This morning, we packed up, got out of here by 10:40, and were headed for Fairmont Hot Springs resort. We arrived by noonish, unhitched, ditched the dogs, and went to Anaconda. The name trips me out every time, because I’m always thinking of snakes.
We had to call my Uncle Dave, and tell him we aren’t going to make it to Colorado, and it turns out, he was going to be, and in fact already has been, out of town himself the entire time. We are rather miffed that he couldn’t be bothered to tell us this earlier. We don’t feel so guilty that we are missing him now.
‘The Daily Grind’ was where we stopped for lunch, my pick. It was excellent. Some cheerleaders were all eating together with their boyfriends at one table, several generations from great-grandma to baby girl were at another table, and some old people who get together every day for lunch were all there. The boys got burgers, I got a gyro salad (who would have thought, good Greek food in Anaconda?) and Mom got a sandwich the size of her head. It was quick and hot, and after we ate, we talked to our waitress then headed out to Phillipsburg.
It almost became a ghost town in the ‘30s until someone realized: Tourism. The gems they used to mine are now for sale, and there are several antique stores there. The first, and most important thing we did there, was go to The Sweet Palace, a candy store. It was little Honeyduke’s in Hogsmeade, except all wood paneling and western flavor. There was so much candy, it was overwhelming. The taffy machine was pulling huckleberry taffy in the front window, and they gave us pieces to try. There were jars of candy sticks, boxes of candy bars, bowls and jugs of jelly beans or taffy or hard candies or chocolate covered things, and a basket of sour fruit laces and a lollipop tree, all labeled. There were plastic bags everywhere for you to fill with whatever you wanted. In the center was a bar with windows of all the kinds of chocolates, and the check out counter was lined with fudge. There was an entire wall of licorice.
The sweetest little girl (pardon the pun) started talking to me at the rock candy table. She was telling me about prices and the weights and advising me only to get what I could eat. I didn’t get to say goodbye to her before we left. She looked exactly like me at 8. She talked like me. I think I met myself today.
Heavily laden with candy, we wandered around town (majorly overpriced antiques) then went to Granite Ghost Town. The dirt road was very windy and long, with a narrow shoulder and nowhere to turn around. On this tiny road, our truck (formerly dubbed "Super Behemoth") earned the ever-so-appropriate new name "Big Bertha." There were no houses in sight, yet we passed a kid selling soda and water for a dollar. I guess the desire to open a lemonade stand is so strong in kids, you’ll do it even if you live out in the middle of nowhere.
The ghost town was the ghostiest ghost town I’d ever seen. They don’t maintain the roads anymore, and the whole place is falling apart. The 3 story meeting place used to be brick and steel, and now is crumbled in. Some of the stack stone buildings have partial standing walls, and some of the wooden mining structures were still up, even if they were collapsing in on themselves.
It was also funny to run into some people from Wenatchee in a ghost town in Montana.
On the way back down, we bought a soda from the kid selling, and he said at least 20 cars go up there every day. He was probably Aspen’s age, and pretty adorable with his hand written sign.
We went home to Fairmont after that, and now Mom is working while the boys do some quadding. We’ll likely to swimming in the hot springs, and go down the water slide tomorrow, and maybe get to Seeley Lake before the week-enders. It’s good to be in Montana!
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