Gates of the Mountains

Ted. On July 19, 1805 the Lewis & Clark expedition entered a spectacular stretch of the Missouri River about 25 miles north of present day Helena, where we currently reside. At days end, Meriwether Lewis made the following entry in his journal, “...those rocks put in close to the river on both sides, are perpendicular and about 1200 feet high, this place has so singular an appearance that I call it the gates of the rocky mountains.” 

This part of the Helena-Lewis and Clark National Forest is now called the Gates of the Mountains Wilderness area and is still only accessible by boat. For the last 125 years, tour boats have taken visitors along this famous stretch of river. On a day that we deemed too smoky to hike, Judy and I decided to take the 2-hour tour. Our boat had a capacity of around 100 people, which allowed the 35 or so passengers to have plenty of social distancing. I have to admit that riding in a boat is certainly easier than hiking through a canyon. 

Our guide, Tim, began by identifying several species of waterfowl including the first loon that we had ever seen. A hush came over the crowd as we approached those formidable cliffs. 

Much of the rock in the Helena area is ancient basalt but the cliffs in this canyon are limestone; much younger, lighter colored and full of fossils.  While we couldn't see those from our boat, we did see some pictographs on one cliff. Scientists believe that people painted the figures using red ochre about 1,500 years ago. We also saw a fair amount of wildlife along the way.

One of 3 bald eagles we spotted

Young bighorn sheep at a salt lick

Last year, while touring the Missoula Smokejumper Visitor Center, we learned about of the Mann Gulch Fire. In 1949, 15 smokejumpers parachuted into Mann Gulch to put out a fire but only 3 of them made it out alive. The tragedy was the basis for Norman Maclean’s book, Young Men and Fire as well as the 1952 film Red Skies of Montana. Well, unbeknownst to us, Mann Gulch is in Gates of the Mountains and we passed right by the spot where those brave young men lost their lives. 

With so much history and beauty in a small area this proved to be another gem of the Treasure State.

West to the Columbia

Ted. After a month in Missoula, it was time to follow in the footsteps of the Lewis & Clark expedition and wander over the Bitterroot Mountains, tumble down onto the plains and make our way to the mighty Columbia River, the path to the Pacific Ocean. We followed their route over Lolo Pass and stopped in Orofino, Idaho where the explorers constructed dugout canoes from massive Ponderosa pines. From there we left their path and drove north, via Moscow, Idaho and Pullman, Washington to Spokane, WA where we checked into an Airbnb that would be home for 10 days.

Dugout at Clearwater Historical Museum

 

Spokane served as a good base for us to explore an area of the Northwest we did not know. One day we took a road trip to nearby Idaho, first visiting beautiful Coeur D’Alene, on the lake of the same name. We then drove north to Sandpoint, following the shore of Lake Pend Oreille to the town of Clark Fork where the Clark Fork River (last seen in Missoula) ends it journey in the lake. 

Lake Pend Oreille

Floating Restaurant, Hope, ID

On another day trip we drove west to visit old Fort Spokane, built where the Spokane River empties into the Columbia River to protect the Indians living in two reservations across the rivers.  

Remains at Ft Spokane

Spokane River (L) entering Columbia

A tour of downtown Spokane focused on Riverfront Park, site of the 1974 World’s Fair (who knew?). We also found time for a hike along Iller Creek, just outside of town.

Upper Spokane Falls

Clock tower

Fun slide

 

Spokane Valley from Iller Creek trail

For the second half of our time in Spokane we were joined by our good friends Terry & Sue. Natives of Washington, we enjoyed having a rendezvous with folks who really know the area. We also had a great time relaxing, visiting and enjoying local salmon and wine.

Terry in  DC3 at flight museum

Sue & Terry & salmon & wine

As you may have read, California, Oregon and Washington have been the scene of horrific wild fires in September. For nine days we had escaped any of the damage, or lingering smoke but our last day proved to be pretty bad. Overnight the air grew thick with smoke – even waking me up in the night. So, when we packed our bags to drive back to Montana, we were sad to leave our friends but glad to get out of the smoke.

Time to go!

Sculpture in the Wild

 Judy.  If one of you is the person who suggested we visit the Blackfoot Pathways Sculpture in the Wild, we want to send you a huge THANK YOU! 

 

On a gorgeous just-starting-to-turn cool Sunday morning, we headed up the Blackfoot Valley to Lincoln, where we were told there is an outdoor sculpture park. Ted and I, as you have surmised, love museums, but right now are a little picky about being inside, so the opportunity to see a collection of sculpture in an outdoor setting sounded perfect.

 

The drive up any of the valleys surrounding Missoula is breathtakingly beautiful, and Blackfoot was no different, with vast ranches surrounded by majestic mountains, and sparkling rivers running beside the highway. Once you reach Lincoln, though, the ponderosa pines take over. The little town reminded me of Talkeetna, Alaska.

 

Just out of Lincoln, a turn to the left takes you into the park. We were surprised to see the number of cars in the lot, virtually all of them with Montana license plates. Several families were there, toddlers to grandparents, dashing down the many paths to various artworks.

 

With so many visitors, we were concerned about social distancing, but the park is vast, with multiple trails to the site-specific works. Some, like the Montana Memory, which utilized an actual Tee Pee Burner that had been part of a sawmill where leftovers were burned, were historical. Others celebrated the topography of the land surrounding it.  Sculptors from all over the world came to the park, then submitted their designs, which were often constructed with the help of locals. For more information, and to see more sculptures, you can go to www.sculptureinthewild.com.  

 

As Ted noted in his last post, a picture is worth 1,000 words, so I’ll leave you with these:

Blodgett Canyon

Ted. Just outside Missoula, the Bitterroot River empties into the Clark Fork River. Only about 80 miles long, the Bitterroot Valley has been a gathering place for indigenous tribes for centuries due to the abundance of bitterroot plants, which grow here. An important source of food back then, its humble blossom is now the state flower. Lewis & Clark travelled the length of the valley and dubbed a favorite campsite “Travelers Rest.” In 1841, a Jesuit priest arrived in the valley at the invitation of the local Salish Indians. The mission, which he named after St Mary, was the first permanent “white” settlement in Montana.

 

Nowadays, it is possible to fly south (up the valley) at 70 mph on US route 93 and in less than an hour reach Hamilton where Blodgett Creek enters the Bitterroot River.  Yesterday, Judy and I chose to walk along the creek a little ways up into the Bitterroot Mountains to explore one of the canyons carved out by glaciers millennia ago.

We felt like we were in church. We don’t know what the Salish people called Blodgett Canyon but with these majestic 2,000 foot high cliffs it had to be considered a sacred place.  As one picture is worth a thousand words, here are 10,000 words…

Missoula Part 2

 Judy.  Shortly after we arrived in Missoula, our friend John asked if we saw a great change here since last year.  Of course, it’s hard to say since Covid-19 has caused so much to be shut down. What I can say is that our experience is definitely different—not better or worse. Just different.

 

As we did with our proposed trip to Europe, we made all kinds of plans that didn’t happen. The Roots Music Festival where we had planned to volunteer was cancelled. Church is now, as it is elsewhere in the US, online, not in person. We gave up our membership to the YMCA after three months of being unable to use it, so no classes or workouts. I’m no longer comfortable wandering in and out of stores I visited last year. Although I never went swimming at Currents, the public pool, I had hoped to try it out this year, but that doesn’t seem like a good idea to me.

 

And yet.  

Sunrise from our apartment

 

Because we’re not busy doing what I thought I’d do, we’ve done so much more. We’ve hiked more than last year—usually twice a week, usually on different trails in the Rattlesnake Recreation Area, a mere fifteen-minute drive from our apartment. Despite being in the same part of the park, each trail offers different views and flora. We carry our bear spray, but have yet to spot a grizzly or a rattlesnake--or a mountain lion, for that matter. Just beautiful views, shady forests, open meadows filled with flowers, and the songs of birds and chatter of squirrels. We see few hikers, but lots of mountain bikers, so mostly we have the trail to ourselves.  

View on a Rattlesnake Trail

 

We drove to Kootenai Canyon, where we hiked last year. It was as beautiful as we remembered, but very crowded. Afterwards, we went into Stevensville, the oldest settlement in Montana, for a food truck lunch and beer at the Blacksmith Brewery next door.

We knew we couldn’t stay in Missoula after August, so decided to check out Helena, which we loved, and will go to in mid-September. Coming back we took Raymond up a jeep trail to Garnet, a restored ghost town high on a mountain. Unlike many mining towns, Garnet had families and a school. Leaving, we had more incredible mountain views.  

Garnet

 

Another day we drove up the Bitterroot Valley past Kootenai and Stevensville to the end of the valley at the Idaho border on Lost Trail Pass. Not finding a restaurant with a patio on our way back (patios would not be useful here past September!), we opted for sandwiches from the Albertson’s Deli, and a picnic at the Blodgett Creek campground. Definitely going back for a hike along the creek!  

Raymond loves gravel roads

 

Our friends Susan and John met us at the Snowbowl Ski Resort for an outdoor pizza and a chairlift ride to the top of the mountain for a remarkable view.

 

If I get to the Farmer’s Market by eight AM, there are few buyers, so I can follow the one-way paths to buy the beautiful and inexpensive flowers and vegetables from the Hmong and organic farmers without worry.

 

Another weekend we drove north to Whitefish. The town was a disappointment—very touristy—but the scenery was magnificent as we drove past Flathead Lake many times, and hiked up part of the Whitefish Trail to the lake overlook.

Whitefish Lake

We lunched at Bonsai Brewery, which had outside dining and a great burger. And Ted loved the bitter. Coming back through Kalispell, we spotted a Chick-Fil-A, the only one in Montana, and treated ourselves to peach milkshakes. Going up and coming back, we passed my favorite mountains here, the Mission Range.

 

One afternoon we were relaxing while playing cards, and kept hearing helicopters. Finally, after a half hour, I went to the balcony and saw a prairie fire burning up Mount Sentinel, very close to us. It must have spread quickly, since by the time we looked, it was about two-thirds of the way up the hill. We watched as two helicopters flew back and forth, dousing it with water till it was out.  

Mt Sentinel Fire

 

We’d been so fortunate that there had not been western fires this year, but about the same time as ours happened, we began to get smoke here from other fires around the west. We could definitely use some rain.

 

If we’re not hiking, we walk most days. Almost everyone here has a mask that they put on as we approach each other, and, if at all possible, we tend to take wide swings around each other.

 

Chocolate mousse

On my birthday we took a chance and went to a restaurant, the Pearl Café, for dinner. We were pleased to see that tables were spread out, all diners wore their masks when not eating, and the waiter wore his all evening. And dinner was absolutely delicious. 

Although we seldom see other residents of our building, we do see Margaret, whom we met last year, and who takes her walk back and forth in front of the building, waving when she sees us.

 

Drivers continue to be courteous, stopping to let us cross the street, and the cyclists—which are everywhere—are considerate of pedestrians, for the most part. All the things we loved last year, we still love here.

 

John asked if we’d be coming back next year. Honestly, if things get back to some sense of normal, we’ll be overseas. But if it’s another year of staying in the US, why not?