Playing in Polson

Fletcher Webster Brown, III, as Jay always calls him, is a Coast Guard, flying days friend of Jay’s.  They also served at Coast Guard headquarters together in the early 1980s and from then until the travelers’ visit in August, 2011 they had gotten together only one other time.  Fletcher moved to Montana in the mid-1990s and built a beautiful, two-story log home on a five-acre plot overlooking the town of Polson.  To the north is the Flathead Lake, to the east, the 9,000 foot high Mission Mountain Range and the rolling, grass covered terrain to the south and west belong to the Flathead Indian Reservation.   When the house was built, Fletcher conveniently created a circular driveway complete with an adjacent, large square parking space for his ATVs and other toys and was a perfect place for Chris and Jay to park Sonny for their week-long stay.

Yan Can Cook is the name of an Asian cooking show that used to air on PBS but the name certainly applied to the culinary skills of Fletcher’s wife, Yan.  The afternoon of the visitors’ arrival she created a lunch of three different vegetable stir-fries served over bowls of rice.  It was all so yummy that Chris and Jay waddled from the table regretting the volume they’d consumed but still craving more of the delicious flavors.  It was a heavy mid-day meal compared to the lightness of their daily fruit smoothie lunches.  The remainder of the week was filled with more tasty experiences and Chris hung out in the kitchen more than once to observe and learn.

Fletcher wasted no time in exposing his guests to the outdoor pleasures of his Montana lifestyle.  The next day everyone piled into his truck and, raft in tow, headed north toward Glacier National Park and a rocky put-in location to launch the vessel on a fork of the Flathead River. 

Yan (left) and Jay (center) stand by while Fletcher prepares the raft for launch.

The day was brilliantly cloudless, windless and warm which compensated for the frigidly cold glacial water.    A brief stop, so Fletcher could give his fly rod a workout, enabled Chris and Jay to step out of the raft and experience exactly how cold the water was.  Smooth, rounded rocks from small pebbles to the size of a man’s hand lined the shallow cove and seldom could the travelers resist seeking out especially unique and beautiful stones to add to their growing collection.  But Chris’ toes could only tolerate the icy liquid a few moments before they numbed and needed thawing from the warmth of the bright orb above.  After a few freeze/thaw cycles, an assortment of rocks was collected, judged worthy or not and retained or discarded, by the time Fletch tired of casting, and they shoved off to complete their lazy, tranquil float.

 

It just doesn’t get much better than this.

In some sections of the river the water was a luminescent aqua green and different than any color, except the waters of the Caribbean Sea, Jay or Chris had ever seen.   They learned that the water contains tiny bits of rock and minerals called “rock flour” which is created by the grinding action of glaciers and suspended in the melted water that cascades into the rivers below.  The rock particles refract the green spectrum of the sun’s light so it appears green.   The glacial action on the surrounding mountains was different than traditional snow melt on other peaks which did not produce the same colorful water.

The beautiful, green glacial water.

 

A few days later Fletcher introduced his guests to ATVing.  He had two of the machines and took everyone to the golden hills of the Reservation on the west side of the Lake where seldom used, dirt, back roads laced across the massive mounds covered in late summer’s grassy harvest. 

The rolling foothills of the Salish Mountains.

 

As a change from hiking, Jay and Chris had a good time on the noisy machines as they bumped along the deserted roads far enough behind Fletcher and Yan to not eat their dust.  They tooled into a wooded hollow, where a road ended, stopped for a quick snack and some target practice.  Unlike the PC/gun fearing Eastern States, from which Chris and Jay came, Montana is very firearm friendly and practicing ones skills in remote locations is common place.   They took turns aiming at the exposed roots of a fallen tree and cheered when a piece broke away.

Chris practicing her firearm skills.

Chris told her host about a low fuel light on her machine and Fletcher realized he should have given the gas tank more than a cursory glance when he topped his up at the gas station in Polson.  They headed back the way they came and, when the gauge dropped below a comfortable level, decided to stop and try to siphon some gas from one machine to the other.   They sacrificed the hose from Chris’ Camelbak and Fletcher’s quart-sized water bottle to complete the task and carried on with almost equal amounts of fuel in each ATV.

Fletcher and Yan.

Up and down more mounds and through chest-high purple and yellow blossoms they determined a wrong turn had been made and backtracking was in order.   Doubling back to the siphoning spot and beyond they found the turn they’d missed then putted through familiar surroundings to the truck and home to another sumptuous meal.

No visit to a Montana resident would be complete without a mountain hike.  Fletcher took everyone, including his two dogs, Zena and Gunner, on a short hike that led to another idyllic mountain lake that, to Jay’s relief, was practically mosquito free thanks to the thousands of huge dragonflies who called the  area home.  The lake fed a stream whose sparkling waters cascaded over and around moss covered rocks littering the route as the water plunged past ancient cedars and delicate woodland flowers to the valley floor.   

Jay and Chris at another beautiful mountain lake.

Precious, streamside, woodland flowers.

The Flathead Indian Reservation is home to the National Bison Range and, with an ample amount of the afternoon remaining, they decided it was worth a visit.  About four hundred bison wander the 29 square miles of rolling hills they call home. 

An antler mound near the Visitor Center.

Visitors primarily view them via the one-way, nineteen mile long Red Sleep Mountain Drive which zigzags up a central mountain and skirts the north side of the Refuge.  Although the landscape was beautiful, it wasn’t until the last couple of miles that they spied the herd.  Small groups of the magnificent beasts clustered together along the banks of the lone river that traversed the northern boundary of the Range and, to the motorists, most were too far away and appeared to be large, brown lumps contrasting against golden grasses. 

One lone bison near the river’s edge.

Chris and Jay had seen their share of the beasts at Yellowstone so, the distance and lack of expected numbers of bison didn’t bother them.  But, the day was not lost of them as they truly enjoyed the drive, viewing the other wildlife on the Range and the fantastic vistas of the valley and mountains which surrounded them. 

A view of the Range from Red Sleep Mountain Drive.

The Fletcher Brown RV Park was, at the sum of $1 per week, one of the least expensive his guests had encountered.  But they figured with low pressure, gravity fed water and the 20 amp house socket, that couldn’t power the RV’s microwave, hindering some of their daily luxuries, it was appropriately priced.  Besides, they were well fed, given free outdoor entertainment and twice treated to massive scoops of delectable ice cream at the local parlor.  All-in-all it was one of the best deals and most enjoyable visits with friends so far!

The Fletcher Brown RV Park.  He owns an Airstream trailer.

At the end of their fun-filled week Glacier National Park beckoned.  Jay paid his dollar and with hugs and fond farewells, they headed up the east side of Flathead Lake to the northernmost destination of their summer.

The Nation’s First Park

In January 2011, Chris & Jay decided to stay at Yellowstone National Park for three full weeks, allowing enough time for Chris to adequately photograph the plethora of gorgeous features it offered.  She was able to secure a three week reservation in July, at a campground inside the Park, which she thought was ideal since they wouldn’t have to waste fuel driving in and out each day.  With Yellowstone’s reservations made all others, for the summer, were scheduled before and after their time there.  The Camp Hosting commitment at Bryce Canyon ate into the first week of their reservation but they felt that two weeks was probably enough time to see and photograph most of the Park.  It was not to be.

The Park has 310 miles of paved roads in a figure eight formation.  Speed limits range from 25-45 mph and “bear jams“ frequently occur where droves of visitors park anywhere they can find along the narrow, two lane roads to view not only bear but bison, elk, and scores of other wildlife.  They sometimes block the through lanes and slow or stop moving traffic. 

The stopped vehicles were not the only things slowing traffic.  The bison in Yellowstone are as revered as cows in India and frequently amble down the middle of roads or cross individually and in herds – further slowing traffic.  They can even be found resting on the porch of the Park Headquarters building.

This lone bison, still shedding his winter coat,

 lived near the RV Park where Chris and Jay stayed.

Mid-day sun is usually the worst light in which to take stunning photographs.  Since neither Chris or Jay are early risers, they would usually head out in the early afternoon, find a location to photograph and wait for good light.  The size of the Park is overwhelming and Chris found it difficult to decide on where to go since, with few exceptions, she didn’t know what she would find there, in which direction the site might face for the best light and invariably there were many other places to visit along the way on which the mid-afternoon sun was usually illuminating at an unappealing angle.  She’d take snapshots, make a note as to the best time of day to return and move on in hopes of capturing something more appealing. 

Mountains on the east side of Yellowstone Lake.

They decided to take advantage of the poor light to investigate the camp host opportunities of which there were many.  Over the course of two weeks they visited several campgrounds and learned of three vacant camp host positions but could not penetrate the bureaucratic morass to find out what duties the positions entailed, if they were to be filled that season and what type of site and RV hookups would be available at the host sites. 

A cell signal for phone and internet connection was imperative since the campground where they were staying was void of such a basic necessity to their lifestyle.  During their stay, Chris and Jay had to stop at roadside pull offs to make phone calls and check their e-mail while they traveled around the Park.  One camp host-less campground had a killer cell signal but didn’t appear to have any electrical or water hookups and the ground pit covered by a large plastic lid displaying “SEWER” was not the kind of connection they understood.  Another campground had full hookups but absolutely no cell signal.  The third had everything – hookups, cell signal, close to a Park entrance where they could go to a nearby town for gas and other shopping needs – and one of the three camp host couples had left that day due to a family emergency and wouldn’t be returning.  But the Ranger in charge was either too overworked or didn’t care enough to accept friends of another host to fill the position and Chris and Jay were told he wasn’t receptive to people “dropping in” on him.

During the first week, the would be volunteers spent at least three days locating campgrounds, talking to existing camp hosts, about the duties, the hours they worked and who to contact to apply for the position and got absolutely nowhere.  They were stunned and frustrated at the situation.  It seemed that having willing people on site was not incentive enough to spur the staff into taking action.  After hours of their valuable time and gallons of fuel, Chris and Jay finally decided to give up and on their way out of the Park submitted their applications for the 2012 season.

The infamous Yellowstone Falls.

They turned their attention to seeing the Park and, until an afternoon storm rained them out and ruined the light, spent an entire morning photographing the upper and lower Yellowstone Falls from a variety of vantage points.  Another afternoon they headed for Old Faithful and stayed through three, ninety-minute spaced eruptions to capture the geyser’s brief displays in different light.  Chris wanted to duplicate a stunning image she’d seen on a postcard that showed the erupting geyser next to the setting sun shining through the silhouette of a tree.  She found the tree and with camera on tripod, adjusted the position to keep the setting sun in just the right place between the tree’s branches while she patiently waited for Old Faithful to erupt.   The mound before her showed more and more steam activity and she quietly urged it to “blow” sooner rather than later, but the sun dropped below the distant hills and no more than five minutes later, Old Faithful spurted her last show before night’s black veil descended on the area.

The Old Faithful complex with the famous Lodge to the right,
Old Faithful steaming to the left

and the Visitor Center above it. 

The hours sitting in the truck took its toll on their spirits and derrieres and by the second week Chris and Jay  longed for a day hike where they could get into some natural surroundings and truly experience the beauty of the Park from someplace other than a paved overlook.  They decided to start out with a short, flat terrain hike to a natural bridge.  A Ranger had advised them to carry bear spray and have it readily accessible any time one veered away from the popular paved areas.  Chris and Jay considered the fact that several weeks before a man had been killed by a Mama Grizzly protecting her cubs, and discussed how valuable their own lives were.  They decided they were worth more than the $50 canister of bear strength pepper spray and with it strapped to Jay’s chest, set out for the bridge.  But families with small children that frequented the trail kept up such a constant chatter that they wondered why they’d bothered.

The Natural Bridge

The late spring and excessive snows of the previous winter endowed the area with more moisture than usual.  Beautiful Indian Paintbrush and other wildflowers bloomed along the trail but after pausing for more than a minute the hikers became magnets for the monstrous mosquitoes that hungered for their blood.  The hovering masses seemed to be attracted to DEET laced repellant as if it was pheromone spray.  As much as Chris wanted to photograph the beautiful blossoms, neither she nor Jay could tolerate the barrage and only a brisk pace kept the voracious predators at bay.

Spectacular views of distant mountain ranges they’d seen while driving through Dunraven Pass compelled the hikers to take the trek up Mount Washburn, one of the tallest peaks in the Park.  Thirteen hundred eighty-four vertical feet separated the trailhead from the 10,243 foot summit but the trail was wide with a gradual ascent allowing Chris and Jay to keep up a steady pace despite the weight of camera equipment.  The path was fairly heavily travelled with tourists sporting all manner of footwear from flip flops, to sneakers to sturdy hiking boots.  Some stopped and told them of a herd of Bighorn Sheep they’d spied and others spoke of a bear they’d seen the day before giving the bear spray toting couple a warm, fuzzy feeling that they had the deterrent with them.

This female Bighorn Sheep was less than 10 feet from Chris and Jay

 as they hiked up the mountain.

Despite frequent stops for Chris to photograph, they tired at the 10,000 foot mark due to lack of oxygen, but a man-made structure at the top beckoned them forward and they persisted.  The reward was worth it.  The structure contained a large, south-facing room with tall, glass windows on three sides revealing an unobstructed view of the Absaroka Mountain Range in the east, the Tetons to the south and the Gallatin Range to the west.  With the exception of the Tetons, all that was visible was within the fifty-mile wide Yellowstone Park boundaries – a truly remarkable experience.  Chris peered through a large telescope in the corner of the room and laughed when she sighted a bear jam in Hayden Valley, an area they passed through almost daily, and frequently had road blocks due to the number of wildlife gawking visitors.

The goal.  The building at the summit with snow still present in July.

Jay befriended Ben, an American man and two, young, Belgian women, Caroline and Hanna, who were traveling the Park together and had hiked to the top via another trail on the opposite side of the mountain.  Caroline was wearing a short sundress which was completely inappropriate attire to keep her warm during their descent as the sun would set before they reached their vehicle and the whipping winds at the summit further chilled the air.  Chris loaned her a shirt to help warm her and they decided to all hike to Ben’s car and he would drive the shirt donors to their truck at the other trailhead.  Along the way they passed another herd of Bighorn sheep complete with resident male, a marmot who sounded a loud warning chirp and, fortunately, no bears despite Caroline’s desire to see one before she left the Park.

It was an interesting ride back to the truck with five of them piled into a tiny Honda Civic whose trunk was completely packed full of their camping equipment and personal items and a back seat partially filled with more personal items and hiking gear from the day’s outing.  Caroline sat on Hanna’s lap in the back seat with Chris while Ben and Jay commandeered the two in front.  Contact information was exchanged and Chris and Jay chalked up Belgium as another country from which they had met U. S. travelers.

On the way out of the North entrance to the Park the next day, the Montana bound couple stopped at the Park offices and dropped off their volunteer applications for a 2012 camp host position.  They were fortunate to catch the Volunteer Coordinator in the building and had a more positive conversation than previously.  She at least seemed receptive to them dropping off an application.  They left the area ready to move on and explore the next State and possibly find the ideal home or property, complete with snow-capped, mountain view that would draw them away from lands east.