is so much to see.

I am a wanderer, and my native road is as well. Even in the flats of North Dakota, it rambles. Its path across Montana is a long, ragged sine wave. MT 200 is a “take-your-time-and-take-a-look” highway; as opposed to a “get-there-as-fast-as-you-can” highway, though some folks treat it as such. Many more than need to, I think.

Sometimes I wonder what certain people are chasing — or what is chasing them. It might even be the same thing. Maybe if they slowed down, what they’re chasing will catch up with them. I tried that once, and it still works pretty well, when I remember to slow down. I have all I need and more, and I am grateful. I may not have everything I want, but want and need are different things. Some people chase so hard after what they want that they don’t get what they need.

A hazard of being a wanderer is the possibility of meandering off from geography and landing in philosophy. But geography and philosophy have a lot to do with each other. We are where we live. And where we live has changed very rapidly in the past couple of years. We all came here, stayed here or came back for our own disparate reasons. But, I doubt any of our reasons included wanting to live someplace where we would have to go faster. I invite you to remember that as you travel our native road, MT 200.

Sandy Compton is a writer, editor and publisher at Blue Creek Press in Heron. His book of essays, The Scenic Route: Live on the Road Between Hope and Paradise can be ordered at the Sanders County Ledger or at http://www.bluecreekpress.com/books.