Fairs are often dusty, loud, and usually smell like hot grease and livestock poop but they’re also a romanticized thing — a source of childhood nostalgia and a recurring symbol in American pop culture of transformation, mystery, desire, and escape.
They’re low-brow and fleeting, but also weirdly enchanting. I mean, where else can you get a salty sausage in a baked potato, hold a baby goat, watch a rodeo and ride something called the Zipper, all within a small radius of each other?
I think the magic of fairs might be tied to their transience. They show up, blowing in with bright lights and noise and contraptions, and then vanish, leaving behind popcorn kernels and outlines of machines in the grass. They are spectacle and sincerity, side by side.
They remind me also of how our stories utilize fairs as a backdrop. Like in “Charlotte’s Web,” when Wilbur wins an award at the fair and is saved from slaughter and Charlotte the spider lays her egg sac, knowing her life is ending. Or Big Fish, where the fair is a portal. Or Ray Bradbury’s “Something Wicked This Way Comes,” which portrays the fair as a kind of Faustian trap: It fulfills people’s deepest desires but is run by dark forces that twist those wishes into curses. Pretty accurate.
That’s all to say that the Western Montana Fair officially flips on the switch for its opening day at 11 a.m. on Tuesday, Aug. 5, though if you are intrigued by the farm animal aspect of the fair, you might get down there earlier to see the goats and rabbits.
At 7:30 a.m., the fairgrounds will be crawling with 4-H and FFA kids in boots and belt buckles, corralling goats, rabbits, and poultry into their respective rings and barns. The dairy goat judging and showmanship starts at 8 a.m. and while I know that the goats are the ones being judged, I kind of think the goats might be judging us, too. Goats are like that.
The rabbit showmanship also starts at 8 a.m. and will be held in the llama barn, because rabbits don’t get their own barn — and I don’t think they care. The Butterfly House & Insectarium opens at 10 a.m. and in the afternoon you might pop over there for the insect predator feeding, which is a riveting scene. I may need to pass since I’ve been locked in my own domestic insect crisis all week (fruit flies and carpet beetles) and only feel slightly better after I panic-bought an arsenal of traps, steamers, and citrus cleaners at Ace Hardware. But the insectarium has the cool bugs, and they’re behind glass, thank goodness.
By 11 a.m., the gates are open, and the day’s chaos will spill into the Historic Plaza, Commercial Building, and Community Stage. There will be LEGO drag racing, gem panning, voter trivia, robotics demos, and a lot of other sensory overload.
Three Chiefs Cultural Center brings Indigenous drum and dance at 2, 3, and 4 p.m. and flamenco dancers and acrobats take over later. Taekwondo kids start breaking boards at 5.
The carnival opens at 11 a.m., too, which is for anyone into dizzying rides under neon signs and/or eating an array of fried food. If you’re a repeat rider (or have a kid who is insatiable), the $90 Golden Ticket for unlimited carnival rides all week is your best bet. Trust me. I bought a one-day pass last year and a thunderstorm killed the whole night, rendering my purchase a waste. (Note that you must buy it in-person at the fairgrounds before opening day — by 5 p.m. on Monday.)
At 7 p.m. on Tuesday, PRCA Xtreme Bulls takes over the rodeo arena, and at 9 River City Rhythm Band closes the day with music under the lights.
I love the fair best at night when all the rides are lit up and there’s usually a breeze. And you can watch all the youth roaming in packs, feeling that endless summer freedom.
Anyway, that’s just Day One. Here’s the full schedule. The fair is free to get in and a lot of the activities inside the gates are free, including the live music. Rides, food, games and some events will cost you. And if you are interested in reading all the guidelines and pro-tips for parking or alternative transportation to the fair, you can find that here.
