Brydn's 2003 Travel Journal - Montana: "Have You Found Any?"

Brydn's 2003 Travel Journal - Montana: "Have You Found Any?"

Pg 76

I get rested up and eat. I pan along the river on a hot day. I meet up with a group of rafters late at night. It's a star party.



9:41 AM, 08/02/2003.

- Camp Special -
* 2 large potatoes
* Beef bullion
* Salt
* Pepper
* 1/3 summer sausage diced up

Boil potatoes in water until soft. Add meat (This is the tricky part because of the yellow bees). Eat hot.

I got up at 7:00 AM yesterday. I got 8 hours sleep last night. Cook coffee. Cook stew. Not much of an appetite lately. It must be all the excitement. I pop open the hood on the truck. I get a bucket of water, a rag, and a motel bar of soap. I wash off the dust on the engine. A park Ranger comes by in her truck. She cleans the floor in the pit toilet. She doesn't stop but waives "Hi" coming and going. She must have know I'm gonna complain about the bees. I finish up while a second ranger comes past. He doesn't look at all. He may be checking the other Ranger's work.

I get my red beers, my placer things and find a giant carnelian stone in the river to sit on. A seemingly endless parade of tubers, rafters and canoeists float past.

"Have you found any?" "I'm trying to pay off the mortgage."
"Have you found any?" "Brought dis wit me ta look good."
"Have you found any?" "No, I'm gonna get a dredger."
"Are you getting any?" I will not say (I'm sure they mean gold).

Well, this goes on for hours. By the end of the day, I have to come up with better answers.

"Are you finding any?" "I'm going back to playing guitar ...being a carny ...betting on horses."
"Have you found anything?" "I found Kurt Cobain," squirting my arm with the eye dropper.

That's enough. Have I taken Kurt's name in vain? I'm water wrinkle wet. It's hot out so I don't mind. I change my clothes. I read my music journal some. I go for a late day nap so I can star party.

I wake up hearing people talking over the bank, "OK, 1-2-3! Okay, ready? 1-2-3." I hear a door slam. I sit up in the dark. I can't see a thing. It's about 11PM. I load my gun, cock it and leave it on my pillow. I get my shoes on and go to see what's up. There's two dudes deflating their raft. They're talking about drinking their last two Sparks. I offer up the last of my Scotch in a plastic cup. I'm down to my last beer. They drink their last Sparks. I drink my last beer. We talk about how different Montana's laws are compared to Oregon; the open container law, handgun on the dashboard law, 75 MPH speed limit.

Hours later their buddies pull in with one car. They can't find the other car in the dark. They get their directions and leave once again. The one dude, Mark with the cowboy hat, nods off against a rock. I get my guitar and play tunes. The other dude hums along and makes up songs about Mark because he's passed out there. My watch alarm chimes midnight. Maybe 20 minutes later, two cars with the rafters come back up the road and pull in. The four of them put the raft on top of a small car that smells like burning oil. They take off going down a wrong turn and a head into the dark. The evening is warm. Lots of stars out for the start party; the Big Dipper, the King and Queen, the Little Dipper and the Dragoon.


I get rested up and eat.

I pan along the river while rafters float past.

I meet a group of rafters around midnight.