I have no idea where to start.
In our shelter in Circle, MT, the beginning of the day went like this...
6am: Rain
7am: Rain
8am: Rain
9am: Rain
10am: Rain
11am: Rain
12pm: Rain stops
The conditions were grueling: cold, heavy winds, and rain. Of all days, we were going fifty miles north to Wolf Point (pop. 2000) while the winds were gusting west. We haven't had the winds at our backs for a long time and it wouldn't be today either.
The ride was pretty bad and monotonous.
Contrary to yesterday, all I wanted was to get to Wolf Point. The ride seemed to just go on and on and on. There was one stop in the town of Vida but there were no services or people. At 7pm, we headed the last twenty miles to Wolf Point. This part of the ride was beautiful with one viewpoint above the vastness of Montana, about thirty miles of visibility in all directions. We coasted into Wolf Point.
Before arriving, we'd talked to the police dispatcher about sleeping in the park. The only problem was the 100% chance of rain the next day and Matt, Josh, and I wanted a place to be able to sit tight and wait out the rain together. We called the police dispatcher if there was a shelter in the park. There wasn't but there was one in Sherman Park. When we got there, we thought it was a joke.
Dead center in downtown with bars all around, the "shelter" stood. It was actually a gazebo and cars went round and round the building. Spotlights shown down on us. We were on display. Despite our uneasiness about it, we set up our tents.
A man came up to the gazebo and started making conversation with Josh and Matt as I lay in my tent.
"You guys can stay with me. I just got a house, I live alone, it's really nice. I wouldn't camp here, man," Orlando told us.
"Ah, it's okay. We're tired and we've already set up our stuff. We really just wanna sleep," Josh told the man.
The conversation veered away from comfortable after that.
"People are gonna come up here and mess with your stuff, man. They don't give a shit here. There's gangs and all that," he warned.
"We're kinda banking on the rain keeping people away," Matt said.
"They don't care, man. They'll come up here and take your shit. Mark my words," Orlando said. At this he stood up and began making signs at a white truck driving around the block. "Hey Angel! Come over here! This guy's covered from head to toe with tattoos."
I came out of my tent after attempting to ignore the man. Things were getting a little out of hand.
I began talking with the man, attempting to get him on our side or at the very least, friendly.
Josh called the police to ask if there was a better place to go.
"No, no, no. You don't have to call the cops, man. Just come stay with me," Orlando continued.
Fat chance.
Officer Joey, a local cop, became our hero. Josh voiced his concern to Joey and he gave Josh a ride to a local KOA to see if we could get camping, which was closed. Then to a local baseball field, which was flooded. Josh was also almost a part of Officer Joey pulling a car over but Joey let him go.
Joey was a stout young officer with blonde hair and a deep, resolute voice. Finally, he came back with Josh to the gazebo as Matt and I stood watch. Josh was beaming.
"We got a hotel! And it's free!" Josh cheered.
"What?"
Joey explained, "Okay, we're gonna set you up at the Sherman Inn for the night. Don't worry about payment, the city will take care of it. Tomorrow, if you do decide to stay because of rain, gimme a call and I'll help you guys out."
What a guy. We were ecstatic. We shook his hand vigourously and patted him on the back. We just had to go down to the station, and sign some papers. Joey went back to the station.
We're packing up all of out gear when we suddenly hear the sound of two cars colliding with each other no more than 15 ft. away from the gazebo. A red sedan got t-boned by a maroon ford. The ford went flying off into the night.
"Josh, yo, call the cops," I said.
Everyone was okay at the scene but they knew exactly who the man was. It's also interesting to note that most of the people in the town of Wolf Point are Native American because the town stands on a reservation: Fort Peck Reservation. I vouched I would be a witness to the event.
Joey showed back up and gave us the paperwork for the hotel... and the accident. We could finally go to sleep... or so I thought. It was now 1:30am and one of the men, Cyrus, asked if any of us would drive the damaged car to his house. An awkward silence ensued. To hell with it, I'll take the car back.
Cyrus was drunk and didn't really give a damn about my help. I dropped it off at his house as a cop followed me all the way there and walked the ten blocks back to the hotel as the rain came down.
So! It's 3 in the morning and I am completely beat.
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