Last Bus to Conrad

MSU

When I was a grad student at Montana State University and unable to get classes I needed in the summer session, I took a summer job with the school's Plant & Soil Science Department. The department was researching different varieties of winter wheat to see which best tolerated the Montana winters. Small plots of different varieties of wheat were planted and harvested and the kernels from each head of harvested wheat were rolled out by hand. The number of kernels were counted and carefully recorded to get the precise yield down to the kernel. 

Gallatin Valley

Most of the wheat plots were in Bozeman's Gallatin Valley, but one was near Conrad, north of Great Falls, near the Canadian border. Due to my maturity! i.e. married, I was the student hire chosen to accompany one of the professors on the 2 day trip to harvest that crop. 

The harvesting was done 'by hand' with the aid of small mini-reaper similar to the one the one pictured - only think smaller, more antique, a non-OSHA, finger hazardous, walk-behind version which required a 2nd person to walk alongside to bundle the cut stalks of wheat. Sort of an overgrown garden tiller with exposed flashing blades and a catch basket.

We left Bozeman in the early morning and arrived in the Conrad region in the afternoon and went to work. We had gathered several dozen bundles and I thought it likely we could finish and head back the same day.  But, when nearly done, for some reason, the prof decided we would should pack up and come back in the morning to finish and then head back to Bozeman. My argument to finish up was rebuffed. 

Conrad

Turns out the prof was an alcoholic so when we got back to Conrad and a hotel, we checked in and he disappeared. The next morning early, I had breakfast and was waiting in the lobby for him to come down. And waiting … No response to a knock at his room, so I became suspicious. I went searching the few Conrad "eating" establishments looking for him and eventually wandered back to the hotel lobby where he suddenly appeared, tumbling down the stairs, landing on his head, opening a gash in his skull. I managed to get the truck keys from him, load him into the passenger seat, got directions to the hospital where he was admitted for stitches and a concussion. The nurse asked if he had been drinking. Frustrated, I replied: "Does a chicken have lips?". 

I called the MSU department head and explained the situation and that he had a drunken prof in his employ - something he already knew but had neglected to clue me into. He said he would call the hospital and talk to his family. He asked that I retrieve the wheat that we had harvested and drive the 250 miles back to Bozeman. By now it was mid-afternoon. My predicament. Where the H was that wheat plot? I think it must have been divine guidance as I somehow managed to find that plot out in the Montana prairie. I decided harvesting the remaining wheat by myself was hopeless and so I made the executive decision that there were enough bundles for valid results - so I left the small amount of unharvested wheat for the crows. Getting the reaper, a heavy, cumbersome contraption, loaded into the pickup bed was the next challenge. But I finally managed to get the machine and the wheat bundles all loaded and tarped. I then faced another predicament. Where is the road home? i.e. where the H was Interstate #15?  I decided to just to just drive south on country roads, look for blue signs and hope for the best.  No cell phones or GPS of course.

I arrived back in Bozeman in the deep dark, exhausted, wishing I still had my old undergrad Twinkie harvesting job.  

Copyright ©  2025  Dave Hoplin