Chicagoans, the time has come to defend our civic honor against a large enemy: Montana.
They are trash-talking us, Chicago! Montana is thrusting its mountainous finger right in our Midwest faces, taunting us with its magnificent scenery and world-class outdoor recreation.
Are we going to take it, Chicago? Are we just going to let Montana kick Lake Michigan sand in our faces?
Join me, friends: Let’s tell Montana to fly-fish this.
The Chicago Tribune hereby announces “Take THAT, Montana,” a photo campaign in which we are asking readers to assert their civic pride.
Post your best photos of Chicago-area nature to chicagotribune.com/nature: woodlands, wildflowers, lakes, birds, deer, butterflies — anything that proves that we’re in the outdoor beauty game too.
Let’s show our civic pride, people, and show Montana — and each other — what we’ve got.
It’s on. Bring it, MT. We are going to make you IL.

It’s all in good humor, of course, and I have no problem with Chicago trying to generate some civic pride in their community.
But…really? As if ANY place could top Montana in natural beauty and scenic wonder, much less a major metropolitan area!

I try to avoid Montana in the winter for obvious reasons, however, I got sent to a small town about eighty miles from Glacier National Park, so I had to go.

I left Butte Montana, headed North to Great Falls, and wow, did I get hit with ole man winter. It took five hours to drive 154 miles.

The view of the Rockies from this little town of Choteau was breath taking. Marvelous. As far as you could see from right to left were fantastic snow covered Mountains. It was like looking at a winter paradise.

In the middle of the mountains was the small town of Lincoln. Yup, there is a Lincoln Montana. They were knee deep in snow, and one guy was out in a t-shirt shoveling snow in eight degree weather. I guess he must be used to it.

Full article here.

Some cool Montana train pics over at Dogcaught; best line: “Don’t let anyone tell you this part of Montana is flat!”

Dirty Red Commie caught Tom Servo and Crow watching the Olympics – at least on an NBC affiliate in Montana.

Growing up in a small town in the middle of nowhere, the loudest and most oft-voiced lament was, “Nothing exciting ever happens around here.”

As fairly recent events have proven, this isn’t always the case.

Of course, being a relatively young western town, there are plenty of stories about exciting stuff that had already happened.

Since we lived about an hour’s drive from Yellowstone Park, we made it up to that area quite a bit. We didn’t go into the park itself very often — a couple of times in the winter (on snowmobiles, which is awesome) and a couple of times in the summer. Yellowstone was right in our backyard, so it wasn’t really a big deal for us. Sometimes we never realize how fortunate we are!

The trip from Ennis to West Yellowstone always took us past Earthquake Lake (known locally as Quake Lake) and Hebgen Lake.

Earthquake Lake is so named because on the night of August 17, 1959, one of the most powerful quakes in the lower 48 states shook the Hebgen Lake area, and created Earthquake Lake.

Most newspaper and magazine accounts refer to it as The Night the Mountain Fell.

The earthquake was (depending on which source you read) 7.3 to 7.8 on the Richter Scale. The violent shaking cause the side of a mountain to dislodge, and plunge into the Madison River and 400 feet up the opposite side of the valley. The force and air displacement from the plunge was enough to overturn cars in the area.

90 million tons of debris moved from one side of the valley to the other in an instant.

28 people lost their lives that night.

You can look at some photos and see for yourself the forces at work, but a mere photo doesn’t do justice to the sense of awe you feel when you are there on the ground.

On the opposite side of the mountain from the slide, there now stands a visitors center. Next to the center is a boulder as big as a house, with a plaque inscribed with the names of those who perished.

I’ve never actually taken the time to go in there, as I’ve heard a lot of the stories first hand.

Doc Losee tells the story of what happened in Ennis that night. No one knew the status of Hebgen Dam, and with the aftershocks, they didn’t know if it would hold. The town was set to evacuate, if need be. The warning sirens were tested, and people were ready to roll. As they learned later, if the dam had gone the water level of the Madison River would have only been raised 3 or 4 inches.

Dad graduated from EHS in 1959, so he was fresh out of school, and waiting to go into the Army. As I have heard, he and his buddies, under the guise of helpfulness, offered to evacuate perishables to high ground above town. Many people took them up on this offer, and while most of the contents of refrigerators made it to high ground — a great deal of beer did not. (I heard this story 2nd or 3rd hand, and haven’t verified it with Dad yet.)

While I have no memories of the quake itself, the area has been imprinted on me pretty firmly.

On a straight stretch of road next to Hebgen Lake, there was a fence adjacent to the old roadway. You could see how the earth had turned them from straight lines into zig-zags. The fence has long since been repaired, and the roadway grown over, but I can see it as if I were there.

I can picture my Grandfather standing in one of the scarps, where the ground fell, and trying to imagine how a chunk of earth could just drop 15 feet.

For some reason, though, the most poignant image to me is where old US 287 simply disappears into the south end of the lake. I don’t know why, but that imparted to me more about the rapid brutality of the quake than anything else could.

There was a road that had gone somewhere, but now it only led to the dark bottom of a lake that was conceived in tragedy and violence.

Seems we got a national AP mention this weekend, a story all about how Butte’s Berkeley Pit reels in the tourists. There’s some other, historical information about Butte in the story too.

I can say what I want about the Butte of today (and I usually do) but I still contend that it’s a pretty interesting place historically. We are kind of the roughneck stepchild of Montana, and most of us are fine with that. Politically, it’s almost the only place in the state where I’d fit in anyway. I think I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’ll probably be here a while. Which means, look for more Butte stuff from me on the Big Sky Blog.

It should look smashing when it’s done or at least that’s what I’m hoping for.

Currently in Kalispell, the weather is a cool 71 degrees but you could never tell it by looking outside, there’s a slight wind and cloudy skies and it looks like it’s going to storm.

I am a native of Montana, born and raised in Kalispell. In fact, I’ve lived in the same building since I was born – so yeah – really native. However I hope to move in two years, probably to California for schooling and then off to see wherever Uncle Sam puts ole Jen.

I’m also on the FHS Debate Squad and I told David that when we come to Great Falls – we’re kicking their ass. So hopefully I can carry through on that promise/threat.

Have a great Sunday everyone.