Montana - Sauntering Through This Holy Land

Walk away quietly in any direction and taste the freedom of the mountaineer. Camp out among the grasses and gentians of glacial meadows, in craggy garden nooks full of nature's darlings. Climb the mountains and get their good tidings, Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.  ---John Muir



Missouri River at Wolf Creek Bridge



Today is a "down" day, meaning I have no meetings scheduled. I should spend the day writing reports, as Claas has gently but firmly indicated that I am too far behind. But this is Montana . . . and the sky is blue . . .

I grab a cup of coffee and a blueberry scone at Helena’s Wheat Montana Bakery and head north of Helena on Hwy 15. I must take the interstate today, as it is the only way to get to where I want to be. My goal is to see if I can find my way into the Gates of the Mountains Wilderness and Wolf Creek Canyon. Morning has brought fog that burns off as I drive, and soon I am pleased to see blue sky - which portends a good day for photography! I am already seeing wildlife - there are pronghorn grazing in the fields beside the road! Pronghorn, a type of antelope, are the fastest land animal in North America, capable of reaching speeds of 60 mph. Their brown and white coat and short antlers are quite striking. Montana and Wyoming are the only places I’ve ever seen them. I smile at my first "sighting."



Gates of the Mountains

Though south of Helena the hillsides are sparsely treed, there are increasing stands of pines along this route. I note grimly, however, that in future years these hills will also be sparsely treed, as damage from the pine beetle is especially notable here, whole stands of dead trees. I wonder what it will look like when all the pines are gone, what trees will move in and take their place? As I exit the highway, I cross over a cattle guard, my clue that I am now in free range cattle country. I turn east - and am amazed at what I see! My mouth opens and I utter my first, "Oh, wow!" of the trip. Just up the road is a body of water at the base of towering cliffs backed by taller mountains. I have found Gates of the Mountains! Another area steeped in history, this spot was named by Meriwether Lewis in 1805. The body of water is the Missouri River, and though it looks like the river must reach its terminus at these limestone walls, as Lewis learned the river cuts its way through the rock and into the mountains, through these gates. Awesome, really awesome this view!
 

Hilger Hereford Ranch

There is no way into the wilderness area at this point other than by boat, no roads, no trails. I contemplate taking the two hour boat tour, but I am not willing to be cooped up with 40 people and no means of escape. I wander a bit and learn the history of the area itself, that the land in this area has been owned by two families, the Siebens and the Hilgers, since the 1860's. In fact, the land surrounding the entrance to Gates of the Mountains is the Hilger Hereford Ranch. I explore accessible areas of the farm with my camera then head north again, where I discover the Sieben Ranch on the west side of the highway. I exit and take more photographs - of the weathered wooden ranch buildings and stacked rolls of hay against the morning sun. Then I head north again.

Sieben Ranch

North takes me through Wolf Creek Canyon. The road winds and climbs to an elevation of around 2,600 feet, through what is to me, "in your face geology." Striations of green, yellow, and red rock slant at crazy angles, the rock so "crumbly" in places that it looks like entire hillsides could collapse at any moment. I want to know what is this rock, what are the different colored ones. I don’t know. I am frustrated. There is so much to know! Soon the canyon opens to rolling hills, and I am gratified to discover an exit to a road that parallels the interstate.





Sieben Ranch

I stop in the wee little town of Wolf Creek - no stop sign even in this one - just some tiny restaurants, a gas station/grocery store/all-purpose store, and a small outfitter shop. I chuckle at a sign on the wall of the store: Vegetarian - an old western word for lousy hunter. Though I chuckle, the sign signals an old debate I have with myself. I think I should not be eating animals. I think I should be a vegetarian. I struggle mightily with this one. I cringed when I entered my hotel last evening, as there were multiple heads on the walls . . . these of fairly small mountain goats. I wonder why they were killed, for meat or simply to hang their heads on this wall . . . If for the latter, shame on us. I look at the animals and wonder if we - if I - should be eating them. . . I have not resolved this one. . . . And I know I will not resolve it - neither will I discuss it with anyone - while I am in Montana!
  

Missouri River at Wolf Creek

Shortly up the road I cross over the Missouri, which has by now navigated the mountains and exited into this rolling ranchland. The Missouri is looking magnificent today, wide and blue! I head east, back into the mountains, paralleling the river. I stop to photograph the gorgeous view, as well as the handful of fly fishermen on the banks or in the water, also enjoying this glorious day. The water is moving swiftly and the mountains reflect gold in the water. It is 65 degrees and a slight wind is blowing. I have figured out that the sweet smell of yesterday - which is stronger today - is sage, which dots the hillsides along with pine and fir. All senses are active at once. They thread to my heart, which sings with delight!

Mule Deer at Holter Lake

The road takes me into Holter Lake National Recreation Area. Holter Lake is actually another reservoir created by the damming of the Missouri by Holter Dam. I wonder about the damming of rivers, wonder if we are damning them, as I think of what I learned last month about the Colorado. There are 29 dams and other diversion projects on the Colorado. By the time that river reaches Mexico it is nothing but a trickle. I wish I understood the issues better. I know the need for water is great in many parts of the country. But I know there is also a lot of waste - mine included. I wonder what I would be if I had another lifetime to decide my profession. I think ecologist, conservationist, perhaps national park ranger. . .

Everything is flowing -- going somewhere, animals and so-called lifeless rocks as well as water. Thus the snow flows fast or slow in grand beauty-making glaciers and avalanches; the air in majestic floods carrying minerals, plant leaves, seeds, spores, with streams of music and fragrance; water streams carrying rocks . . . While the stars go streaming through space pulsed on and on forever like blood...in Nature's warm heart. --- John Muir



Holter Lake - Big Belt Mountains

The lake and surrounding Big Belt Mountains are gorgeous. I head further into the park and am thrilled when the road turns to gravel. This to me signifies fewer buildings and fewer people. I have my second wildlife encounter as I startle two groups of mule deer grazing just ten feet from the road. I stop and take their photograph, talking softly to them. I travel on, though I am beginning to become concerned about the condition of road. I am in a car, not a truck or SUV, and am beginning to think I will not be able to travel much further. On a different day I might be braver, but I do not know this area, and it is becoming more isolated. I am torn. I want to continue, to see what is around the bend, to explore, but I don’t think it is wise. Instead I stop at what appears to be the back side of the lake, not far from the spot where the river enters, and I explore a bit. The bed of the lake appears be made of fine black gravel. I wander a trail that climbs a bit above the lake, through grassy, treeless terrain. I chuckle thinking of some words uttered by John Muir, about the concept of hiking:

Hiking - I don't like either the word or the thing. People ought to saunter in the mountains - not hike! Do you know the origin of that word 'saunter?' It's a beautiful word. Away back in the Middle Ages people used to go on pilgrimages to the Holy Land, and when people in the villages through which they passed asked where they were going, they would reply, ‘A la sainte terre,’ 'To the Holy Land. And so they became known as sainte-terre-ers or saunterers. Now these mountains are our Holy Land, and we ought to saunter through them reverently, not 'hike' through them. —John Muir



So I saunter for a while. Then I sit for a while. Then I just be for a while. It is good.

It is now early afternoon and my destination is south of Helena, so I know it is time to turn back. Which is okay because I am sated at this point. It has been a good day. There will be more. Yes, there will be more.

Donna

© September 15, 2010



Sieben Ranch





Holter Lake - Big Belt Mountains