We Wish You a Merry Christmas!

Rattlesnake Creek in January
Taken 1/3/09 in Missoula, Montana

Looking back at the year 2009, I can only say that it's been a strange and sometimes wild ride. I started my new job on December 1st, 2008, so there was no time for any holiday outings either last Christmas or New Years.

The beginning of January I was able to get Kevin out on cross-country skis. We headed up Spring Gulch at the trailhead to the Rattlesnake Wilderness Area, just a few miles from home. Kevin never quite got the technique required to manage skinny skis with no metal edges. He prefers downhill skiing. I did get a good shot of Rattlesnake Creek with its banks covered with snow. One of the few photos I'm proud of from 2009. I'm sorry to say that was the only ski trip I took all winter.

Mid January found me taking my first (and so far only) business trip out-of-state. My boss, a co-worker and I flew from Missoula to San José California, then rented a car to drive on to Monterey where we had meetings with the staff at the Defense Language Institute. That trip got off to a rocky start when our plane was unable to land in Seattle, but flew on to Portland instead, which really messed up our connections. Still, we made it to Monterey and had a good time there. I'd driven through Monterey before--years and years before--but had never spent a night there, so we were able to do a bit of sightseeing and wonderful eating while in the area. Our hotel was just at the end of Cannery Row, so I had to reread Steinbeck before the trip. It was worth it.

Toward the very end of January, Kevin stopped by my office with bad news. My former partner, Gary Pitts, had moved to Denver in May, 2008, looking for a more urban experience and higher pay. Apparently Denver was not the promised land, and in late January, Gary committed suicide. He had taken our twelve-year-old diabetic dog Rocky with him, and while there was nothing more I could do for Gary, I could do something for Rocky who was now in the hands of Denver Animal Control. Having secured their agreement to release the fellow to my care, Kevin and I headed out, driving to Denver and back in one long weekend. Along the way we stayed overnight with a good friend in Big Timber, Montana, and once in Denver we stayed with Gary's best friend from New Orleans days, Miss Lurline, AKA Terry Hurley and his partner Al. When we picked Rocky up, I wasn't sure he'd make the trip home alive. He was in pretty rough shape. Who knows how long he'd been alone in Gary's apartment before Animal Control rescued him, and while Rocky wears a tag noting that he is diabetic, Gary hadn't left any instructions as to how much insulin he needed. I'm happy to say that eleven months later, Rocky is doing fine, has a thick black shiny coat and a great disposition.

Spring came and went with no high spots, and thankfully no more low spots, and eventually Summer arrived. The one major change in our lives was the addition of yet another rescue. A friend had found a male MinPin running loose in an industrial area, tried unsuccessfully to find an owner, and asked if we would take care of him while she advertised a "found dog." We readily agreed, and Major, as we named him, became part of our family, albeit one we had to watch constantly as his preferred activity was to run away.

We made a few trips up to the cabin, but never spent the night there, and didn't take the camper out for any overnights either. In August we did have a visit from my old Berkeley friend Sandy Stedinger and her husband Jon. They had been camping in Glacier National Park, and Sandy was able to spend an additional week with Kevin and me while Jon flew home to San Diego. Sandy and I put the canoe in the Bitterroot and floated from Lolo to Maclay Flats one afternoon. That was the only time I had the canoe in the water all year.

Canoeing the Bitterroot River
August, 2009

In September, I got to drive a University van and took a delegation of five academics from VietNam to Glacier National Park. We had good weather for the whole day, a seventeen hour drive that took us to Holland Lake, Hungry Horse Reservoir, lunch at the Isaac Walton Inn in Essex, East Glacier, then up and over the Going-to-the-Sun highway across the center of Glacier Park. Four of the five VietNamese were from Can Tho University in the Mekong Delta. They were studying the effects of climate change--a field of study that is vital as the Mekong is disappearing as the waters rise.

Two Medicine Lake, Glacier National Park
Taken August 30, 2009

By early October, I was climbing the walls and Kevin insisted that I had to take some time off work for some R&R. With that encouragement, I agreed, and we put all four dogs in the truck and took off for Mount Rushmore. Kevin had never been to that presidential site, and I'm always up for a road trip, so why not. I've written up the first five days of that trip in my blog, and will eventually post the final day, but long story short, early October 2009 was the wrong time to take a vacation--at least in the frozen northland. I've taken to calling the trip "The 2000 Mile Sunday Drive," but a Sunday Drive should never include rain, snow, blizzards and wind, wind and more wind. Especially when you're driving a 3/4 ton, four-wheel drive pickup loaded with a 3,000 pound camper. We got about 7 miles to the gallon on the trip and saw more snow covered roads than I care to see in a one-week period. The storms covered Wyoming, and my first (and so far only) view of Devil's Tower was of a huge pillar reaching up into the low-hanging clouds. Fortunately, by the time we reached Rapid City, the snow had stopped falling and Mount Rushmore was glorious with bright blue sky and white ground.

Part of my rationale for the trip was that it would allow me to continue collecting photographs of the 56 county court houses in Montana, and I insisted that our route would have to include the few Montana counties I had never visited. By the time we got home, just in time for record cold temperatures (near zero in mid October), I could say that I have now been in all of Montana's counties, and I have photographs of the Court Houses from about 2/3s of them. Major got away from us three times during the trip--he almost got to find himself a new home in Cody, Wyoming--but all six of us returned safely to Missoula. (Thank you, Kevin, for all that driving.)

Black Roses on my Birthday Cake
Taken 10/17/09 in Missoula, Montana

Just after returning from the trip, I turned 60. Hard to believe I'm that old--but I'm not sure what 60 is supposed to feel like. I think I'm much younger than my father was at 60, but I never talked about age with him, so who knows. And speaking of birthdays, today, Christmas Eve, Kevin turns 55. Just a kid--a kid who got stuck with having a birthday the day before Christmas.

The Missoula Gay Men's Chorus presented our fifth annual Christmas Cabaret in early December, and I sang bass as usual. This year I did not sing any solo, but enjoyed the camaraderie of my fellow choristers and the response of the full house. This was our most traditional concert in ten years of singing together, and also, I feel, our best performance. I wish you all could have been there.

This Christmas finds us spending a quiet time at home, just the six of us. We wish you and yours a most joyful Christmas, fully keeping in mind the reason for the season. We ask you to join us in prayers for Peace on Earth, and for the safety of our soldiers and the people of Iraq and Afghanistan. Finally, may 2010 bring you happiness, health and a truly wonder-filled year.

Love, laughter, hugs and kisses.

From our home to yours
Rocky, Bryan, Gypsy, Minnie, Kevin, Major
Taken 12/24/09 in Missoula, Montana

Shameless Self Promotion

Umpqua River Light House
Taken from Pacific Coast Lighthouses Calendar

Hark the Herald Tribune sings
Advertising wondrous things!
God rest ye merry merchants
May you make the Yuletide pay!
Angels we have heard on high
Tell us to go out and buy!
--Tom Lehrer

To hear Tom Lehrer sing "A Christmas Carol," click here.

Note please that clicking on any image will open a full-screen view of that image in a new window, and clicking on any link will open a new window.

I warned those of my readers on my e-mail list that the next installment of this blog would be a piece of shameless self promotion. So you have no one to blame but yourself.

As many of you know, I am a member of the Red Bubble art group on-line. Red Bubble is a site where artists upload their work and make it available in various formats for sale. You can upload scanned drawings, paintings, photographs, digital art, writing, and can produce t-shirts and calendars for sale to the masses. I have been involved in the photo/digital art end for about six months now. There is a link on the right side of my blog that shows my most recent work from Red Bubble.

Coquille River Light House
Taken from the Coastal Views Calendar

While I have not produced any Christmas cards (but there are several of my pieces that would make lovely cards), I have put together five (at this point) calendars which could make wonderful Christmas gifts--see that's the shameless part. I have personally ordered three of these calendars and can attest to the professional quality of the finished product. I'm not talking about the imagery, I'm prejudiced there, but I have had calendars made up in the past and was not happy with the way my images were reproduced. That is not the case with Red Bubble. This is top-notch work that anyone would be proud to have hanging on their wall.

Rattlesnake Creek in January
Taken from the Heart of Montana Calendar

The five calendars are:

Heart of Montana--12 views from around the Treasure State

Coastal Views--12 images from the southern Oregon and northern California coast

Pacific Coast Lighthouses--most of the lighthouses on the Pacific Coast from Yaquina Head at Newport Oregon to Point Arena in Mendocino County, California.

Flowers, Wild and Tame--which should be self-explanatory

and Welcome to Port Orford--13 scenes taken in or near the town of Port Orford, Oregon

Boats docked at Port Orford, Oregon
Taken from the Welcome to Port Orford Calendar

You can check out any and all of these calendars at my Red Bubble site, www.redbubble.com/people/mtbearded1 and who knows, maybe you'll find a card or even a framed photograph that you just can't live without.

The work is produced when ordered, so there is a time lag--but Red Bubble assures us that anything ordered by December 13th will be delivered in time for Christmas.

There, that wasn't so bad, was it?

Hugs, and watch this site for my annual Christmas Letter--coming up next.

Appleblossom Time
From the Flowers, Wild and Tame Calendar

The Two Thousand Mile Sunday Drive--Day Five

The Scobey United Methodist Church
Scobey, Montana

Away out here they have a name for rain and wind and fire.
The rain is Tess, the fire's Joe and they call the wind Mariah.

Mariah blows the stars around and sets the clouds a-flyin'.
Mariah makes the mountains sound like folks was out there dyin'.

--Lyrics by Alan Jaye Lerner, Music by Frederick Loewe

To see and hear Harve Presnell sing They Call The Wind Mariah, click here.

This is the day I filled in my county map for Montana--that is, there are fifty-six counties in Montana, and by the time we parked the truck for the night, I could say that I've now visited all fifty-six. Admittedly, the last time I was in Prairie County I was seven or eight years old, but I've been in all the rest as an adult.

After a mediocre breakfast in the Beach North Dakota truck stop where we'd parked for the night, we headed west on I-94 into Montana and Wibaux County. For those of you who don't speak French, Wibaux is pronounced Wee-bow. When I was a child, and I don't remember the exact year but sometime between being six and ten, my father served as interim pastor of the Wibaux Methodist Church. I don't remember how many times we made the 500 mile round trip, but we'd leave Billings, drive 250 miles or so to Wibaux, dad would preach, then we'd drive back to Billings. And in those days, we didn't have I-94 connecting the two communities. It was US 10 back in those days, and you drove through every tiny town along the way. This trip, when we stopped in Wibaux for me to shoot the Court House, I had to find the church as well. Fortunately, it was just on the corner, less than a block away from the modern (1950s) building serving as the county's administrative center. The church is a much older building, and looks exactly like I'd expect a rural Methodist church to look. Wibaux County, by the way, is number 52 on Montana license plates.

Wibaux United Methodist Church
Taken 10/7/09 in Wibaux, Montana

Leaving Wibaux, we drove west on I-94 to Glendive, seat of Dawson County (number 16 on Montana license plates). Glendive is also the home of Dawson Community College, one of three non-tribal community colleges in the state. We quickly found the Court House, which I shot, then were back on the road. I tried to get Kevin to continue west to Terry, seat of Prairie County, then north to Circle (McCone County--numbers 45 and 41, respectively), but he insisted that would take us way too far out of the way to get anywhere closer to home by nightfall. Instead he headed the beast north on Montana Highway 16, parallelling the Yellowstone River, until we crossed into Richland County (number 27).

Kevin is a fourth generation Montanan, and while his mother's family is from the Bitterroot Valley south of Missoula, his father was born in Savage--a small town on the Yellowstone, near the North Dakota state line and the first town you come to in Richland County. I believe Kevin still has family in Savage, but we didn't stop to look for relatives. Instead, we continued north on 16 to Sidney, Richland's County Seat.

Looking East toward the Yellowstone River and North Dakota
Who says Eastern Montana is flat?
Taken from Montana Highway 16 in Richland County

Sidney is a prosperous looking town, quite in keeping with the county's name, and indeed the 80s and 90s were good to the area. Petroleum prospecting put a lot of money in the pockets of citizens and government alike, but when the prospecting ended, so did the money flow. We drove by a huge new construction site--the future home of the Richland County Judicial Center--read "county jail," but when we stopped for gas, the station owner told us that last year's gas prices pretty much put him out of business. The remote location and small business volume meant that regular was over $5.00 a gallon, which in turn meant that the good folk of Richland County parked their pickup trucks and stayed home. Gas had now come down in price, below $3.00, but still the highest we'd seen on the road, and since we were getting only seven miles per gallon, we were seeing a lot of gas pumps.

North of Sidney we crossed into Roosevelt County, a long, slim county on the north bank of the Missouri River and home of the Fort Peck Indian Reservation (home to various bands of the Assiniboine and Sioux nations). We were bound north, however, and soon crossed into Sheridan County (number 34), Montana's northeastern corner.

Passing the towns of Culbertson, Froid (both in Roosevelt County), Medicine Lake and Antelope, we arrived in Plentywood, the County Seat in time to get some good shots of the extremely official looking Sheridan County Court House, and then let the kids out for a walk and potty break. Plentywood was also a good spot to stop for lunch, and we ended up at a mom and pop burger place where our waitress was overjoyed to tell us all about her trip to hear some country singer. I know I should remember just which one gave the concert she loved, but frankly, they all look (and sound) alike to me. Maybe Kevin can tell you if you're interested.

The next county west of Sheridan is Daniels County, a place that has some personal importance to me. When my father was recruited to come west back in 1946, the first church he was offered was the Methodist Church in Scobey, Montana. My parents had never been west of Columbus, Ohio, and so they asked about Scobey. When told it was out on the northern plains, near both the Canadian and North Dakota borders, they asked if there was anywhere else available. As it turned out, Stevensville in the Bitterroot Valley was also open, and my parents jumped at Stevensville. I'll always wonder what my life would have been like had only Scobey been open.

Daniels County (number 37) seems much more rural and much poorer than its eastern neighbor--although neither county could be considered rich or urban. Scobey just presents an air of genteel poverty that we didn't see in Plentywood. The Court House is the kind of white-clapboard construction I would have expected to find almost everywhere in Montana, had I not started out on my 56 Court House project.

As the sign says, it's the "Daniels County Court House."
Taken in Scobey, Montana

OK, this really looks like the Old West to me. I was surprised not to see cowboys riding horses down Main Street. Oh and by the way, the Methodist Church is just around the corner. I love the Bitterroot Valley and my land west of Stevensville. It's always felt like my hometown. My parents were good at making most places they lived feel like home, but I just cannot imagine either of them happy in Scobey. But then, I spent at most an hour in the town--and I have to admit I was prejudiced against it from the start. It's the place I was not born, not conceived. The place my parents said "No" to back before I was born.

Leaving Scobey, we drove almost due south until we crossed into the Fort Peck Reservation then back into Roosevelt County (number 17). When we reached US Highway 2, we turned west and drove into Wolf Point, the Seat of Roosevelt County. I was beginning to catch on to Kevin's trick for finding court houses -- look for the radio antennae -- and we had no trouble finding this government building. I was shocked at the amount of fire damage we saw around town--and judging by the yellow tape we saw, I'd guess that we were looking at arson scenes. Then again, it could just be a symptom of poverty, alcohol abuse, and bad luck. Who's to say. The Court House was well-kept, however, and the grounds were green and well tended.

Roosevelt County Court House
Note the Antenna on the right side of the building
Taken in Wolf Point, Montana

Back on Highway 2, we continued west into Valley County (number 20) where I shot the Court House in the County Seat of Glasgow (Go Scotties!) then further west into Phillips County (number 11) where we parked the beast in an RV park in the County Seat of Malta. The park had wireless internet service, and I was able to get some work done there, but I was playing catch up and didn't succeed in getting everything done. That's why, two months later, you're just reading about our day fighting the wind in the northeastern corner of Montana.

On Day 6, we completed our circle and got home safely--just in time for record cold temperatures and snow. But I'll write about that some other time.

At the top of the page, for the record, is what the Scobey United Methodist Church looks like today. Back in 1946, it was a parish to itself. These days it's yoked to two other churches, the United Methodist Churches in Plentywood and Redstone--a small town halfway between Scobey and Plentywood. Yoked means that the three churches are served by one minister who splits his (or in this case, her) time between the three.

One last note--the wind never stopped blowing. You can get a taste of the weather we experienced by looking at the sky in each of the five photos.

The Two Thousand Mile Sunday Drive--Day Four

Look at that face -
Just look at it,
Look at that fabulous face of yours.
I knew first look I took at it,
This was the face that the world adores.

Look at those eyes -
As wise and as deep as the sea.
Look at that nose -
It shows what a nose should be.

--Leslie Bricusse & Anthony Newley

To hear Barbara Streisand sing a portion of "Look at that Face," click here.

After breakfast at the Hotel, we loaded up the kids and headed east on I-90 toward Rapid City. Rapid City calls itself the Presidential City and has statues of various US presidents on almost every downtown corner. Of course this is based on its proximity to Mount Rushmore. A brief visit to Best Buy allowed me to buy a charger for my Nikon's battery (with adaptable plates to accept virtually every battery Nikon has ever put in a digital camera). We didn't spend any extra time visiting the city, however, as we really wanted to get to Rushmore. The news report on the previous evening had noted that because of the storms we had driven through, the monument was closed to the public on Monday. Tuesday's sky was bright and clear without a single cloud visible, so we were hoping that we'd be able to see the carved granite up close and personal.

There is so much traffic between Rapid City and Rushmore, that most of the way is a divided four-lane road. The last few miles, however, are two lane leading to a parking area where we had to pay $10 to park the beast. Our Golden Eagle pass was no help as there is no admission fee, per se, just a fee to park in a privately owned facility. Of course we really didn't need to park and walk. The mountain and its carving is visible for quite a ways. But the newly constructed viewing area was interesting in its own right--not only for the fact that the approach to the mountain has been changed. If you look at my photo of the faces, you'll see Washington looking straight out at us, while the other three are at an angle. The view used by the state of South Dakota, however, is more what I remember from previous trips to Rushmore. Washington is facing at an angle and Roosevelt and Jefferson are more "head on." I guess it's just another example of nothing being permanent but change.

Taken 10/6/09 at Mount Rushmore, South Dakota

After a respectful amount of time out in the cold air, we climbed back in the truck and drove on through the Black Hills, up hill and down, past lots of different tourist traps, as my father would have called them. At Pactola Lake, we stopped to let the critters do their business, and once again, Major got away from us. While I tried to head him off, dragging three other dogs with me, Kevin ran after him and was soon able to grab him.

Lake Pactola, South Dakota
Taken 10/6/09

Back in the truck, we drove on to Deadwood, which, while having many interesting historical buildings, looks nothing like the town in the tv show. While Kevin dropped some money on a blackjack table at Cadillac Jack's Casino, I walked around town getting a few photos.

From Deadwood we headed back to Spearfish, this time driving north on US 85 to Belle Fourche where we stopped for lunch. I told Kevin not to have any dessert, as there were great milkshakes waiting for us at Crow Buttes. I did ask our waitress if the general store at that particular wide spot in the road still served shakes, but she didn't know what I was talking about. She must not ever drive north from Belle Fourche because right at the north end of town was a billboard advertising the Crow Buttes Mercantile.

Belle Fourche (pronounced Foosh, btw), is the eastern end of a cattle trail out of southern Montana. The story of the area was told in a 1972 John Wayne movie, The Cowboys, as Kevin and our restaurant menu told me. It is also the town closest to the geographical center of the United States--a place I visited two years ago.

A little less than an hour north of town, we crossed the county line from Butte to Harding County and stopped at Crow Buttes. I'm pleased to note that the great milkshake I had two years ago on the 6,000 Mile Sunday Drive was replicated on this trip. The store, its gas pumps, rv hookup sites and living quarters are for sale, should any of you wish to buy a job out in the middle of nowhere.

The Crow Buttes (and US Highway 85)
Harding County, South Dakota
Taken 10/6/09

Crow Buttes is the site of a tragic event in native american history. A sign erected by the Butte County Historical Society tells of a battle in 1822 between the Sioux and the Crow. The Sioux attacked a Crow Camp, and when the Crow men fled to the hills to gain a better vantage point, the Sioux raped the Crow women. The Crow men, having no water, died of thirst on the hills which the Sioux had encircled. Karma being what it is, the Sioux attackers died of a fever they contracted from the Crow. Truly a no-win situation.

Harding County is the northwestern most county in South Dakota and we soon passed into Bowman County, North Dakota. North of Bowman, we drove through Slope County--home of both the highest point in North Dakota (at 3600 feet it's just 400 feet higher than the valley floor where we live in Montana) and the smallest county seat in the nation. Amidon has an official population of 26 and the largest building in this village is, indeed, the Court House.

OK, It's not the Devil's Tower, but perhaps his bunion?
Taken 10/6/09 in Slope County North Dakota

We hit I-94 just west of Dickinson, and started our trip back to Montana stopping for the night at mile 1, Beach North Dakota, where, true to his vocation, Kevin parked the Beast between several larger rigs at the Flying J truck stop. We've now spent four days on the road and have stayed overnight in four different states. Tomorrow we're back in Montana. Stay tuned.

The Two Thousand Mile Sunday Drive--Day Three

The Big Horn County Court House
Taken 10/5/09 in Basin, Wyoming

Monday Monday, can't trust that day,
Monday Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way
Oh Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be
Oh Monday Monday, how yould cou leave and not take me.

--John Phillips

To hear the Mamas and the Papas sing "Monday, Monday," click here.

First, a disclaimer. None of the pictures I'm sharing today will ever win any awards. They're here just to show you what kind of weather we had.

Just as Saturday and Sunday, Monday got off to a late start. Not because we loved camping in the WalMart parking lot, heaven forfend. As I noted at the end of Day Two's blog, the snow really began coming down. Every time we got out to let the dogs out, there was no evidence that we'd been out earlier--our tracks were completely filled in.

As we exercised the dogs one last time before taking to the road, Major, our newest, got free from his lead and took off. I should mention that the reason we have Major in the first place is that a friend found him running loose in an industrial parking lot and scooped him up--leaving him with us until his true owners could be located. That was several months ago now, and we consider Major our dog. But he does like to run and once he starts, he just has to go. He will not come when called. We had just about decided that Cody would be his new home, when we caught sight of him by a coffee shop across the highway from WalMart. By this time, he was very happy to get back in the truck.

We had asked several people what would be the best route from Cody to Gillette. Neither of us had driven these roads before, although as a child I'd ridden many times as my father drove from Cody to Powell and back to the Billings area. There were three options for our east bound journey: US 14 through Sheridan, US 16 through Buffalo, and there were two ways to get to Buffalo--to Greybull and then along the Bighorn River or through Meeteetse. Both roads meet at Worland, then US 16 continues east.

No one had a good answer for us, although most counseled that given the weather, the road to Sheridan would be difficult. No one told us that Powder River Pass on US 16 is almost 10,000 feet.

Ever on the quest to capture court houses, I prevailed on Kevin to try the Greybull to Worland route. The snow continued to fall intermittently as we headed east, but it was calm in Greybull when we stopped to ask where the Bighorn County Court House could be found. The man we asked answered that the court house was another eight miles down the road in the next town, Basin. Greybull was not the county seat.

The previous evening, I had captured the Park County (Wyoming) Court House, a much more stately edifice than the Park County (Montana) complex. And on Monday I was able to get the Bighorn County (Wyoming) Court House and the Washakie County Court House as well. I also shot this rose on the grounds of the Washakie County C.H. in Worland. I'm sure it wasn't quite ready for winter either.

Rose on the grounds of the Washakie County Court House
Taken 10/5/09 in Worland, Wyoming

East of Worland lies the oddly named town of Ten Sleep. I have heard of Ten Sleep for many years, but I'd never been through the town, nor had I any clue about the origin of its name. For a moment I pondered if it might be from some pioneer Dutch family, but no, apparently it refers to the route the Sioux took from the Platte River to southern Montana, and Ten Sleep was ten nights north of the Platte. Immediately after leaving Ten Sleep, the road began to climb, and we passed a sign saying that if the lights were flashing, the road would be closed seven miles ahead.

The lights were not flashing, so we drove on, passing numerous signs warning of impending road closure--but the lights were never flashing. Actually, we passed so many such signs all the way across Wyoming that we decided closed highways were a regular part of Wyoming life.

Scenery (such as it was) east of Ten Sleep, Wyoming
Taken 10/5/09

I have no idea how many miles we drove from Ten Sleep through what has to be some absolutely stunning scenery. Unfortunately, the snow was falling so thick and fast that we could barely see any of it. We will have to return sometime when the weather is more clement. What I do know is that the road continued to climb before us. We drove so long climbing the steep grade, that I began to doubt the existence of a summit or pass. We would just climb forever. And though it certainly felt that way, eventually we did reach Powder River Pass (9,666 feet), having climbed over 5,000 feet from Ten Sleep. From here it was all downhill.

I'd like to say the weather got better, but that would be a lie. I remain grateful for Kevin's skill and patience. I would have been in a panic trying to get our heavy rig up and over in those conditions. When we finally reached the bottom of the pass and drove into Buffalo, we found a city almost paralyzed by the snow. Broken tree limbs were everywhere, and the McDonalds, where we stopped to eat after not being able to get gas at Cenex ("Sorry, our pumps aren't working.") was not able to accept credit or debit cards. The heavy snow had played havoc with the computer connections around the town. For some undoubtedly unrelated reason, the ice cream machine wasn't working either.

Kevin's view of the road, US Highway 16
Taken 10/5/09 in Central Wyoming

At Douglas we picked up Interstate 90 again, and continued east toward Gillette, Sundance, and eventually Rapid City South Dakota. We continued to pass signs warning that the road could be closed, but it wasn't. Kevin drove through snow, drizzle and low clouds, but he continued on bravely through the weather. At Moorcroft, we left I-90 for US 14 headed toward Devil's Tower. I've never been near enough to the monument to actually see it, and I kept wondering if Richard Dreyfus would suddenly appear on his way to a close encounter. What can I say, the Tower is impressive, rising vertically from the rather level ground around it. Unfortunately, it was impressive but only half visible. We have to do this trip during good weather sometime.

Back to I-90 at Sundance, on past Beulah with its signs warning that this was our last chance to get low-priced Wyoming gas, and cross the border into South Dakota. Should you ever take this route, be forewarned. Gas in South Dakota is at least twenty cents less than gas in Wyoming. Also a word of warning--the price shown on signs in South Dakota is for Plus or mid grade, not regular. Regular is usually about ten cents a gallon more than Plus. As it turns out, Plus is 10% ethanol, and the good people of South Dakota want to make sure that their corn farmers are adequately employed.

Kevin insisted that tonight we would stay in a motel--good thing since none of the campgrounds we tried were open. Super 8 in Spearfish gladly took us, our four dogs and our money, and gave us a room with two beds, a shower, a hot breakfast the next day and a hot tub--well the latter was not in our room. We had to run to K-Mart and get end of season close-out swim trunks at 2.99 each. Running the dogs around the hotel in the middle of the night was the only reason to get out of bed. We both slept well.

To be continued....

Devil's Tower
Pretty impressive even under these conditions
Taken 10/5/09

The Two Thousand Mile Sunday Drive--Day Two

The Yellowstone River at Gardner Montana
North Entrance to Yellowstone National Park
Taken 10/4/09

Well, there are worse things
Than staring at the water on a Sunday
There are worse things
Than staring at the water
As you're posing for a picture
Being painted by your lover
In the middle of the summer
On an island in the river on a Sunday

--Stephen Sondheim

To hear Jenna Russell sing "Sunday in the Park with George," click here.

Well, there are worse things than driving by the water on a Sunday when you're riding in a truck being driven by your lover in the surprising early winter on a highway by the river on a Sunday. We got a late start out of Bozeman because Kevin had to repair the camper's toilet. We'd bought the parts as we were leaving Missoula, but wanted to get on the road, so it was good we camped out at a rest area Saturday night. Sunday morning meant that we had to get the toilet fixed, and Kevin fixed it. But by the time we were ready to roll, it was ten a.m.

And we weren't really ready to roll, as I had forgotten to pack the battery charger for my camera. Modern cameras don't, as I'm sure you're aware, use any old Duracell battery you can pick up at WalMart or Costco. There was a Staples near us and there had to be a Best Buy nearby as well, didn't there? We headed first to Staples where they could not help us. What about Best Buy? There isn't one in Bozeman. Ah--but there is F 11, arguably the best camera store in the state of Montana. We'll head over there.

Oh, it's Sunday. OK, I'll try to hold out for Rapid City--the next "large" town we'll visit. In the meantime, let's shoot the Gallatin County Court House and get on the road for Livingston.

Livingston is not only the seat of Park County, but also Kevin's home town. Crossing Bozeman Pass, the snow began to fall. This is not unusual on Bozeman Pass--I've been caught in blizzards there in June. Our weather was not that bad, just an unseasonably early winter storm. Kevin pointed out the hills where his family ran cattle. He mentioned the names of all the folk who had owned property between the pass and Livingston back in the 60s. He showed me the farm where he grew up.

In Livingston we drove around in circles looking for the Court House. For some reason it's not downtown, but in an otherwise residential district. Eventually, with the help of a woman just getting out of church, we found the "City-County Complex." Like other places around the state, Livingston and Park County have combined their forces in a single building--unfortunately a rather modern, non-descript building at that. I won't share the pictures I took of it here.

Before getting back on the road, Kevin filled the truck's tank, topping us off after driving 48 miles from the last fill, and I headed over to Albertson's for some provisions to fill the camper. That done, we headed south on US 89, the Montana Centennial Highway which runs north/south between Glacier National Park and Yellowstone. We were headed for Gardner, Montana, the North Entrance to Yellowstone.

Devil's Slide on the Yellowstone River
Park County, Montana
Taken 10/4/09

Along the way we drove through the Paradise Valley, known as home to various celebrities including Peter Fonda. Jimmy Buffett spent a lot of time in this region, and has written and sung lots of songs celebrating, if that's the word, Livingston, including "Livingston Saturday Night."

This is also the region where I spent a lot of time as a child at Luccock Park, the Methodist Church Camp in the valley, and it's where we got our first Miniature Pinscher, Dinah--the dog I grew up with. I tried to point this out to the kids, but they seemed supremely uninterested, even when I told them that none of them would be in my life if it weren't for Dinah.

One final note on the Paradise Valley. This was the home to a large cult called The Church Universal and Triumphant, run by Elizabeth Clare Prophet. The link will take you to the Wikipedia entry on that group. It seemed to me appropriate that in the same general area is a large, red, rock slide called "The Devil's Slide." I made sure to photograph it.

Once past the town of Gardner, we drove through the Roosevelt Arch and entered Yellowstone National Park. One of my favorite locations in the Park is Mammoth Hot Springs. We stopped and took some pictures, while Kevin commented on the smell. Yes, there is a definite odor of sulphur in the air. It reminds me that when John Coulter, the first caucasian to visit the area returned to "civilization" and reported on what he'd seen, his friends referred to the region as "Coulter's Hell."

Bison grazing along the road
Taken 10/4/09 in Yellowstone National Park

Snow continued to fall as we drove south. Some roads in the park were closed because of construction, and some due to snow and ice, but we were able to drive from Mammoth to Norris, Norris to Canyon, Canyon to Fishing Bridge, and then out of the Park through the East Entrance into Wyoming. Along the way we did not see much in the way of wildlife, except for a couple of herds of bison and a few big horn sheep. We did see a surprising number of tourists considering that we were all braving the elements and road closures to drive through the Park. I reconfirmed my suspicion that Kevin had not grown up visiting the Park, the way I did, and he assured me that this was probably the third time he had ever been in Yellowstone, and the first time he'd actually stopped to see the sights. I just can't fathom that.

Lower Falls of the Yellowstone River
Taken 10/4/09 at Artists' Point

Another of my favorite spots in the Park is the view point for the lower falls on the Yellowstone River. My father took some wonderful shots of this feature, and I keep trying to keep up with him. This trip we took the drive up the South Rim to Artist's Point where I got some good work done, if I do say so myself.

At Fishing Bridge, we turned east and headed toward Cody, Wyoming. We drove through miles of forest land burned a few years back and not doing particularly well at reforestation. Up and over Sylvan Pass, we drove down alongside one of the tributaries to the Shosone River. Most of the Park is within the limits of the state of Wyoming, with only small portions in Montana and Idaho. Of the five entrances to the Park, however, three are in Montana. We had entered at the North and were leaving by the East. Another fifty miles of beautiful scenery and we arrived in Cody, the nominal home of Buffalo Bill. After a fine dinner at a Mexican Restaurant named La Comida, we parked the beast at (Don't gasp now) Wal-Mart, and became one more of those RV'ing families who drive from Wal-Mart to Wal-Mart.

One fork of the Shoshone River, Fall Colors
Taken 10/4/09 in Yellowstone National Park

The snow was coming down in earnest now, and a reader board we had seen at Walgreen's warned of a Winter Storm through the next morning. We hunkered down and rode it out.

More to come.

The Two Thousand Mile Sunday Drive--Day One

On the road again
Just can't wait to get on the road again
The life I love is makin' music with my friends
And I can't wait to get on the road again
On the road again
Goin' places that I've never been
Seein' things that I may never see again,
And I can't wait to get on the road again.

---Willie Nelson

To hear Willie Nelson sing "On the Road Again," click here.

Powell County Montana Court House

Taken 10/3/09 in Deer Lodge, Montana

It's four o’clock Sunday morning, the fourth of October. I’m wide awake, and the camper is pitching like a small boat at sea. That tells me it’s time to share my adventures with you, my faithful public. Oh, but there’s no internet connection available to me here in this rest area on the west side of Bozeman Montana. Well then, I’ll write it up and get it on line when I can, even if that means a week from now. So how did I come to find myself in this odd situation? Sit back, relax, and I’ll share the story with you.

Around the middle of August, when it became apparent that we were not going to have a summer vacation, Kevin started telling me “You have to take the first two weeks of October off.” I replied that with our office hosting a conference the third week of September, another one the very end of that same month, and a third the third week in October, there was absolutely no way I could take two weeks off when he wanted me to. Then I started getting sick.

I’ve been prone to attacks of vertigo and nausea in the past—many, many years ago, but I hadn’t noticed any problem in that area for at least thirty-five years. When I woke one Wednesday in early September unable to comfortably navigate my way downstairs, I assumed from the symptoms, that I had contracted a variety of flu. It’s all the rage these days, and our local paper was reporting on the number of people who were missing school or calling in sick to work because of it. When the symptoms didn’t clear up after a week, I called my doctor who assured me that the change he had just ordered in my medication (Metformin to get my blood sugar levels down) could, indeed, cause similar symptoms. He cut me back to my previous level and the symptoms disappeared.

By now it was conference time and we were all going full-tilt boogie trying to keep on top of the daily office work while chauffeuring conference speakers from their hotel to campus, to the various dinners we had arranged for them, and to and from the airport. Oh, and did I mention we were trying to attend the conference sessions as well? The symptoms returned.

Now I’m no fool. I can recognize the affects of stress as well as the next guy. I told Kevin I’d ask for the first week in October, but there was no way I could take two. That would only add to my stress as I’d be thinking of all that wasn’t getting done while I was out “relaxing.” And so Friday, October 2^nd, as I turned the van in after spending another week chauffeuring conference speakers around, I told Kevin “That’s it. I’m all yours.” And we hit the road.

Well, it wasn’t quite that easy. First we had Friday dinner with our good friends Mike and Norm. We do this just about every Friday. Then we noticed that the refrigerator/freezer in the camper wasn’t working. When you opened the door, you didn’t get a blast of cold air but rather a face full of ammonia. Not pleasant at all, and not a good prospect for storing food. A call to Gull Boats and RV, the authorized Lance camper dealer in Missoula, taught us that the unit had died and would have to be replaced. That would take at least $1500 and a week’s time. “But we’re leaving tomorrow,” I cried. Oh well, that’s why we have ice chests.

Neither Kevin nor I slept well Friday night, but upon arising Saturday morning, we were ready to drive. Almost. We had filled the camper’s water tanks when we thought we’d be getting out earlier in the summer, but that water had sat, unused, for months. Kevin felt it best to drain the tanks and refill them. Fine by me. Also, the 80+ degree temperatures we’d had all of September had left us with the advent of October, and we were now looking at snow on the mountains and night-time temperatures in the thirties. Good thing we have a furnace in the camper.

While Kevin ran some last minute errands, I started packing the clothing and food we’d want to take. The symptoms returned. Kevin got home to find me lying down, attempting to control the vertigo. Some clothing packed, but not all, and no food. Kevin finished the packing, having asked me if we should cancel the trip. My response was “NO WAY!” He then refilled the water tanks, opened the camper’s bathroom door, and found that he’d flooded the bathroom. Apparently the water connection to the toilet had broken. Turning up the thermostat to check on the furnace operations proved to be futile as the furnace just wouldn’t kick on. All righty then. Still the show must go on, so before we could leave town, we pointed the truck in the direction of Gull Boats to get the parts needed to fix both the toilet and the furnace.

At this point, you’re probably asking “Why on earth are you so intent on leaving town?” Good question, and one I hope to answer over the next week. For now, a bit of history.

A little over twenty years ago, standing in front of the Judith Basin County Court House in Stanford, Montana, I was struck with how stately a building the very few people of that county had erected to hold their local government. As I drove around the state, I kept being impressed by the various county court houses I found in Montana. A plan came to mind. I’d do a coffee table photo album showcasing the fifty-six Montana court houses—a section on each of the state’s counties. The statehood centennial was approaching in 1989, and I figured this would be a great centennial project. But having neither the time nor the money to undertake the project, it sat, undone, in the back of my mind. As I’d drive the state’s highways, I’d stop to photograph any courthouse I saw, but I never made it to all fifty-six counties.

As my long-time readers will recall, in 2007 I took my “Six Thousand Mile Sunday Drive,” documenting that adventure in words and photographs—including several photos of government buildings. I even managed to pick up a few out-of-the way Montana court houses. Recently I put several of my court house photos up on my sales site at RedBubble and was encouraged to continue the project. When Kevin suggested a week off, I thought, “Great, I’ll capture more courthouses.”

Kevin had recently confided in me that his childhood was quite different from my own. He lived for many years right on the northern border of Yellowstone National Park, and never visited that scenic wonder. My parents, on the other hand, took every visitor they could drag along into the park. Kevin had also never seen Mount Rushmore, or the Dakota Badlands. Maybe we could combine objectives, and take a shorter version of my 2007 trip—a “Two Thousand Mile Sunday Drive.” And that’s why we’re on the road today.

Gull Boats either did not have the parts we needed or the clerk in the parts department was ill-informed, I don’t know which, but while the four dogs and I waited somewhat patiently in the pickup cab, Kevin spent twenty-five minutes inside not getting any satisfaction. We drove on to Bretz RV and Marine, where we should have gone in the first place, and he returned in no time, parts in hand. By the time we filled both propane bottles for the camper, we were finally ready to get on Interstate 90 and head east. Except by now it’s past two o’clock and we haven’t had lunch. One more stop at the truck stop east of Missoula for Arby’s, and by three we were finally “on the road again.”

Within ten miles it was clear that we were driving into the wind. The gusts made it hard to control the truck, and while it pitched and rolled, Kevin fought valiantly to keep it within the white lines on the pavement. After about an hour of this, I asked if we were, indeed, fools to undertake such a trip given the prospect of wintry weather and high winds. Kevin replied “Probably,” and kept driving. As Interstate 90 turned south at Garrison Junction, our winds became trailing, pushing the rather large box down the highway at a good clip. Alas, only a small portion of our route involves southbound travel.

In Deer Lodge, the first town of any size east of Missoula, we stopped at Les Schwab and had the “Ride-Right”s pumped up. This is a system of airbags I added to the pickup when I purchased the Lance camper. It helps the springs support the additional weight and gives a much smoother ride. When we pulled in, the system was holding 35 pounds pressure. We left with 50.

Just two blocks from the tire store sits the Powell County Court House, one that I hadn’t previously captured. While I shot the court house, Kevin walked the dogs. Soon we were back on I-90, and the ride was considerably smoother. The wind was still at our back and we wasted no time getting to Anaconda, the seat of Deer Lodge County. (No, you’re not confused—the city of Deer Lodge is the seat of Powell County. Anaconda is the seat of Deer Lodge County. Don’t they do things like that in your state?)

Anaconda Smoke Stack State Park

Taken 10/3/09 in Anaconda Montana

Anaconda is known for several things. It has a world-class golf course designed by Jack Nicklaus. It has a state park that no one is allowed to visit (the smoke stack from the now demolished smelter that the Anaconda Company used to process all the ore taken out from beneath neighboring Butte). It also has miles and miles of slag heaps, built up over a hundred years of mining operations in Butte. And it has a number of stately buildings dating from the early twentieth century. One of those is the court house. In the late nineteenth century, one of Montana’s major political battles took place when Anaconda fought Helena for the role of state capitol. Anaconda, the city, lost the battle, but until 1972 and the new Montana State Constitution, Anaconda, the company, ran the state. The Deer Lodge County Court House looks like the people of the city wanted to erect a new capitol building. I find it an amazing structure, and was pleased to be able to add it to my photographic captures.

Deer Lodge County Court House

Taken 10/3/09 in Anaconda Montana

Heading east from Anaconda to Butte, we were again buffeted by the winds, but with the increased air pressure in the Ride-Rights, the truck handled itself in good fashion. I did begin worrying about what this was doing to our gas mileage. Under the best of conditions, the F250, heavy duty, long bed, four wheel drive pickup doesn’t get stellar mileage. Add a 3,000 pound box, rising over ten feet from the ground, and the food, water, clothing etc for two men and four dogs, and you’re putting a lot of resistance into the wind. Still, I was counting on nine miles per gallon.

The Silver Bow County Court House is imposing as befits the governmental seat of a community that housed one quarter of the state’s population at the time of its construction. I knew exactly where to find the building as it sits kitty-cornered from the church my father served when I was five years old.

The Silver Bow County Court House

Taken 10/3/09 in Butte, Montana

We crossed the Continental Divide at Homestake Pass east of Butte, and found ourselves moving with the big boys (that is 35-40 miles per hour) up the Cardston Grade a bit further east, but soon we were down in the Gallatin Valley at Three Forks where the Madison, the Jefferson and the Gallatin Rivers all come together to form the Missouri. From there it was just a hop, skip and jump to Belgrade (Montana, not Serbia) where we stopped for dinner at the Flying J. You see, when you travel with a trucker, you end up eating in truck stops. Nothing on the menu looked good to me—I just spent the last week high on the hog with an international group of experts on the Middle East. We ate at some of the finest restaurants in Missoula, and I’d had steak in one form or another for four of the previous five days. The steaks on the Flying J menu just did not appeal—nor did anything else. I ordered breakfast. Kevin had a flatiron steak which came with two sides. He asked for a baked potato and “thousand island.” The waitress, a blond to be sure, looked so shocked that I feared he would get a bottle of dressing but no salad. My corned beef hash and eggs also came with two sides, and I requested an English muffin and a serving of cottage cheese. When our meals came, we decided simultaneously that we wouldn’t ever bother stopping at this particular Flying J again. When Kevin asked for jelly for my English Muffin (there was none on the table), the waitress said “Chili?” Poor dear, she didn’t deserve it, but we gave her 20% anyway.

By now it was too dark to do any further photography, and Kevin was too tired to do any further driving, so he pulled into the new rest area on the west end of Bozeman, parked the pickup into the wind, and we went to bed—at eight thirty. Which is why I’m sitting here, wide awake, at 5:19 am, while the truck rocks and rolls with the wind.

And by the way, we fed the truck at the Flying J as well. We had driven 217 miles and used 28.6 gallons of gas. You can do the math yourselves, if you wish, but that’s not nine miles per gallon—closer to 7.5.

About to be carried off to Oz (I said it was windy)
Taken 10/4/09 in Bozeman Montana

New Yaak Times

Oo ah oo ah oo oo, Kitty
Tell us about the boy
From New York City
Oo ah oo ah come on, Kitty
Tell us about the boy
From New York City

George Davis & John T. Taylor

To hear the Manhattan Transfer sing Boy From New York City, click here.

Thompson River
Taken 7/26/09
Sanders County, Montana

Clicking on a photo or a link will open a new window. In my opinion, these photos look much better at full screen, so that's what will happen should you click on one. You also have the option of seeing all the edited photos from this trip on my Picasa web gallery.

In the early days of vehicular traffic, Montana's cities sold license plates printed with the city name on the plate. In the early 1930s, Montana standardized plates state-wide, using a one or two digit code to designate the county of registration. This system remains in place today, although with the advent first of vanity plates and then affinity plates, more and more cars sport the three letter, three number system used by so many other states. Montanans of my generation can still tell you what county a car comes from if the car owner just gets the no extra cost regular plate. The county numbers haven't changed since they were first introduced over seventy years ago. They represent the political clout a given county had in the state legislature back when the system was first introduced.

Lincoln County is neither the smallest county in area, nor the last county created in the state. It has never been the smallest county in population either, but in a state with fifty-six counties, Lincoln County vehicles bear the number 56. This reflects the remoteness of the northwestern most county in a very remote and sparsely populated state. And in remote Lincoln County, far from any possible madding crowd, flows the Yaak River. After spending Saturday on the Blackfoot River, on Sunday we climbed in the back seat of Mike and Norm's 1997 Lincoln Town Car and headed north and west. We were going to see the Yaak.

As I noted in my post Adventures in HDR after having spent a day on the edge of Glacier Park, we had planned to drive back and head across the Going to the Sun Highway. This would be a very long day, however, and we were worried if Norm had the stamina for the trip. Norm, however, had other ideas. He wanted to see the Yaak. Of the four of us, only Kevin had ever been to the Yaak, so in time we agreed, and Sunday's drive, while no shorter than the planned Glacier trip, presented a fascinating collage of rivers, forests, mountains, lakes, rain and sunshine.

When Mike and Norm first moved to Montana from Memphis, they bought land and a cabin just outside Thompson Falls, the county seat of Sanders County (number 35 on our license plates). Thompson Falls proved too remote when Norm was needing dialysis three times a week, which meant a two-hundred-mile round trip drive to Missoula for each session. They sold their place in Thompson, found a house just across the railroad tracks from us, and moved to Missoula. Mike, Norm, Kevin and I get together roughly three times a week for dinner, ham radio events, or sight-seeing jaunts across western Montana.

We left Missoula (county number 4) heading north on US 93 and crossed into Lake County (number 15) just south of the town of Arlee on the Flathead Indian Reservation. At Ravalli, we turned west on Montana highway 200, and followed the Flathead River toward its confluence with the Clark Fork just east of Paradise. (I could make a comment about being East of Eden, but I'll forego that pleasure.) Along the way we crossed into Sanders County, and stopped to pick up some road food at the supermarket in Thompson.

Our route north from Thompson took us on a forest service road (read dirt and gravel, not pavement) along the western bank of the Thompson River. Who is this Thompson anyway? Well, David Thompson (1770-1857) was an explorer, a fur trapper, and as one web-site puts it, "arguably the greatest geographer the world has ever known." You can find more information on Thompson than you probably ever would want by clicking here.

Thompson River Valley Farm
Taken 7/26/09
Sanders County, Montana

Now if you remember your US History lessons, prior to the signing of the Oregon Treaty in 1846, all the land north of the 42nd parallel and west of the Rocky Mountains was in dispute. The US referred to this area as Oregon Country and the British called it the Columbia Department of the Hudson's Bay Company. You may have heard of a campaign slogan from the 1840s, "Fifty-four forty or fight." This slogan referred to the southern boundary of Russian America (established in 1825), the area we now know as Alaska, which was simultaneously the northern boundary of Oregon Country/Columbia District. I'm sure you've heard the phrase "Manifest Destiny" which also refers to the fact that Americans felt it their God-given right to control all land from the Atlantic to the Pacific, including all of Oregon Country. President Polk campaigned on the issue of securing America's northwest, but in the end chose to compromise with the British, rather than fight them, and the 49th parallel was set as the international boundary. Polk found other ways to be belligerent, however, and at the same time add to the US land mass by sending in troops to fight the Mexicans, understandably upset over the loss of Texas. Unfortunately for the Mexicans, they lost this war which led to the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo which added the land south of the 42nd parallel and west of the Rockies to the U.S. In short, having already lost Texas in 1845, Mexico lost an additional 55% of its land thanks to this treaty. If you live in the states of California, Nevada, Utah, most of Arizona and New Mexico, and that part of Colorado and Wyoming west of the Rockies (and south of the 42nd parallel), you live in what was Mexico until the 1840s. The little bit of Arizona and New Mexico that wasn't ceded by the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo was then purchased from Mexico in 1853 in what is known as the Gadsden Purchase. The purchase was supposed to include considerably more land than we actually took, but for some reason, the Mexicans, having first lost Texas then everything west of the Rockies through the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, just didn't want to give up any more land. Go figure.

But this post covers the Northwest, not the Southwest, so let's return to David Thompson, the Hudson Bay Company and Oregon Country. More specifically, let's return to Sanders and Lincoln Counties, Montana, where Thompson, in the employ of the Hudson Bay Company, left his name on just about every topographical feature to be found. As we drove north along the Thompson River, the rain began to fall. It would follow us, off and on, the rest of the day.

In time, we reached US highway 2, and turned west toward the Lincoln County seat of Libby. Libby has become known nationally, and perhaps world-wide, because of the law suits against the W.R. Grace Company who until recently mined vermiculite there. The resulting asbestos exposure has made life a living hell for many Libby residents. Asbestos be damned, we said, and stopped for breakfast at the Treasure Mountain Casino Restaurant. My $4.99 steak and eggs breakfast was one of the best breakfasts I've had. And you certainly couldn't beat the price.

Yaak Falls
Taken 7/26/09
Lincoln County, Montana

Having fed both ourselves and the Lincoln, we continued west on 2 through the town of Troy. When we first turned onto Highway 2, we passed a chain of lakes, also named for David Thompson. At Libby our route took us alongside the Kootenai River which has its headwaters in Canada, flows south into Montana, west into Idaho, north back into Canada, and finally joins the Columbia. Western Montana is a mountainous region, and the average elevation across the state is close to 3,000 feet. Missoula, for example sits at 3200 feet. At Troy, the mountains above us made it hard to believe that the lowest point in the state is where the Kootenai River crosses into Idaho (1800 feet in elevation). Less than five miles from the Idaho state line, we turned north to follow the Yaak, and immediately began climbing.

We stopped to check out a campground on the Yaak, then again at Yaak Falls where both I and my camera got thoroughly soaked. No I didn't fall in the river or over the falls, but the rain picked up again while I was studying a group of teen-aged boys who were climbing the falls then jumping off the cliffs into the river below.

Boys will be boys
Taken 7/26/09
Yaak Falls, Lincoln County Montana

Back in the car, soaked to the skin, I kept quiet as we drove through the town of Yaak--ok, the wide spot in the road known as Yaak. I would have liked to stop at the bar and asked if the newspaper was still being published. Yes, I'm afraid it's true, there used to be a paper, or maybe more of a newsletter, printed up and distributed under the name of The New Yaak Times. According to the Library of Congress, this paper was printed monthly in Bonner's Ferry Idaho, just across the state line. The road continued to twist, turn and climb, until sixty miles from the lowest point in the state, we crossed a pass at nearly 7,000 feet. From there we descended toward the Kootenai River and Lake Koocanusa--a reservoir held back by Libby Dam and named because it's the Kootenai River (KOO) and covers ground in both Canada (CAN) and the US (USA). Bet you'd never have figured that one out.

By this time it was getting late. The GPS unit on the Lincoln's dash was warning us that we needed coffee, and we were all getting tired. A quick stop in the town of Eureka where I found a rare 1958 Packard--well a 1958 Studebaker that had a special nose and Packard badges showing how the mighty fall--then south on US 93 into Flathead County (Number 7--bet ya thought I'd forgotten my county numbers), through the resort community of Whitefish, the county seat of Kalispell, and alongside Flathead Lake which brought us back into Lake County, Missoula County, and home.

Lake Koocanusa near Eureka, Montana
Taken 7/26/09
Lincoln County, Montana

I won't speak for Norm and Mike, but Kevin and I were exhausted and glad to climb into bed once we gave Rocky his shot of insulin. And as for the Yaak? I can't wait to get back up there.

Till next time.