It's all downhill from...

...the previous entry, visually and (in some cases) literally.

But sometimes, life shows you the pretty stuff and then you have to go one to, well, less-pretty stuff.

I did dig this crumbling barn, located close to a place called Polebridge. No secret as to how it got its name: Montana has wood a-plenty, and in older days, the bridge crossing a creek nearby was made of poles...



But as we drove through what seemed interminable forest, in some stretches very surreal with a combination of fresh growth and trees burned during a major fire in 1990, we could count on passing lakes. There seemed to be almost as many lakes as trees...



And there were tricky bits of road. This doesn't show how steep the descent from my view to the bottom was. Of course trying to drive with one hand and hold the camera with the other is not the sign of being the sharpest saw in the toolbox....



In time, it was back to good ol' Whitefish Lake, where the end of the main street was, as it so often is, blocked by a train passing through. I could hear them at all hours, a soothing (to me, anyway) sound...



One more entry and it's all over....