6/9/11: Our border crossing from Montana into British Columbia was uneventful. We truthfully answered the normal questions: where are we going, how long will we be there, do we have any alcohol, tobacco, weapons? “OK, then, have a good trip!”
So we drove north with the Rocky Mountains constantly on our right, craggy peaks lined up behind us and in front of us, as far as the eye could see. We drove along the banks of one river after another: first the Stillwater, then the Kootenay, and finally the Columbia River -- shallow and braided here, but rushing towards a eventual powerful presence in the Columbia Gorge.
Rocky Mountain Bighorn Sheep frequent the area – so much so, that the town has erected yellow and black warning signs, festooned with bright orange blinking lights, to alert drivers. We saw one herd by the side of the road:
And then another herd came right up to the side of our car and proceeded to… well… ”you know” right outside my window. Sure, I took a photo!
(Sign strategically placed to avoid perpetrating any thought in your mind of “sheep porn.”)