Morbid Maunderings

In my July 1 posting about Day 44 I said I would write more, later, about the 20 miles of busy road that I encountered when I left Three Forks, MT.




The traffic conditions were the worst that I have encountered on this trip. There was heavy traffic, with lots of large recreational vehicles and pick-up trucks, many of which were towing trailers with boats, motorcycles, or all-terrain vehcles. This was Sunday traffic returning from a weekend of fishing, etc., and I, confined to a narrow shoulder, couldn't help but wonder how many of the drivers whizzing past me had been out earlier in the day, combining drinking with their fishing, or how many may have still been hung-over from heavy partying the night before.




On May 19, the third day of this bicycle trip, I had passed a roadside "cross" marking the site of a traffic fatality. I had driven past these many times, of course, in cars, but this was the first one that I had seen on the bike trip and the first time that I stopped to look at one of them and read the inscription on the cross. I took a picture of it, and resolved to take a picture of every such cross that I saw on this bike trip.




Through Oregon, Washington, and Idaho I passed these crosses from time to time. In case some readers are not familiar with them, I should explain that they are crosses (I have never seen any other religious symbol, such as a Star of David, Star and Crescent, or Jain Hand, used in this way) that are erected by family members of people killed in accidents. They are constructed in various ways, usually of wood but sometimes of metal, and typically show the name of the victim(s) as well as the date of birth and the date of death. Some days I didn't see any; other days I would see four or five or even more. Each time I spotted one I stopped and added it to my "photo collection."



When I got to Montana the situation changed -- the crosses became more numerous, and they were all uniform: an impersonal metal cross, painted white with no inscriptions, mounted on a metal fence post. I recently found out that the crosses are placed by the American Legion, which started this program in 1953. Throughout the state, each American Legion "post" is responsible for the crosses in its territory; some posts do not participate in the program, but most do. This program is endorsed by the state, and the crosses are intended not to memorialize the deceased, but to warn the living to drive carefully.



I don't know whether the frequency of crosses in Montana is due to the fact that virtually all fatalities are marked (whereas in other states it is discretionary on the part of the family), due to the fact that they have been placed since 1953 and are relatively permanent, or due to the fact that there is a higher-than-average fatality rate among Montana drivers. I suspect all three factors come into play. My understanding is that until recent years there was no speed limit in Montana, so drivers were used to driving fast and still do. Also, because there is a lot of relatively long distance driving -- for example, it might be 50 miles to drive from your ranch to the nearest town -- I suspect there is a high incidence of driving and drinking beer at the same time. Finally, many of the roads are narrow with hardly any shoulder -- one slip on a snowy day, and you are likely to have killed yourself.



On the day I rode from Three Forks to Helena I had to stop about 25 times to photograph the crosses. Many of the crosses were multiple ones, with two (or more) crosses on one post to indicate two (or more) people had been killed in one accident. Most of these death sites were on the 20 mile stretch from Three Forks to Townsend, and there was one brief stretch, starting at the south end of a bridge over the Missouri River and continuing for about two miles, during which I had to stop for about ten photographs.



I don't know whether or not Montana's program of placing crosses at the scenes of fatal accidents is effective in terms of encouraging people to drive carefully. I do know, however, that they had a very sobering effect on me, riding my bicycle on the narrow shoulder of this busy road.

Note: Most of my riding in Montana has been on rural roads with very little traffic. It is true that these roads generally have narrow shoulders, but they have so little traffic that I feel very safe. It is not unusual to encounter only one or two cars in half an hour, for example. And the drivers are usually very friendly: when approaching from the opposite direction, they invariably raise a hand to say "hello" to me.