Breaking Clean: Missoula
We followed the sun west for hours, climbing mountain passes, crossing river after river, until we spanned the final bridge into Missoula. Even the air smelled different—the rotten egg stench of pulp mills…or, as often, the clean, rich redolence of the Clark Fork river. Missoula lives under a canopy of trees, and I found myself half ducking the first few weeks, conscious of feeling something always hovering overhead, turning to look up and up through the limbs of giant firs, sprawling maples and oaks. (295)
Blunt, Judy. Breaking Clean. New York: Knopf, 2002.