It is perhaps unsurprising, that none of us slept particularly well. It wasn't the quality of the rooms, which were fine, nor the ineffectiveness of the air con, which was aging, but just about working. No, the reason we all slept badly, is that some bright spark decided the best way to design a motel by a busy road is like this:
After dragging ourselves out of our rooms, we were greeted with a breakfast that can only be described as being cooked by Satan himself. The bacon was so crispy, it actually snapped in half as I tried to pick a piece up. Abandoning this (along with overcooked smeggs - fake eggs, that are called smeggs, for reasons we won't go into here), I opted for the "healthy" option of a bagel, muffin and yoghurt.
Our day of filming was shorter and sweeter than most. We started our journey west, covering a few interesting features such as Pompey's Pillar, before landing at Livingston.
(apologies for the delay - here is the second half:)
Livingston is like the land that time forgot, except it's an airport. They were missing basic things like hot coffee, flat screen TV's, magazines, oh and electricity. Yep. We landed, they unraveled the pump to fuel the helicopter with some Jet A fuel, and it just went click. The pump didn't start. At this point they discovered the power was out in the local vicinity. I find it somewhat incredible that they only discovered there was no power when they were trying to fuel something. Obviously the poor old dear behind the counter had been sitting in the dark for the last few hours oblivious. Strange.
We waited. It felt like an eternity. Colin was miles and miles behind us, and we had to wait for him to catch up. My first lunch consisted of two bananas and a handful of nuts, this was washed down by a warm can of Monster energy drink. Loverly. :s After that I attempted dozing, but in the stifling un-airconditioned heat I soon gave up and ended up watching the rest of the Sherlock Holmes film with RDJ. Pretty decent, in a light-hearted action adventure kind of way.
Eventually Colin arrived, and we set off to lunch at the Ribbentrop, ahem, sorry, I mean the Rib 'n' Chop which seems to be a Montana chain. Richard and I decided to feast on the animal that had spent so long eluding us from our aerial perch: the buffalo. Buffalo burgers are darned tasty things! A bit gamey, and not as strong a flavour as beef, but decent nonetheless.
.JPG)
A short flight to Bozeman, where we're going to be staying for the next three days and we checked into our hotel. I asked for a room near the gym, at which point I was laughed at (quite rightly), but the rest of the team: "let me get this right", asked Colin, "you want a room that's near the gym, so you don't have to walk so far to get there?". Guffawing ensued. I ended up in the room directly opposite. With a run up, I could actually jump from my room into the gym.
So to the gym I went. Despite the late and very filling lunch, I felt like going for a run. Half an hour on the treadmill, at a steady 6.5 mph, I thought. That'll do the trick. Having spent half the day crammed in a helicopter, and the other half sweating like John Prescott in a pie shop, I was feeling pretty out of shape by the time my running shoes hit the rubber. But off I went, and my god, it felt torturous. After 15 minutes I could feel myself struggling, and by 25 minutes I could feel the buffalo burger threatening to make a reappearance. I heard a good expression recently: pain is weakness leaving the body. I decided though, that buffalo leaving the body is probably a step too far, and so a minute later I stopped.
Dinner was a very civilised affair at a local restaurant. I've decided I am a beer heathen: I like cold lager, preferably European, but budweiser, coors, or even a miller will do. These weren't on tap in the restaurant, and I had a choice of ales. I settled for something that was sort of OK, a light ale I think. For someone who likes lager quite a lot, I'm really not into any other beer. Richard and Colin found this quite amusing, after I sent the first one back having ordered an ale that was simply gross. Hey ho.
Our day of filming was shorter and sweeter than most. We started our journey west, covering a few interesting features such as Pompey's Pillar, before landing at Livingston.
(apologies for the delay - here is the second half:)
Livingston is like the land that time forgot, except it's an airport. They were missing basic things like hot coffee, flat screen TV's, magazines, oh and electricity. Yep. We landed, they unraveled the pump to fuel the helicopter with some Jet A fuel, and it just went click. The pump didn't start. At this point they discovered the power was out in the local vicinity. I find it somewhat incredible that they only discovered there was no power when they were trying to fuel something. Obviously the poor old dear behind the counter had been sitting in the dark for the last few hours oblivious. Strange.
We waited. It felt like an eternity. Colin was miles and miles behind us, and we had to wait for him to catch up. My first lunch consisted of two bananas and a handful of nuts, this was washed down by a warm can of Monster energy drink. Loverly. :s After that I attempted dozing, but in the stifling un-airconditioned heat I soon gave up and ended up watching the rest of the Sherlock Holmes film with RDJ. Pretty decent, in a light-hearted action adventure kind of way.
Eventually Colin arrived, and we set off to lunch at the Ribbentrop, ahem, sorry, I mean the Rib 'n' Chop which seems to be a Montana chain. Richard and I decided to feast on the animal that had spent so long eluding us from our aerial perch: the buffalo. Buffalo burgers are darned tasty things! A bit gamey, and not as strong a flavour as beef, but decent nonetheless.
.JPG)
It's hard to take pictures up in the helicopter, as there's always something going on. Here's a quick on I managed to grab. In America they make fields round, as there is so much space, it' makes them easier to irrigate I suppose. The corners are just abandoned land - imagine that in the UK!
A short flight to Bozeman, where we're going to be staying for the next three days and we checked into our hotel. I asked for a room near the gym, at which point I was laughed at (quite rightly), but the rest of the team: "let me get this right", asked Colin, "you want a room that's near the gym, so you don't have to walk so far to get there?". Guffawing ensued. I ended up in the room directly opposite. With a run up, I could actually jump from my room into the gym.
So to the gym I went. Despite the late and very filling lunch, I felt like going for a run. Half an hour on the treadmill, at a steady 6.5 mph, I thought. That'll do the trick. Having spent half the day crammed in a helicopter, and the other half sweating like John Prescott in a pie shop, I was feeling pretty out of shape by the time my running shoes hit the rubber. But off I went, and my god, it felt torturous. After 15 minutes I could feel myself struggling, and by 25 minutes I could feel the buffalo burger threatening to make a reappearance. I heard a good expression recently: pain is weakness leaving the body. I decided though, that buffalo leaving the body is probably a step too far, and so a minute later I stopped.
Dinner was a very civilised affair at a local restaurant. I've decided I am a beer heathen: I like cold lager, preferably European, but budweiser, coors, or even a miller will do. These weren't on tap in the restaurant, and I had a choice of ales. I settled for something that was sort of OK, a light ale I think. For someone who likes lager quite a lot, I'm really not into any other beer. Richard and Colin found this quite amusing, after I sent the first one back having ordered an ale that was simply gross. Hey ho.
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