Nomadic Nurse Diaries

Dear Bozeman, Please Don’t Hate Me,

With a delicious cup of Chevron coffee in hand, Stella and Watson, and I took off for Bozeman, Montana, ready to soak in some new scenery. And I have to say, I really liked Bozeman! But okay, Bozeman residents, please don’t hate me for what I’m about to say… It kind of gives me well-developed Evanston, Wyoming vibes—just with more mountains and much more expensive housing.

Now, before anyone gets all defensive, I swear this isn’t an insult. I actually like Evanston, Wyoming (unlike popular opinion), so Bozeman, take it as a weirdly backhanded compliment. But, real talk: this was my first time in Bozeman, and before seeing it, it was on my list of places I’d consider moving to. After this trip, though? I know it’s not for me. I need more trees! The mountains are gorgeous, but I crave that deep forest vibe, you know?

While in Bozeman, I fueled up at Costco—because duh, who doesn’t love cheap gas? And, of course, I grabbed a slice of pizza and some ice cream. This has become my new road trip tradition: full tank of gas, a slice of Costco pizza, and a chocolate-vanilla twist ice cream to top it off. It’s the little things in life, right?

After filling up both Poppy and my stomach, we hit the road to Kalispell. Now, Kalispell, oh my God, one thousand percent, I’d live there. It’s shot right up to my top 5 list of places I’d consider buying a house. Which- knowing me, and knowing that I HATE the thought of settling down right now– is quite the statement. I liked it much more than Whitefish, Montana, a place that has been ruined by rich Californians. Wow, I’m really out for blood today aren’t I?

But really though… Kalispell didn’t feel spoiled by rich people. It still had that authentic, cozy energy that I adore. The homes felt attainable, not like those cookie-cutter mansions in over-manicured golf communities for the weekend warriors. A place where I won’t see “keep carts off sidewalk” signs, or “Lots for sale +$300,000” signs on yet another ranch sold to developers. Nope, Kalispell is my kind of town.

New dream: get a cabin around Flathead Lake. Seriously, I’m picturing it now—cozy log cabin, maybe a dock for a little boat, surrounded by pines. Perfection. Maybe I can build a tiny house or one of those kit cabins! Swoon!

I found a sleeping spot on iOverlander that overlooked Flathead Lake and planned to head to Whitefish in the morning. The spot was perfect, with my first vanlife neighbor, a semi-transport truck, and some friendly cows as my alarm clock. Being a country kid and an Aggie from Utah State, I genuinely loved waking up to the sound of mooing. It felt familiar and welcoming, bringing me right back to my roots. And considering the day I had before that night- I needed it.

But, of course, this wouldn’t be my life if the journey to this spot wasn’t a little… eventful. So here’s the tea: I noticed this guy was following me and tailgating me like the asshole he is. And no, I wasn’t going slow. Maybe he just didn’t like vanlifers? I don’t know. Maybe I was being hypervigilant, but being in the army and having gone through some shit, my brain is always in overdrive when it comes to sensing people’s vibes and my surroundings.

Let me tell you, I need one conversation with someone, and I know everything I need to know about them. So yeah, this guy was setting off all kinds of alarms in my head. I took random turns, made a loop at one point, and he was still on my tail. I started wondering if maybe this iOverlander spot was on private land, but nope, it wasn’t—there was a trucker and another vanlifer already there. Given that truckers do this for a living, I figured I was totally okay staying there. But back to the story-this dude just wouldn’t let up.

Eventually, I pumped my brakes, which probably pissed him off-mission accomplised. Then, I popped a U-turn and mean-mugged him hard. He looked back, probably realized I wasn’t playing around, and finally drove off. I texted my brother about it, and he freaked out. Now, let me tell you about me and my brother. We’ve always been super close, almost like we’re on the same wavelength. He told me he’d just been talking to his wife, saying he felt like he was about to have a panic attack. Now, my brother isn’t the type to stress about me—he’s my number one supporter— nor does he struggle with anxiety to that degree. We both realized his panic was more about me and my safety. It was like he could sense something was up.

Luckily, nothing happened. I stayed at that iOverlander spot, and the guy never showed up again. Maybe my mean mug was enough? Who knows. But I definitely won’t forget that weird encounter.

Okay, so timeline check: I spent a day in Bozeman, drove up to Kalispell, spent a few hours there, and then crashed at that iOverlander spot I just described. The next morning, we headed to Whitefish, then back down to Kalispell. Refueled at Costco again—yes, with pizza and ice cream—and took off for Coeur d’Alene.

Let me tell you, the drive from Kalispell to Coeur d’Alene is absolutely stunning. I’d happily drive that route forever. Imagine a one-lane highway winding through pine trees, mountain cliffs, rivers, and farms. It was like driving through a postcard. At one point, I even had to stop for a mountain goat, which was a first for me.

I had zero to unreliable cell service for a good three hours on this route. Thank you, past me, for downloading an Audible audiobook in advance. No one wants a smut audiobook interrupted by buffering, courtesy of the mountains blocking cell signal. Am I right?

Coeur d’Alene is super cool, by the way. It reminds me of a beach town I used to go to growing up in Canada. I didn’t spend much time there, though—I left by lunchtime, grabbed my Costco pizza and gas, and headed out to Washington.

But here’s the thing, this road trip wasn’t without its share of drama. Stay tuned for part 3, where I’ll tell you about another encounter with a shitty individual—literally. I shit you not.

The Nomadic Nurse