Chapter Two - The Humiliating Initiation

When you are looking for land in Texas, you call the realtor and you drive out to the property which is clearly marked and usually flat-ish. It is easy to find and look over, helping you to make an informed, quick decision about whether you would like to buy it or not. This takes about a day or two. No big deal. Apparently though it is slightly different in Montana.

I found the 162 acre, seems-too-good-to-be-true property on a website, tried to contact the realtor, and then cooled my heels for months until the realtor came back from vacation and hunting. Then I spent weeks trying to convince said realtor that yes, we did want to see this particular piece of property - to which she said, "You can't LIVE up there!" Then after convincing her that I indeed wanted to see, and possibly buy, the property, I waited another few weeks until she could locate someone who could find this particular piece of property and be willing to take us out and show it to us. (You DO want to actually sell it, right?) This all began in the late summer, early fall months. We wanted to get a look at the land BEFORE it was covered with snow. No one buys property in Montana in the winter - well few do anyway.

The realtor who had this listing (for reasons that still escape me) never did find anyone who could take us out to see the property. It was now November and I was sick to death of waiting on these people to do their jobs. So, I found a realtor in Missoula who, weirdly enough, wanted to sell a piece of property, who agreed to find the property and take us out to see it. This took several more weeks (Sidenote: this piece of land is ten miles up a mountain with no road signs, roads going off every which way, and not clearly marked. It's all just mountainous, woodsy, up and down, raw land, not easy, well-marked, flat land like in Texas so it takes some scouting before you can find the exact spot you're looking for. Who knew this part would be so hard? Or take so long?)

 Finally, in December, Butch went with the realtor to see the 162 acres on top of the mountain. Which was now covered in snow. I didn't get to go that day and I'm kind of glad I didn't. Apparently this realtor wasn't exactly sure where the property was so it took him and Butch a bit of 'hiking'. Butch came home completely worn out but seriously excited. The place was GREAT and he could NOT believe the view! He was, shall we say, smitten.

Two weeks later, with Butch's grown son Jay in tow, we headed out to see the land. Butch was, in his words, 'jacked' to show it to us. I was excited myself. The thought of owning our own land in Montana was pretty amazing.

It was cold that day - for a Texan anyway. I think it was about 20 degrees. And it had snowed a lot that week, so much so that we couldn't drive the truck all the way to the property. We had to stop about a mile away and walk in. On snowshoes. Which was exhausting. I had never had much experience with snow before. I mean, I'm from Houston, Texas for Pete's sake. I had been skiing in Colorado a few times (total disaster) but usually just spent the whole time in the warming house, happily drinking coffee, watching the pretty snowflakes fall. And while living in Lolo, a couple thousand feet lower elevation than this property, we didn't get that much snow. It wasn't a big deal. Who would have thought that just twenty-five hundred feet higher up would make THAT much difference in the amount of snow you get?? Sheesh.

Butch, Jay and I walked (trudged heavily, sweating profusely) up the hill and around the corner and gasped. Butch was right, the view was to die for. And oh my gosh, how cool. There was an old miner's log cabin sitting right on the hill overlooking the gorgeous view. People had stayed in it over the years and had signed their names and dates on the logs on the inside, dating all the way back to 1915. We went inside to sit and rest for a minute, not that it was any warmer in there but at least it protected us from the wind. And as per the usual, being a girl, I had to pee.

Having to go potty in this kind of cold is a real nuisance. It's pretty much the only time in my life I wish I were a man. I had SO many clothes on! Layering, you know. Girls have to strip down to basics when they have to go, baring much skin to the frigid temperatures and it's really not fair. It's miserable.

Did I mention I had snowshoes on? I did? Ok. I announced that I needed to potty and as I was leaving the cabin, my husband said in his low, slow voice, "Tamp down the snow before you go pee." I wondered why he would tell me to do this but decided to ignore it as being unimportant. (You see, I had NO idea how deep this snow was. I never had to tamp down snow in Lolo. Why would I have to here? That's just silly.)

I went whistling around to the side of the cabin to a small berm where the snow had fallen off the roof. I cannot fathom what made me decide to balance on top of that berm to go pee but I did nonetheless. So here I was, pulling down coveralls, pants, long johns, etc... BRRRRR!, then balancing these long unwieldy snowshoes on top of this little frozen hill of snow, and then telling myself, "Just go already. Let's get this over with." As I'm shivering and waiting, I begin to tip forward and have nothing to grab ahold of. Dang it. Well, I think, I'll just put my hands out and catch myself when I hit the snow. I did put my hands out but instead of stopping me, my hands went right through the snow, and kept going and going until I did a face plant in the snow and my head was completely buried. I kid you not. And hey guess what? My bare butt is sticking straight up in the air. And there I stuck like some really tacky, bizarre yard ornament.

My feet were still on top of the berm so they were higher than my head, thereby throwing me completely off balance. My head and arms were buried in the snow. And I was choking. And freeezing. I pulled my arms out of the snow and pushed on top of the snow to pull my head out and all that happened was that my hands and arms went straight back into the snow and my head didn't move an inch.

Bare butt still sticking up in the air.

I am beginning to get fairly alarmed by a few things at this point. I am terrified that Butch and his son Jay are going to come outside and see what the commotion is (I can't do anything quietly). I am freezing. And I am choking and can't breathe.

Bare butt still in the air.

I begin to have an argument with myself, while buried there in the snow:
                                                                             
"Just fall over in the snow."
"NO. I can't. It's just too cold!"
"If you don't get your head out of the snow you will die here. Is this really how you want to be found dead, with your head buried in the snow and your bare butt sticking up in the air?" (as funny as that would be).
"Well, no but it's just so painful."
"Just do it."

So, I did. I fell over in the snow which pulled my head out of the snow and I was able to take a long gasping breath, and continue choking. I realized that I fell over with my rear facing the front of the cabin AND that my snowshoes were now tangled. Great. I lifted my snowshoes up off the ground (better view of my rear!) and thrashed violently to get them untangled. And oh I was cold. I stood up, turned rear AWAY from front of cabin, and began to get all the freezing snow off my skin and out of my pants, shirts, coveralls, etc...

I never did pee.

My hair was wet and hanging limply at my face. My butt, I had noticed, was an alarming shade of purple (frostbite?) and I was exhausted. Struggling into the cabin, I flopped down. My husband seemed to instinctively know what happened because he said in his low, slow drawl, "TOLE you to tamp down the snow."

That was my first visit to our property. I was now properly initiated. I guess. Little did I know that this humbling, hilarious (later) experience was going to be par for the course in my new adventure of being an off grid, mountain woman. It was just the beginning of a long series of similar, um, mishaps? Who knew I was so accident prone? I'm glad I have a sense of humor. I was gonna need it.