A Dustup in Big Sky Country

One second I'm painting and the next, I'm flying through the air not exactly sure where I would fall. And the thing is, it wasn't the first time either.

Not the dust devil I experienced
(Photo credit: NASA)

Maybe it's because I grew up in the heart of tornado alley in Kansas. I've always had this thing for dust devils. You now, those miniature cyclone-like windstorms that dance their way across open fields with a funnel of dirt and debris shooting up high into the sky? I've seen them off and on over the years including near my Grandpa Vern's place in southern Utah, but I have never been that close and always wondered what it would be like to be in the middle of one. Little did I know that it would happen - TWICE - in the same spot over a one-week period. And that it would be in the Northern Rockies.

It was the summer of 2025 and I was caulking and painting a house for a friend of mine in the Mission Valley of western Montana. I was at the front of the dwelling under a covered, wrap-around porch doing some intricate trim work around a door. I actually had my back to the action when I felt the wind kick up a little. It got stronger and stronger until it blew over some patio furniture we had to move from where I was painting. I turned around and the wind was whipping up dust and much more. A friend of mine was standing by his car just out front of the house but his head was inside like he was looking for something. I walked over and pointed to the left. He popped his head and we saw it. "Wow," he said. A dandy of a dust devil was full of swirling tumbleweeds that had to stretch 60 to 80 feet up into the sky. At its base were dozens of more tumbleweeds, cardboard boxes and other debris from the construction site where I was painting. We both watched as it passed behind the home being built right next to us, across a large field, jumped a dirt road and kept on going and going. 

Fast forward to one week later. There I was again with a paint brush in my right hand and a small container of paint in the other. This time I was 12 to 14 feet off the ground on an extension ladder. Unlike a week earlier, it was already a little breezy. And thank goodness for that. Otherwise, it would have been pretty toasty. So, one second I'm painting trim on the side of a sloped patio roof and the next, I'm flying through the air not exactly sure where I would fall. What I thought was a huge, out-of-nowhere wind gust came right in my face. In a split second, I raised my eyes from the trim work to look to the house being built next door. I thought my friend, Doug, was atop a raised platform working on his roof but luckily he was not. At that moment, the wind captured a three-person, covered patio swing that was immediately below me, tossed it into the ladder which stood it upright and then I started to go over backwards. 

Luckily, I've been known to have some kind of cat-like reflexes. As the ladder started to fall, I leaped off it backwards and landed on my feet in the tall grass and weeds beyond the sodded yard. And I did so with my paint brush still in my right hand and the paint still in my left. Turns out it was yet another dust devil! This time, I was right in the heart of it. Dirt, construction site debris and tumbleweeds were swirling. It was hard to see anything. I ran up behind the house and put my hands on each side of my face to protect it. I snuck a peek here and there but really wanted to protect my eyes and face. The winds were surprisingly forceful and strong. Some 15 to 20 seconds later, the brunt of it passed. I turned and watch it cross the backyard, jump over a berm and continue off to the east. 

I walked back to the edge of the porch and it was a mess. The top of the ladder was about 20 feet from where I had been painting. The covered swing was upside down right next to it. A large potted plant was on its side. I took a quick photo. 

The incident was eerily similar to something that happened more than a decade earlier. I was in Lolo helping decorate for a New Year's Eve dance for the youth from our church in the Bitterroot Valley. My friend Kevin and I were high atop a ladder where we had attached a tarp to the top of the gym ceiling. We had a string hooked to it that we would pull at midnight for a balloon drop. All we needed to do was to fill it with balloons. Kevin was at the top. He had to be about 16 to 18 feet above the wooden floor below and I was immediately below him. We had an assembly line of teens handing us balloons which Kevin ultimately placed in the tarp. We nearly had it full when something was a little off. I could feel the ladder slowly starting to lean and fall to the right. I didn't wait to take action. Instinctively (I guess that's what it was), I leaped toward the stage over the two teenagers that were below me. One of them later said it looked like a ninja. I landed on my feet but the momentum of the long jump continued onto my right knee and then I did a somersault and popped back up on my feet. Unfortunately for Kevin, it was much, much worse. He fell with the ladder and slammed onto the floor on his right shoulder. Almost immediately, he turned white and was in shock. His wife was there and we got him into the car and off to the ER they went. 

The dance went on. Amazingly, Kevin walked back into the gym some three hours later, a sling holding his right arm, at about 11:30 p.m. He separated his right shoulder but was in really good spirits. With a wry smile on his face, he said he wanted to join the celebration. Though there was no balloon drop at midnight, the kids had a great time. I'm just glad Kevin (and I) lived to tell about it.