This weekend I stumbled across a strange scene. If you drive north from Missoula on Highway 93, take a left at the National Bison Range, and dare to continue on County Road 382, you might be surprised at what you find. At first the drive is quite scenic. You see gentle hills that roll into mountains topped with a sifting of snow, frosted evergreens peppering the hillsides, and wide open spaces as far as the eye can see. What you don't see much of is other cars or signs of civilization.
Somewhere along the desolate stretch between Dixon and Hot Springs (my destination for the weekend), the scenery takes a turn for the...err...weird. On the left side of the road, starkly contrasted among miles of empty pastures, lies a decorative junkyard of old cars, wagons, farm equipment, metal artwork, wooden storefronts and - you guessed it - bikes. High wheelers, tandems, cruisers and more dot the empty field, several of which are "manned" by spooky skeletons made of animal skulls and stuffed clothes. 
One can only wonder how this place came to be. Who put this here? Where did they get all of this junk? And, most importantly, WHY? For me, the grotesquely awesome scene conjured up thoughts of a cross-country bike trip gone horribly wrong:
Took a wrong turn in western Montana. Blew a flat. Caught in an unexpected blizzard. Came across a herd of angry cows....
You get the picture.
I guess I'll never know the real story, but this bicycle graveyard will surely remain a stopping point in my annual Hot Springs retreat for years to come. Perhaps next year it will have disappeared completely.
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