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| Win & Pat with Fred and Lovis Brodbeck at Lewis and Clark Monument |
September 22, 1998
At the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center in Great Falls, Montana, we accidentally met up with the Brodbecks -- old friends from Missouri. We had met earlier in a state park along the Mississippi and toured a working dredge in the river.
Pat and I had become more and more intrigued with the travels of the Corps of Discovery. Having visited the Lewis and Clark trail at both ends -- St. Louis, MO. and Fort Clatsop, OR -- and a place or two in between, we decided that we wanted to retrace some more of the route that they traveled. Due to a limitation of time this fall, we ruled out driving their entire route and settled on one of the most interesting and dramatic portions of their trip -- the southern loop of their trail through southwestern Montana. A major objective of their trip was to determine if there was a northern passage where there might be a water connection between the Atlantic and the Pacific. Consequently, they made the decision to follow the Missouri River to see if there were such a passage at its source.
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| Pat at Seaside, Oregon |
After their exhausting portage around the Great Falls of Montana, members of the Corps tugged and pushed their heavy, wooden canoes up a rapidly flowing, rocky, often shallow and cold, upper Missouri River. At Three Forks, MT (the end of the Missouri River) they named the three rivers that converge where the Jefferson, Madison and Gallatin Rivers, then chose to follow the Jefferson fork because it headed in a more westerly direction than the other rivers. At the next fork they followed the Beaverhead River to the location where Dillon, MT is currently located. From Dillon, it is now possible to follow the travels of the Corps to the headwaters of the Missouri River, across the Continental Divide through Lemhi Pass into Idaho, down the Lemhi Valley to the Salmon River, then follow the North Fork of the Salmon River up to Lost Trail Pass, back across the mountains into Montana, down the Big Hole Valley and then return to Dillon. We figured that this loop of the Continental Divide could be made in one long day’s drive. I reckoned that we could disconnect the Honda CRV from the motorhome and drive this little car about 263 miles to complete the loop.
We established a home base in the Dillon KOA RV Park where we spent the night, then left the motorhome there in the morning. We obtained the necessary road maps, Lewis and Clark brochures and weather and road conditions from the local Forest Service Office in Dillon. They advised that the weather would not be bad, the roads were OK, but suggested that we take a 4-wheel drive vehicle in case of rain. (Two brochures that were very helpful were: Lewis & Clark’s Montana Journey produced by Montana Travel and Lewis and Clark Expedition by the Idaho Travel Council.) We left Dillon about nine in the morning with a full tank of gas and high expectations. Back over our shoulders was Beaverhead Rock that Sacajawea (the Shoshoni woman who accompanied the Corps) had remembered from her youth when she had been carried by her Blackfoot captors down the Missouri River to Fort Mandan, North Dakota. She knew that she was returning to the place where she had been born and captured.
Heading south from Dillon along I15 we hit the intersection of Hwy. 324 and turned into the Clark Canyon Dam area. A Lewis and Clark Memorial explained that under the waters of the dam is the site of Camp Fortunate which served as a home base for the Corps while Lewis and a couple of this men scouted ahead for a route across the Beaverhead Mountains. They were also impatient to make contact with the Shoshoni Tribe because, without a water route for canoes, they needed horses to carry men and tons of gear. The Shoshoni had lots of horses. Lewis finally observed a single Indian on horseback a couple of miles away. Lewis made peaceful gestures and sounds, but the Indian became spooked and left as they approached him. But then they found an Indian Trail that led up and over Lemhi Pass.
As Pat and I attempted to follow their route, we turned off of Hwy. 324 onto a gravel road named the Lewis and Clark Trail on the Salmon National Forest map. A sign at the intersection pointed the way to Lemhi Pass. The gravel road wound across a creek bottom and up the grass and sage pastures. Picturesque A-frame log fences lined the road and Black Angus cattle dotted the distant hillsides looking much like foraging black bears. The Beaverhead Mountains dominated the horizon in the background and were framed against the mixed blue and cloudy skies. It seemed a perfect view of the landscape for a photo to help us remember the sight and our delight at seeing this “Big Sky” view of country Montana. Carefully posing Pat beside the Lewis and Clark icon on the road sign, I obtained the exact view that I wished to preserve. I squeezed the shutter button and heard a whirring noise in the camera. Looking at the frame counter, I noticed that the count was zero. The camera had no film! I carried no additional film in the car and it was probably 50 miles to a store where the film could be purchased. “Oh well,” I rationalized, “we take far too many photos anyway.” (After loading film the next day, I found that the battery was also dead.) Maybe our poor little Olympus camera had been overworked this past summer.
The road led for many miles across the Bar TT Ranch. It passed close to a log ranch house, barns and corrals. Cowboys on horseback herded cattle along the road – apparently moving the cattle out of their mountain, National Forest, summer grazing area onto irrigated, lower pastures where they could overwinter near haystacks and water. One cowboy appeared to be prepared for a role in a western movie. His dusty, black, ten-gallon hat, red bandana around the neck, leather chaps and cowboy boots made him appear authentic. His comrade wore a baseball cap, T-shirt, blue jeans and tennis shoes. “Which one is really authentic,” I wondered as we dodged cattle and fresh manure on the road.
We traveled slowly up the alternating gravel and dirt road, stopping to try to identify a hawk on a fence post. Convinced that it was a young Red-tailed hawk, we moved on up to Lemhi Pass (2,339') where information signs greeted us. We chose a .2 mile side road to the Sacajawea Memorial located at the headwaters of the Missouri River at Trail Creek. Lewis wrote of one of the members of his party: “... McNeal had exultingly stood with a foot on each side of this little rivulet and thanked his god that he had lived to bestride the mighty & heretofore deemed endless Missouri.” Then his group climbed up the .2 mile to the pass and obtained a view that was probably the most disappointing of his whole trip. Accustomed to the simple Appalachian Mountain Range, he was not prepared for the endless, snow-clad mountain ranges that greeted him. He had expected to see some evidence of a simple route down to the Columbia River. He knew now that he must hurry to pass through these mountain ranges before the Corps was caught up in a mountain winter.
At the small campground at the memorial and “headwaters”, Pat reported that kinglets and dark-eyed juncos were “everywhere.” We watched a Northern Harrier, a Red-tailed Hawk and a Kestrel hunt in the pass area. Then I remembered that two birds carry the names of the leaders of the expedition. Lewis described the Lewis Woodpecker and the Clark’s Nutcracker was named after Clark. It was a good spot to watch birds, but realizing that there were yet many miles to travel today, we moved on. The road continued across the Continental Divide and the border of Idaho, down a fairly steep descent into the Lemhi Valley. Across the Lemhi Valley, we could see the Lemhi Mountain Range where several peaks showed evidence of a recent snow above the 8000-foot level. The green, irrigated clover fields in the valley below contrasted against the brown and tan pastures on the lower hills, the dark green forests on the upper slopes and the rocks and snow of the peaks. We debated the virtues of an alternate route north along the ridges of the Beaverhead Mountains, where we thought we might obtain better views of the valleys and general landscape of the country. It was still early in the day, so we decided to take this alternative, but longer route down into the Lemhi Valley, on US Forest Road 185. A Lewis and Clark Expedition brochure published by the Idaho Travel Council explains that both routes are part of the Lewis and Clark Back Country Byway and Adventure Road which makes a 39-mile loop from the mountain tops to the Lemhi Valley. Neither route follows the exact route of Lewis and Clark. But the brochure contains numbers along the various routes, shown on their map of the area, that explain the location of plaques and signs depicting events as recorded in the Lewis and Clark Journals.
Pat and I followed road 185 through a logging area and met a logging truck who stirred up a large cloud of dust as it roared by. A sign beside the road explained that the Continental Divide National Scenic Trail, a foot-trail which extends from Mexico to Canada for 3,100 miles, can be accessed here. “Follow the dot over slash blazes on trees to the east,” explained the sign. Another sign read: “Personal Use Post and Pole.” I assumed this meant that anyone was free to cut posts or poles from the Lodgepole Pine forest. Characteristically, after a forest fire, Lodgepole Pines sprout in densities so great that they are “dog hair” thick and thus exhibit only stunted growth unless they are thinned. The Forest Service may be happy to see these forests thinned, so post and pole logging is allowed. Maybe free posts and poles partially explain why there are so many log fences bordering the pastures in the valleys.
As the road turned downhill, we encountered a couple of grouse-sized birds on the roadway. Apparently, they were young birds because they showed none of the identification characteristics that characterize grouse or ptarmigan species in our books. We gave up after deciding they looked more like Spruce Grouse than any other. Further down the mountainside, the forest gave way abruptly to an open grass and sage-covered mountainside. At a grand overview of the Lemhi Valley, we stopped to eat our sandwiches. Remembering that the Corps in this area were reduced to eating roots and any other food they could scrounge or shoot, I thought how they would have enjoyed one of the crisp, sweet, Gala apples we munched.
Plaques explained the location of the first showing of the US flag west of the Continental Divide. Another welcomes you to Sacajawea’s birthplace. Others explain camping sites, sources of firewood, Indian fishing sites, etc. It was in this area where Sacajawea and her brother, Chief Cameahwait had their joyful reunion and the Indians agreed to sell horses to the Corps. Clark found the transaction process for obtaining horses and other things very irritating and cumbersome. When the Indians were discussing the options among themselves, every person in the tribe who wished to contribute an idea was given the opportunity to express their views. Although Lewis and Clark often gave Corps members, including Sacajawea, a vote in decisions that they made, he thought the Indians took far too long to made their decisions. Clark described the Indians as follows: “...Those Indians are mild in their disposition appear Sincere in their friendship, puntial, and decided kind with what they have, to Spare ... The woman are held more Sacred ... and appear to have an equal Shere in all Conversation, ... their boys & Girls are also admitted to Speak except in Councils, the women do all the drudgery except fishing and taking care of the horses, which the men apr. to take upon themselves.”
Shortly after visiting an interpretive center which explained the features of the Country Byway, we hit Idaho Highway 28 and followed it into the town of Salmon. At the local visitor’s center and museum, I asked the volunteer “who gave the town its name.”
“Don’t know” came the reply.
“Do you think it might have been Lewis and Clark?” I asked.
“Don’t think so,” came the reply.
“The reason I ask is that I read that a Corps member, Sergeant Gass, shot a six-pound salmon near here,” I said. Upon receiving no reply, I realized that I was asking too much and dropped the subject.
Seeing a fishing access pull-off to the Salmon River, we parked under some large cottonwood trees beside the clear water in a deep canyon to enjoy our usual, after-lunch, power nap. The sun was shining and the temperature was near perfect. With a feeling of contentment, we quickly dropped off to sleep. In ten minutes, we woke refreshed and continued down along the Salmon River on Hwy. 93. At the community of North Fork, we could not resist the temptation to take a side-trip. Clark had traveled down-river to determine if it was possible for a canoe to negotiate the rapids. On the map, this area of the Salmon River is called the River of No Return because rafts can make it down-river but the current is too strong to travel up-river. Clark made a critical decision that the river was too hazardous. The Shoshoni Indians had never traveled down this river and recommended a route up the North Fork of the Salmon River. But Clark explored down-river anyway and found it necessary to swim his horse occasionally because the walls of the canyon were too steep to climb. We traveled 17 miles down the canyon to the point at which Clark made his critical decision -- at the town of Shoup. Shoup is called “one of Idaho’s best kept vacation secrets” by the Salmon Valley Chamber of Commerce Visitor’s Guide. The “town” is composed of a single grocery store -- this store also contains a restaurant and post office. A couple of cabins are available for rent. No electric lines run to Shoup, so they generate their own electricity with an antique, but functional Pelton water wheel powered by a small stream that flows down behind the store. Their claim to fame is their thick milkshakes and Shoup burgers. A couple from Lafayette, LA stopped by for milkshakes and explained that they were escaping the Louisiana heat and were looking for property in the area. I wondered if they had any idea of how cold the winters here can be. We can only imagine.
It may be that the decision Clark made not to take the Corps down the Salmon River was wrong. Yes, the river waters move rapidly, but I saw only a few boulders and little white-waters that Clark mentioned in his journals as justification for his decision. Certainly, it would have been risky, but maybe not as risky as the alternate route the Corps chose. A few days later they found themselves at Deep Creek – a steep-sided canyon filled with heavy timber. They were forced to “cut a road, over rocky & hilly slides where our horses were in peteal danger of slipping to their certain destruction & up & down steep hillsides, one horse crippled & 2 gave out.”
Now Hwy. 93 climbed steeply up this canyon to Lost Trail Pass. At the base of this climb, a yellow Toyota pickup passed us spewing blue smoke and some noxious fumes. I slowed to allow the fumes to dissipate to minimize its attack on our lungs. Rounding a bend in the road, this same pickup was parked on the white line in the center of the highway. A man was walking away and a woman had barricaded herself in the cab with windows rolled up and doors locked. Thinking that they might be having a mechanical problem, I stopped to see if we could be of assistance. The woman rolled down the window a little and screamed: “Call the cops, call the cops.” Having no idea where a pay phone could be found, Pat and I were a little dumbfounded. What to do? “Tell the cops that his name is Mike ....” she said.
Then Mike returned and explained, “she is drunk.” But the woman continued her frantic behavior as she denied being drunk. The man finally said “OK, here are the keys” and he slipped them through a crack in the window. The woman inserted the keys, cranked the engine, and left without another word. Now we wondered if we might find her dead body, reeking of alcohol, in a ditch up the road. We could only guess what “evil act” Mike had committed to trigger this confrontation. We were happy that it was settled so we did not have to search for a phone. With our imaginations running wild, we wondered if we might have played some role in saving this woman from bodily harm. We did not find her smashed body or wrecked pickup anywhere as we climbed to the pass. Yes, there are substitute soap operas even in beautiful Idaho.
At Lost Trail Pass we again crossed the Montana/Idaho border and turned east onto Hwy. 43. The Lewis and Clark Expedition continued their travels over this same pass but continued north down into the Bitterroot Valley before climbing up and over the Bitterroot Mountains at Lolo Pass. It was there that they nearly froze and starved to death in an early snow. They ultimately traveled down the Colombia River to the Pacific Ocean where they spent the winter. On their return to the Bitterroot Mountains the next spring, Lewis took some of the men on a shortcut to the Missouri River. Clark took the remainder of the men near the route followed by Hwy. 43 and on to the Yellowstone River. There is little written about Clark’s travels here and we found no roadside signs about this part of the trip. However, we stopped at one roadside sign that explained that beavers were being reintroduced to the Trail Creek area because they play an ecologically important role in slowing down the flow of streams and adding to the diversity of nature. However, beaver are still trapped and there is a demand for their pelts.
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| Anaconda Range |
As we headed down into the Big Hole Valley a light rain began to fall -- which may have been some sort of omen. We pulled into the Big Hole Battleground at 4:58 PM, parked in front of the visitor’s center and at the same time a Ranger emerged and turned over the “open” sign so that it read “closed.” We had not planned to spend much time at the battleground but were disappointed to miss the information and exhibits in the visitor’s center. Behind the center, at an overlook of the battle site, we punched a button and heard a recording explaining the salient features of the battle between Nez Perce Indians and US Army troops. “Just before dawn on the morning of August 9, 1877, 184 soldiers and volunteers under the command of Colonel John Gibbon attacked the sleeping Nez Perce camp, about 400 yards northeast of here. Although the military men expected to quickly subdue the surprised Nez Perce, they were instead forced out of the village under heavy fire and retreated to the forested bench just ahead of you. Casualties were high on both sides. Nez Perce snipers held the soldiers on this hillside for the remainder of August 9 and part of August 10, before departing to join their fleeing families.” Between 60 and 90 of the men, women, and children of the Nez Perce had been killed or wounded; the US Army lost 29 and 40 were wounded.
After soaking up a little of this history, Pat and I were feeling a little dead and wounded ourselves, so we continued to the town of Wisdom and turned south on Hwy. 278 toward Dillon and home. Passing through the Big Hole Valley, we observed lots of stacks of native hay. A sign along the highway claimed that this is “the valley 10,000 haystacks.” We saw tall, angled contraptions in the fields that we later determined were beaverslide hay stacking machines. Hay is pitched onto a large fork at the bottom of the slide. Then cables pull the loaded fork up the slide to the top of the machine where the hay is dumped on the peak of the stack. A worker on the stack spreads the hay as needed to form the stack The stacks are left uncovered, possibly because this is a semi-desert climate and there is usually not enough precipitation during the winter to cause moldy hay. We passed one property with the interesting name of Hairpin Ranch, then we dodged a long piece of barbed wire laying on the highway. Later we dodged a piece of firewood that must have fallen from a truck. Traveling over Big Hole Pass, we passed a couple of white crosses on the side of the road like maybe a couple of folks had died there. “Auto accident or freeze to death?” we wondered.
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| Beaverslide Haystacking Contraption |
Off to our left, over the mountains, a rainbow appeared.
Pat exclaimed, “Rainbows are bigger here.”
Then she said, “Maybe this really is the most beautiful state in the country.”
Often at the end of a long, hard day, we become irritable and argumentative.
This evening we were euphoric and there were no arguments.
As we descended the mountain to complete the loop to Dillon, we looked through the smog-free air at a vista in the direction of Yellowstone National Park and saw one tall mountain covered with snow.
The evening sun was shining directly on the snow so that it appeared extra bright against some dark clouds in the background.
Entering Dillon, we observed an Osprey bringing fish to its nest along Black-tailed Creek. On close inspection, the large stick nest on top an electric pole appeared to be held together with the colorful cords ranchers use to tie hay bales -- possibly some sort of evolutionary jump in Osprey nest-building technology? A second osprey flew low over our car making screeching noises. We got home about 6:45 PM and Pat said, “My body feels like it is still moving.” It had been a great day. We were very impressed with the scenery that we observed and the history that we experienced. We can easily recommend this loop to anyone with a day to spare and a tank full of gas.
