Clark Fork River Below Cabinet Gorge Dam: Light and an Ice Age Story

 Clark Fork River Below Cabinet Gorge Dam: Light and an Ice Age Story

By Bryan D. Spellman, Ph.D.

Light breaking through clouds can change the whole character of a landscape. In today’s photograph, it spills across distant mountains while the Clark Fork River winds through the darker canyon below. Evergreen forests cover the slopes, exposed rock borders the water, and the river draws the eye into the scene.

This is the Clark Fork River below Cabinet Gorge Dam, near the Montana–Idaho state line. The photograph shows a landscape whose beauty comes with an extraordinary geological history.

Cabinet Gorge is considered a likely location of the glacier’s edge that blocked the Clark Fork River during the last Ice Age. Behind that barrier, water accumulated to form Glacial Lake Missoula, flooding valleys across western Montana. The glacier advanced and retreated, so its contact with the lake was not fixed in one place.

The ice dam failed repeatedly. Each failure released enormous quantities of water downstream into Idaho and Washington. Those floods stripped soil, scoured rock, and helped shape eastern Washington’s Channeled Scablands. They continued through the Columbia River Gorge toward the Pacific, profoundly altering the landscape along their route.

Looking at this river today, it takes some imagination to picture water moving through the region on that scale. The photograph offers a quieter view: forest, stone, flowing water, and sunlight finding its way through the clouds.

I’ve recently revisited this image and refreshed its LightIntoArt listing with new print previews, room mockups, and information about the landscape’s Ice Age connection.

The photograph is available as a physical fine art print on photo paper, stretched canvas, metal, or acrylic, with three-panel canvas options for larger walls. Visit the listing to explore the available sizes and materials:

https://lightintoart.etsy.com/listing/4371335516

For more about the region’s flood history:
https://iafi.org/must-see-floods-features-in-northern-idaho/

Bridges Over Untroubled Waters

2 foot by 8 foot panorama of the Flathead River 

West of Perma, Montana

February 17th, 2015

Sail on silvergirl,  Sail on by.
Your time has come to shine.
All your dreams are on their way.
See how they shine.
If you need a friend
I'm sailing right behind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.
     --Paul Simon

To hear the Concert in Central Park version of this classic, click here. To buy it, click on the link at the bottom of the post.

Anyone who follows my rants on Facebook knows that I've finally replaced my venerable, trusty, over eight years old Nikon D80 digital single lens reflex camera.  I ordered the new camera last week from 42nd Street Camera in New York, and yesterday, UPS delivered it.  I purchased a new Nikon, a D7100, with 24 megapixels and more bells and whistles than you can shake the proverbial stick at.  I'm still learning the tricks of my D80 after all these years, so I can only hope to gain some sort of familiarity with the D7100 in time.  To that end, I'm out taking pictures every chance I get.  This blog will be unlike other posts I've written, in that I promise to keep the words to a minimum and share some of the 81 photos I've taken in the 28 hours I've had the new toy, er tool.  Please remember to click on each photo to see it full screen.

My double hibiscus blooming in the window

Plains, Montana

February 16th, 2015

I set out today hoping to find some birds.  I really want to see what the increase in megapixels can do for my avian shots.  Of course, the true test is if the camera operator can figure out how to take great shots, but the birds were few and far between, so I settled on another of my favorite subjects, bridges.  Edward T. Hall, in his study The Dance of Life, talks about working for the Bureau of Indian Affairs on a project to build a bridge on the jointly administered Hopi/Navajo lands in Arizona.  Long story short, he came to the realization that a bridge is an instrument of time.  When you consider how much time it would take you to cross a canyon, or a stream, or a river without the convenience of a bridge, you'll understand what he means.  If you're interested in his look at time, I've put a link at the bottom so you can buy the book and read it yourself.   As for me, I just like the look of classic bridges, especially railway bridges.  So I shot a few, even catching one with a train.

Christmas Cactus Blooming for Valentine's Day

Shot through a Kaleidoscope Lens

February 17th, 2015

That's it, that's all she wrote--or at least all I'm going to write today.  Here's a few more photos from the new equipment.  Hope you enjoy.

 Burlington Northern/Santa Fe Coal Train crossing the Flathead River Bridge

West of Perma, Montana

February 17th, 2015

The Flathead River Along MT Highway 200

West of Perma, Montana

February 17th, 2015

Burlington Northern/Santa Fe Rail Bridge over the Clark Fork River

South of Paradise, Montana

February 17th, 2015

Burlington Northern/Santa Fe Rail Bridge over the Clark Fork River

North of St. Regis, Montana

February 17th, 2015

Mount Baldy, Highest Mountain in our Neighborhood (7500 feet)

Wishing you all a very happy Valentine's Day, a few days late

Between Plains and Hot Springs, Montana

February 16th, 2015

A Snowy Day on the River

Snowy Day in the Coeur d'Alene Range

12/18/2014

Munson Creek Trailhead, Sanders County, Montana

Oh the weather outside is frightful...

To hear Michael Bublé sing Let it snow, click here.

Wednesday turned out to be a beautiful day, bright, sunlit, not terribly cold.  The kind of day that should get you outside and active.  Especially since the forecast was for rain and/or snow for the next several days.  I debated whether to stay home and work on chores, or go out and enjoy the weather, but ended up staying home.  I know, the chores will always be there, but still...

Thursday brought snow flurries.  Nothing major, but the skies were not at all conducive to good photography and who knew what the day would bring in terms of temperature.  So of course, I loaded my camera and GPS in the car and headed out toward Thompson Falls with the intent of getting some new smiley faces on my own personal geocaching map.  (A smiley face indicates that you have found a cache.)

My first stop was about ten miles west just off Highway 200 at the trailhead for the Munson Creek trail.  There are two caches hidden here, and I had found one last May.  The second, appropriately named Munson Creek Too (sic), eluded me.  My eTrex Legend had me going in circles and no cache was to be found.  This time, with the 650t at hand, I ended up looking about 30 feet away from where I was last May, and this time there was the cache, almost in plain sight.  I sure do love this new tool.  Now it turns out that the cache owner has changed the co-ordinates, so I can't be sure just how much better the new tool is, since the old one had incorrect information.  But the important thing is that I was able to mark this cache as found.

Back in the parking lot I took a couple of pictures, including the one at the top of this post.  It wasn't a good day for photography, but I had to try.

Down the road a piece was another cache I had been unable to find.  Located at a pull off where there are lots of signs telling about Rocky Mountain Bighorn Sheep, this cache proved elusive yet again.  Before when I tried, I was using the geocaching app on my iPhone, and my phone ran out of power before I was able to locate the cache.  This time, my 650t led me to the same general area as the iPhone, but no matter where I stood, the arrow pointed me into the center of a very large wild rose bush.  I could not see any cache standing outside the rose, and frankly, didn't care to tear myself to shreds on the thorns.  The last time someone found this cache was on my birthday, October 17th, and several people found it then.  My guess is that they were all together.  I'll try this one again sometime.

The Clark Fork River

12/18/2014

Sanders County, Montana

Equally elusive was the cache on the river side of the road named "I Found This Cache Humerus."  The cache is hidden along a semi-circular pull out that manages to be dangerous to enter and exit.  None-the-less, I pulled in and almost immediately found two piles of deer bones, one of which, I suppose, could have been a leg bone.  No cache, though.  I did get a new view of the river from the site, and, again, while conditions were not ideal, I'm pleased enough with the photo to post it here.

I drove by my next unclaimed cache, Saleesh House, as the most logical place to park, I thought, was in the middle of the construction zone where the Montana Department of Transportation is building a new bridge across the Thompson River.  I see now on the geocaching.com map, that there is probably a better place to park and access the site, so I'll try it one day soon.

A group calling themselves the Clark Fork Valley Geocachers has hidden a series of caches all along highway 200 from the Idaho line to east of Thompson Falls.  They call these the MOSBY caches, an acronym for Montana's Own Scenic BywaY.  To date there are 54 of the MOSBY caches, and yesterday I found five--the five located east of town.  The cache owners have provided very specific hints for these caches, which make them quick park and grab finds.  I did have to notify the owners that the log for number 54 was so wet that it was almost impossible to sign my name, and when I got to number 50, I parked and found the magnetic container at the base of a stop sign in full view of two Sanders County Sheriff's Department vehicles.  I just know that one of these days I will be arrested by Homeland Security officers who will have absolutely no concept of geocaching and no sense of humor.  Fortunately, this time I seem to have escaped unnoticed.

I missed the cache hidden by the grocery store on the east side of Thompson Falls, but found another down the road hidden by the same cachers.  I had never driven down this road before, and thus was able to add to my knowledge of Thompson Falls.  Back on Highway 200, I began searching for another series, this one called Summer Fun, which was placed in an effort to teach young people how to use GPS units.  What a great way to indocrinate, er mentor, young people.  I was able to find caches 1, 5, 8 and 9, but had no luck with 2, 6 or 10, caches others have not been able to find either.  I didn't try for 3, 4, or 7, at least not this time, as 4 would have me crossing the grounds of the high school and I'd rather do that on a Saturday.  Maybe tomorrow.

David Thompson Memorial

12/18/2014

Thompson Falls, Montana

Summer Fun 8 and 9 are near the monument to David Thompson, a location I thought would be perfect for a cache.  Indeed, someone else had that same thought and the cache located there is called Pioneer Geographer.  Unfortunately, I was not able to find this cache, and I heeded the owner's request not to dismantle the memorial in looking for it.  I talk a lot about Thompson so I'll just note that the plaque on the memorial reads:

DAVID THOMPSON

1770-1857

PIONEER GEOGRAPHER

"Koo-Koo-Sint"  The man who looked

at the stars

Built Salish House Near the Mouth

of Thompson River 1808

I missed the next four caches I sought, and my GPS was beginning to act up--probably due to a need to be fed some more electricity--so I called it a day, turned around and headed home.  I did get the cache hidden on the pedestrian bridge leading to the island in the middle of the Clark Fork near the Thompson Falls Dam.  I also got one more picture of swans on the river.  All in all it was a good day, with eleven caches added to my "Found" list, and more than a few that will still be waiting for me on another day.

Swans (yes they're there) on the River

Thompson Falls Dam

12/18/2014

Thompson Falls, Montana

Back in the Saddle Again

Flags flying at the Noxon Bicentennial Park

Noxon, Montana

I`m back in the saddle again
Out where a friend is a friend
Where the longhorn cattle feed
On the lowly gypsum weed
Back in the saddle again

To hear Gene Autry sing "Back in the Saddle Again," click here.

I've been feeling stymied lately.  There is still so much to do as far as getting settled into the new house that I tend to climb into my recliner and curl up with a good book.  I do have a few of them around.  I've been cataloging my library using the website www.librarything.com, and to date I have added 1,314 books to my personal catalog.  Most of these books are packed in boxes waiting for new shelves to be built, the thirteen bookcases installed in my library being filled almost to capacity.  Of those thirteen cases, I've added only four shelves of books to my librarything catalog.  There's a long way to go.  It doesn't help that everytime I open a previously unopened box, it has books in it.  I knew I had a library, but as George Takei says, "Oh Myy!"

Always carry your camera, you never know what might show up

 At the Big Sky Pantry, Milepost 12, Montana Highway 200

Meanwhile, I haven't been writing.  Oh, a blog post every now and again, and some short quips on Facebook, but nothing serious, nothing personal, nothing regular.  Well, let's hope Julia Cameron can come to my rescue.  Cameron is the author of The Artist's Way and numerous other books of fiction, non-fiction, poetry, plays, and even one movie.  Many of our Creative Pulse students found The Artist's Way helpful, and I even started a separate blog when I began working my way through Cameron's God is No Laughing Matter.  One of the books I unpacked early (and set aside for inspiration to strike) was her work The Sound of Paper:  Starting from Scratch.  Last night I picked it up and began reading.

Stop along the way and smell the daisies.

Big Sky Pantry, Milepost 12, Montana Highway 200

In my experience, reading a Julia Cameron book is an interactive experience.  Especially so the books that deal with spurring creativity.  The Sound of Paper is no exception.  The book is made up of a collection of short essays, and each essay is followed by an assignment that Cameron sets for the reader.  In addition, Cameron has three activities she strongly recommends to all those who would follow her advice.  The first is writing your Morning Pages.  The idea of the Morning Pages is that first thing in the morning, before you get into any of the details of the day, you sit with your pen and paper and write out longhand whatever floats through your mind until you have covered at least three pages with ink.

The Clark Fork River at Noxon, Montana

I have written my Morning Pages at different times in my life, and have always found the exercise helpful.  I just picked up a notebook from my desk and found written on the first page "5/22/07  So we're back to the three pages a day routine."  Every one of the 160 lined pages in that green, hard bound "Celtic Journal" is covered with words, the last entry continuing on to the green sheet of paper at the very end, and dated "Sunday, July 29, 2007, 7:00 a.m."  What should be obvious from the May 22nd post is that this journal is not the first I've filled with Morning Pages.  Looking back at The Artist's Way, I see that Cameron says "There is no wrong way to do morning pages."  I had thought we were to write them, then throw them away, but no.  We can write them on single sheets and then put them in an envelope.  We can write them on the pages of a spiral notebook if we wish.  I choose to write them in hardbound journals.  Cameron does suggest that no one else be allowed to read our Morning Pages, and indeed for those following the course of study proposed in The Artist's Way, even the writer him/herself shouldn't go back through them, at least not for the first eight weeks of the program.  Cameron specifies just what we're doing here.  "Put simply, the morning pages are three pages of longhand writing, strictly stream-of-consciousness. ... They might also, more ingloriously, be called brain drain, since that is one of their main functions."  I won't comment on draining brains, but I KNOW from experience that I am more productive when I have written my Morning Pages.  They are so important to me that I capitalize them, even though Cameron does not.

Cameron has two other tools to use in nurturing your own creativity.  The Artist Date is a weekly exercise where we romance our inner artist.  I'll talk more about this activity in the future.  Finally, a twenty-minute walk daily should do wonders to clear out the cobwebs.  Once a week, Cameron suggests making the walk much longer, adding an hour to our twenty minute walks.  Again, I'll address my walks in a subsequent post.

This MinPin owns the boat pictured above.  (Thank God my own kids aren't this fat.)

So here I am, back in the saddle, having written my first set of Morning Pages in several years.  And how did it change my day?  Well, having drained my brain, I was free to have breakfast, read my email, catch up with Facebook, and do some other correspondence on-line.  Having moved quickly through activities that usually take me all morning, I grabbed the vacuum and the mop and attacked the tile floor in the den.  I've been looking at it for weeks wishing that it were cleaner, and now it is.  Once I finished the floor, I undertook the first of the exercises Cameron sets out in The Sound of Paper.  The exercise consisted of putting together a collage of pictures taken from magazines--pictures that speak to you for whatever reason, even if you don't know why.  She suggests taking 15-20 magazines and pulling out whatever pictures resonate.  Spend half an hour doing that, then cut out the images and glue them onto poster board.  I had just finished a half hour's worth of grabbing pictures when Kevin called.  I left to meet him in town, and spent the rest of the day riding with him on the tail end of his bread delivery route, Thompson Falls, Trout Creek and Noxon, Montana.  Noxon is sixty miles west of Plains, and fifteen miles from the Idaho state line.  I always take my camera along, so with this post you can see a bit of what I saw today.  I hope you enjoy the pictures.  I know I'm enjoying the process.

Sheep on Road

Last Year's View (12/3/2011)

What the sign actually says is "Sheep on Road Next 1 Mile."  It's an electric signboard where someone can change the message, and the power comes from the sun.  For as long as I can remember, it's read just what it said this afternoon.  Usually there are no sheep on the road.  Occasionally there will be one or two.  Last winter, my cousin Ron and I slowed down to follow a pair of rams walking at a leisurely pace down the middle of the west-bound lane.  Oh, did I mention we're talking about Montana Highway 200, between Wild Horse Plains and Thompson Falls?  And the sheep in question are Rocky Mountain Big Horn Sheep (Ovis canadensis canadensis).  The sheep are manifest, blatantly taking their space in the narrow canyons between the Clark Fork River and the rock walls along the north side of the highway.  There are at least three sections of road between Plains and Thompson where you are likely to see sheep, and only on rare occasions have I traveled the twenty-five miles without seeing sheep somewhere along the road.

The View West from Lower Lynch Creek Road

This morning Kevin and I drove into Thompson (the Sanders County Seat) to pay the taxes on our new home, check on employment possibilities with the Sanders County Sheriff's Office (for Kevin, not me), and pick up some groceries so I can use up the Thanksgiving leftovers.  It was a beautiful morning, blue skies, sunshine, hoar frost on the trees, low clouds rising off the river, in short--a great day for a drive.  I always intend to have my camera ready, but I have to admit, that more times than not, the camera ends up left on my desk in the library at home, and I find myself staring at absolutely gorgeous scenes with no way to share them.  No so today.

After stopping at the Post Office to pick up any new mail, then hitting Sinclair for Kevin's morning Pepsi, we turned the big red wagon toward the West, and headed to Thompson Falls.  Now the way I direct people to our new home is by telling them to drive west through Plains (Wild Horse Plains, to give it the full and proper name), drive past the bank, past the hospital, past the dinosaurs (yes, there are three concrete dinosaurs next to the highway), then at milepost 75, turn right onto Lower Lynch Creek Road.  After three and a half miles heading north, you'll come to a junction with a poorly designed road sign.  That is the sign shows the names of both roads, but doesn't indicate which road is which.  Take the left fork onto High Country Road and climb the hill for roughly 9/10s of a mile.  At that point, there will be another fork, and this time you take the right fork onto Baldy View Road.  Baldy is the mountain that rises directly behind the town of Hot Springs,  about eightteen miles north of Plains.  If Hot Springs claims the face of Baldy, I guess we view the back side.

Baldy, as seen from Montana Highway 200

A little further west on 200 and you're in the canyon so loved by the sheep.  This canyon extends most of the way to Thompson Falls, with a few sections where the valley floor might be a mile wide.  Most of the way, the mountains come down to the river on the south, and climb right back up on the north. Often there are rock faces, and these are where the sheep live.  There are several places along the highway where I long to get out with my camera in hand, but places to pull off the highway are few and far between.  One of these days, however...

For this trip, I was content to set my camera on Shutter priority in order to beat the highway speed Kevin was driving, and I took my shots through the windshield and side windows of the truck.  I'm not complaining, although usually I am not happy with the results when I try this trick.  In the past, however, I've kept the camera on Aperture Priority, and often end up with very blurred foregrounds.

The River, the Railroad, the Highway, and the Mountains Beyond

In Thompson Falls, we stopped at the Court House and paid our property taxes.  Kevin tried to catch up with a colleague in the Sheriff's Office, unsuccessfully, and we headed to Genki for lunch.  Genki is an "Asian Fusion" restaurant, which means, as near as I can tell, that the menu is a mixture of Japanese and Chinese dishes, as are the decorations on the wall.  Kevin and I both had the daily special "A" which consisted of a cup of egg drop soup, a serving of shrimp and veggie tempura (one shrimp, one slice of yam, one slice of zucchini), a serving of sweet and sour chicken, and a ball of rice which served as the East China Sea separating Japan and China, at least gastronomically.  I'm not normally a fan of egg drop soup, but this was quite tasty, easily the best I've had.  The tempura and chicken were both very good, and I left pleased with my meal.  I have no idea how such a restaurant will survive in meat and potatoes Thompson Falls, but I wondered the same thing about the restaurant that used to reside in exactly the same location.  Years ago, my friend Vaun Stevens and I drove to Thompson for the simple reason that Montana Magazine had reviewed a restaurant there and named it one of the best in Montana.  I cannot at this point summon the name of that place, but I'll never forget the experience of walking in, sitting down, and having the owner ask what we wanted--refusing to give us a menu as he didn't want to limit our choices.  I no longer remember what either of us ordered, but I do remember the meal was superb, and I also remember a special treat that the owner set down before us.  Sliced strawberries in a brown liquid that he identified only after we praised the dish.  That was my introduction to Balsamic vinegar.  I asked him at the time how he planned on surviving in Thompson Falls, Montana, with a choice of entrees that would please the most jaded big city palate.  I didn't ask the folks at Genki that question, but I do wish them well.

The Thompson River at Montana Highway 200

On the way home, I grabbed a quick shot of the Thompson River, just barely catching the river in the frame as I aimed my camera past Kevin out the driver's side window of the pickup. I set the camera on the floor, content to ride home enjoying the day.  The sun was not in a spot conducive to good photography, and besides, I figured I had a nice selection of shots already.

What the sign actually says is "Sheep on Road Next 1 Mile."  It's an electric signboard where someone can change the message, and the power comes from the sun.  For as long as I can remember, it's read just what it said this afternoon.  Usually there are no sheep on the road.  Occasionally there will be one or two.  This afternoon, what the sign should have said was "Sheep on Road Immediately In Front of Your Truck and Before You Ever Actually Reach This Sign."  Kevin hit the brakes as the five sheep, three rams and a couple of ewes, raced across the road directly in front of us.  At one point, all I could see was the tail end of a sheep so close to the hood of the truck I have no idea why we didn't hit it.  But we didn't, and I guess that's what really counts.  It doesn't matter that it all happened so quickly that I didn't have time to pick up the camera and shoot the damn sheep!

P.S. If you're coming to visit, and I really wish you would, once you turn off High Country onto Baldy View, you'll drive a short ways till you see a road leading off to the left with a street sign reading Kay Wood Dr.  Turn onto Kay Wood and proceed to the end of the road. That's where you'll find us--the only house on the street and clear at the end.  The door is open and the light is on.  Ya'll come!

Meet Me in Montana

The group as of Saturday Morning, August 2nd, 2008
Taken at St. Regis Montana (Fuji disposable camera)
Kevin and I are front row on right behind dogs

Won't you meet me in Montana.
I wanna see the mountains in your eyes.
Woah, woah, I had all of this life I can handle.
Meet me underneath that big Montana sky.

--Dan Seals

A bit of history. In 1982, I rode (a horse, that is) in the Grand Entry of the Reno Gay Rodeo. I made a pair of leather chaps from a dyed red hide I purchased at Tandy, had a friend make me a cowboy shirt with a blue bandana print on the cuffs and yoke, and put it all together with a pair of blue 501s, a Resistol Silver Belly hat and Tony Lama boots. Did I look like a cowboy? Probably not, but I was dressed to the nines and carried the Montana flag proudly. Joan Rivers was the Grand Marshall that year, and I got to be real close to her in her pre-botox days.

By the late 1980s, a group of guys living in the Billings area started the Big Sky Gay Rodeo Association for Montana and northern Wyoming. I joined the group and got their t-shirt. In 1995, a friend and I traveled to Phoenix with the intent of buying a business. The purchase fell through, but my friend and I attended the Phoenix Gay Rodeo and had a ball. That is the sum total of my gay rodeo experience. Until the first weekend of August, 2008, that is.

In 2006, Jeff Taylor and John Tomes opened their Cowboy Up Ranch near St. Regis, Montana, for a weekend of camping, dancing, floating the river and making good friends. The weekend was called “Meet Me In Montana,” and was sponsored by the Pacific Northwest Gay Rodeo Association. Somehow I managed to get on their mailing list and read about the gathering, but as I was in California looking after my mother, I was not able to attend.

The second annual gathering happened in 2007 as I was getting ready to set out on the 6,000 Mile Sunday Drive. Again, circumstances did not allow me to attend, but I was determined to make it to the 2008 weekend.

With that goal in mind, Kevin and our friend Mike spent a Sunday afternoon in late July putting the camper back on the pickup. The camper has been sitting up by the cabin for quite some time. (I unloaded it from the pickup long before I headed to California.) The camper was dirty inside; some of the expected gear was missing, and one jack had lost all its hydraulic fluid and would not support the weight of the 11 foot long beast. While I went into Stevensville to look for hydraulic fluid, Kevin and Mike managed to get the camper off the ground, onto the pickup, and off the mountain. I’m glad I wasn’t there to watch.

There were, of course, other problems with the camper, but Kevin assured me that we could get it fully functional, and by cracky, we did—almost. OK, the air conditioner needs to be recharged, and the heater isn’t working properly, but all the water lines are now good and we can use the sinks, the toilet, and the showers. Yes, it has two showers: one inside and one outside.

Friday, August 1^st, we drove west on Interstate 90 heading toward St. Regis and the 2008 Meet Me In Montana gathering. It was a beautiful day to be heading into the country, and all went well until we passed a motor home near Superior. For you history buffs, the very first Gideon Bible was placed in a hotel room in Superior, Montana way back in 1908. One hundred years later, as we were nearing the town, our truck began a bump and grind that had me grabbing the door trying to hold it in place. A roadside inspection showed that all tires were fully inflated, and the tread all looked good, so we weren’t suffering from a flat. Kevin assumed that we had lost the balancing weights from the front passenger side tire, and appeared relatively unconcerned as we drove the final fifteen miles to St Regis at a reduced speed. As for me, well what do I know? Kevin is the one with the CDL and the big rig driving experience. If he wasn’t concerned, why should I be.

Once at the Cowboy Up Ranch, we found a relatively level spot in the area set aside for trucks and trailers. Having claimed our spot, we walked over to the only other vehicle parked in the area—a truck and horse/camper trailer rig from Moscow Idaho. Three men and two women from the Moscow/Pullman area were happily sipping cocktails while their horses were pastured in the next field. We introduced ourselves and settled in with them.

Over the next few hours, more guests arrived, setting up tents on the ranch house lawn. While we expected folk from Washington, Idaho and Montana, we learned just how wide a circle Jeff’s email reached as we gathered at the fire pit for the early evening Meet and Greet. Joe was from northern Louisiana. Kirk from Boston. Carlos from Barcelona—yes the one in Spain. All told there were folk from eleven states, Canada, Spain and Switzerland. Were they all cowboys? Hardly. But it was a great group of men and women.

It became obvious that many of the people present were old friends. I was able to reconnect with some friends of my own—men I hadn’t seen in years. Abe and Dave drove down from Bigfork with their four dogs. Roger came from Missoula. Tim and Bill drove over from Heron. I hadn’t seen any of these men since before I went to California. I was pleased to be able to introduce them to Kevin, and he now has several more friends than before.

In talking with Kirk from Boston, I learned that he was interested in geocaching but had never actually been out hunting for hidden treasure. I had done my homework and I knew that there was one (just one) cache in the St Regis area. There was no way I was going to move the pickup, but since Kirk had a rental car, I asked if he’d be interested in finding the cache. According to my Garmin GPS unit, the cache was just about two miles from the ranch.

On the west side of the town of St Regis, there is a nature trail that winds through a swampy area. As Kirk and I hiked, we came to a dead tree on the ground just off the trail. Kirk informed me that he was not about to put his hands in that mess, and I assured him that the cache was almost certain to be exactly where he was loathe to venture. Sure enough, I was right. We found the cache easily, and I reminded myself once again that I should always carry heavy gloves with me for just such a find. Hey, I’m not all that keen on putting my bare hands and arms into dark, dank places where a cache is likely to be guarded by all manner of creepy crawlies.

The Barn where we danced
Taken at St. Regis, Montana
August 2nd, 2008

Back at the ranch, we dined on excellent chicken enchiladas, then gathered in the barn for an evening of dancing, story telling, and catching up with friends. We began by learning a round dance mixer—the Barn Dance. Some two-stepping, some line dancing, and a waltz or two followed, but most folk stayed on the sidelines chatting with old friends and making new ones. It was sort of like the old junior high school dances where no one actually danced.

I have no idea how late things went on. Kevin and I headed for the camper and our bed long before midnight. Saturday was going to be a full day and we needed our beauty rest.

Saturday morning dawned gray and dreary. We had heard some raindrops on the camper roof during the night, and while the ground was relatively dry, the sky did not bode well for a day spent on the river. Nonetheless, after breakfast some thirty men and women boarded an old school bus for the ride to our put-in point on the Clark Fork.

There are three major rivers that carry water out of Montana. The most famous are the Missouri and the Yellowstone, both of which flow east from Montana into North Dakota and then continue on to the Mississippi and the Gulf of Mexico. The Clark Fork of the Columbia flows west into Idaho. It has the largest volume of the three and there are places between Missoula and the Idaho state line where the river is a raging torrent.

I had signed up for the river float, but I was not sure which stretch we would follow. Accordingly, I left the Nikon in the camper and brought along a disposable water-proof Fuji. There was no way I was going to risk losing my gear to the river rapids. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried. The river we rode that Saturday was remarkably flat.

Pushing the bus off the road
Taken at St. Regis, Montana
August 2nd, 2008 (Fuji Disposable Camera)

Getting to the river turned out to be the biggest adventure of the day. Shortly after our bus left I-90 at the Sloway exit, it began losing power. Less than a mile down the road, our driver/guide pulled the bus over and stopped. A few people got off the bus for a cigarette break, and the owner of the home in front of which we were parked, came out to see if we needed help. Well, actually, we did. We were still two miles from the rafts, and the bus wasn’t going to move another inch. Our knight in shining pickup truck (two points if you recognize that line) loaded us in his truck’s bed and ferried us to the rafts.

Once at the water’s edge, we divided ourselves among three rafts, three inflatable kayaks and a large inner tube. Several of the rafters had water cannons and I have to admit, had the day been bright and sunny, the prospect of getting soaked would have been fun. Instead, I was more worried about hypothermia than heat stroke. August 2^nd, and we’re wondering if Summer is over.

To add to our fun, the wind came up, and was blowing from the West. There were places on the river where we had to paddle continuously just to keep the rafts from blowing upstream. We began to wonder if we’d be home in time for supper.

The various misadventures and the uncooperative weather didn’t dampen our spirits however, and as we floated we saw osprey, hawks, a golden eagle, a group of bald eagles, geese, mergansers, and several smaller birds. Had I had the Nikon and a long lens, you’d be seeing these birds as well. Alas the Fuji wasn’t up to the task.

Eventually the St Regis bridges came in sight and we knew we’d be back at the ranch soon. As the bus was still out of commission, Jeff and some of the guests who hadn’t floated the river met us on the bank and drove us home—again in the back of pickup trucks. It was just like being a kid again, getting to ride in the pickup bed.

Camping on the lawn of the Cowboy Up Ranch
Taken at St Regis, Montana
August 2nd, 2008

Saturday’s dinner was steak, after which we adjourned to the barn where we danced the Barn Dance once again. We two-stepped to Marie Osmond singing “Meet Me in Montana,” and the band played on into the night. (Click on the link to see and hear Marie singing.) I watched handsome men moving in sync to “Dizzy,” but try as I might, I couldn’t get the choreography down to dance with them. “Dizzy” is a line-dance that everyone assumes you know, so no one ever teaches it. Once home, I went on-line and found the directions. Next time I’ll be able to dance with those handsome men.

Once again, Kevin and I turned in early. I heard no raindrops over night, and Sunday we awoke to a beautiful, clear blue sky. Jeff served up a scrumptious Sunday brunch, and we said our goodbyes. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I was a happy camper. Kevin and I had a great time and we look forward to next year’s gathering. And yes, we’re going to join the Pacific Northwest Gay Rodeo Association. Ya never know when you’ll need a cowboy around.

By the way, I took along my kite bag, and was able to get five of my stunt kites into the air at one time or another. Here’s a picture of truck, camper and kites as set up on the Cowboy Up Ranch grounds. Oh, and the bumpy ride, it turned out, was caused by the belts in a fairly new Michelin radial which were in the process of separating. We got home and bought a new tire. Problem solved.

Our Home Away from Home
Taken at St. Regis, Montana
August 3rd, 2008

To see all my pictures from the weekend, go to my Picasa on line gallery here.