Day 27: Virginia City to West Fork, Montana

I woke with a slight headache. I'd had the ocassional sniffle and cough since Jackson, and I was afraid I had a fever. Nonetheless, nothing for it but to get back on the road. I knew that I was stressing my immune system to the limits, but I was afraid that if I stopped, it would collapse entirely, leaving me sick for weeks.

I had camped at the V.C.R.V. to best position myself for the upcoming pass. As it turned out, I was only three miles from the top, and then eight easy miles to Ennis. If I'd known, I probably would've crested it the night prior and found a cheap motel in Ennis. Sure enough, Ennis, with less historic value than Virginia City, had $25/night rooms. I stopped for breakfast.



Beyond Ennis I entered the Madison Valley and the cloudless day grew hot with few opportunities for shade, and I felt my fever growing with the miles. Cameron was the only other town on my route that day, and it hardly even a town, with only an RV park and a combined general store / bar / cafe. I stopped there, napped gratefully in the cool grass beneath a shady tree, bought an ice cream, read awhile.

Sitting there on the lawn, I overheard speeches and applause; a meeting was being conducted in a large room behind the combined store / bar / cafe. During breaks, serious looking people stood outside with clipboards making calls from their cellphones. At least one was in uniform, and I wondered if they were law enforcement or area officials or perhaps the Madison Valley Chamber of Commerce.



I returned to the road, resolved to leave earlier the following day and travel in the cool hours of the morning. The sun wore on. I road over a bridge spanning a small creek bordered by trees, and took a break. Beneath the bridge, a large, active colony of cliff swallows had built a large cluster of globular nests. The water beneath the bridge was frigid, shallow and swift; I entered only up to my calves, wetted my shirt, and even that was temperature change enough to give me chills.



I continued on. I had perfect visibility ten, twenty miles down the valley, and I could see a line of trees far ahead. To my right was a dark slash in the earth - the deep channel cut by the Madison River. Looking around, I realized that the entire valley showed signs of violent erosion, its walls crenellated, its floor stratified, as the turbulent Madison River rolled and twisted in its course over geological ages.



I reached the end of my day at West Fork. It's not labeled as a town, and I'm still unsure if it's the name of the area, or only the RV/cabin park that lies there, just across a bridge from a more upscale angler's resort. My map showed services just a half mile down the road. I tried that first, and found nothing. There were no stores, and the cabins that appeared to have once been rentals now showed signs of long term occupancy. I turned back.

I crossed this bridge 6 times

After my feverish day, I wanted comfort. I tried the angler's lodge, which lay on the bank of the Madison, where several people in rubber waders stood in the water casting lines. I approached an open door, beyond which lay a fancy dinner table set with red wine glasses. A tall, broad man filled the door frame and asked, "Can I help you?" in a way that made it clear, in a firm, friendly way, that he was coming out to speak to me, I was not going in to speak to him. In the outdoor light, I saw that he had dark hair with a touch of steel, swept back toward a possible ponytail. Indian, or half, I thought.

I asked if they offered accommodations, and he explained that they only had an all-inclusive three day package. That door was closed, but he was friendly, and interested in my trip, and we stood and chatted for a while. I learned that he spent half the year there and half in Cape Cod (where it was implied that he ran another inn). As for the missing services a half mile south, he explained that the Sun Ranch, which I'd passed coming in, had recently been sold (by actor Steven Segal) to a new owner, who was extensively developing it as a resort for the wealthy, and he'd also bought up much of the surrounding area to house his employees. He finished by recommending the RV park just across the bridge, or the free camping land just nearby. He offered to help with provisions if he could (again making it clear that I was not invited to dinner).

And so, I crossed the bridge to the West Fork RV park. I stepped into the office, which was hotter than the evening air. A scented candle on the office desk filled the air with a suffocating fragrance, thought the office appeared empty. I poked around, and a woman appeared from a side room, seeming slightly scattered, a quality she retained throughout our transaction. A cabin was available for me and I was happy to have it at any price. The office sold a small selection of food, but very little that I could eat. I bought the day's last home made cinnamon roll and settled in to my little cabin off the Madison. It turned out to be one of the nicer rooms I've stayed in, with an open, functional kitchen layout and a small porch. I ate my cinnamon roll on the porch while I listened passively to the conversations of other guests. Before I turned in, I set my alarm for 6am, mindful to be off before the day's heat.