En route from Bozeman to Helena we spent the night between two collosal piles of hay. The bales were four feet tall and the piles themselves over two stories. There was an alley between them wide enough for our tent and all our gear. It felt like being in the ruins of some giant temple built by grasshoppers.



I usually like to ask permission before camping somewhere, but it's wasn't posted and it's hard to know who owns what when the houses are over two miles appart.



It was quite cozy, surrounded by sweet smelling hay. After dark, I climbed on top of one pile and layed there, checking out the sky. You could see the lights of ranches in the distance, and the only sound was the far of whir of trucks on the highway and the dragonflys zipping around eating insects.