Water Rock

Pahrump is the English bastardization of the Shoshone Pah-Rimpi which means Water Rock.  The area is blessed with abundant artesian wells which made it a paradise for Indian settlement but also for the subsequent invasion of white men and women who established large ranches on which they grew alfalfa and cotton or raised livestock.  Today it is a thriving community of over 25,000 people complete with retail strip malls and casinos. 

Escapees is an RV club which provides discounts at hundreds of RV Parks across the country.  They also own a number of Parks where members can stay at greatly discounted rates and which are also open to non-members.  The Pair-a-Dice RV Park  in Pahrump is a co-op which meant that members owned the site lots and had either an RV or Park trailer (similar to a mobile home but smaller) on them, and most members lived there fulltime.  Escapee owned parks also have lots of amenities like a large building for group dining events, fully stocked craft rooms, libraries, game rooms and other features depending on the size of the community building.  Without fail, the Escapee members are some of the friendliest people Jay and Chris meet in their travels and the residents at Pair-a-Dice were the most cordial and cooperative so far.  Of course, Chris’ herb garden never fails to attract numerous curious inquiries and becomes the ice breaker for many introductions.

Red and Sonny at the Pair-a-Dice RV Park with Mount St. Charles in the background.

Jay pulled Sonny into the Park in mid-February 2012, and the new arrivals made themselves right at home participating in some of the daily, planned events and making new friends almost every day.  Chris took advantage of the spacious craft room, complete with three sewing machines, and made some long needed repairs to clothing.  She’d also been contemplating making some form of protection for her herbs and used the self-healing cutting mats and long, spacious work tables to make mini greenhouses for each pot that made them look like baby Conestoga wagons.  She even decided that she needed a hobby to get her away from the hours she normally spent sitting at the computer and decided to give crocheting a try.  The assortment of crochet hooks, scrap balls of yarn and books with instructions at her disposal, along with guidance from ladies who frequented the room for other crafts, gave her a good start on a practice square of simple hooking techniques.  With a new grandson on the way she thought the craft might come in handy for some baby items.

Jay spent most of his time working on Sonny.  The constant winds and dust of the desert southwest wreak havoc on the finishes of resident vehicles.  Over time, Big Red and Sonny took on a beige tone rather than bright red and white and Jay can tolerate the film for just a short while before he drops all other projects and moves the task of cleaning the truck and “the house” to the top of the list.  He even made time to read a couple of books that he’d had from the year before – a very rare pleasure on his part.

The McKays live on the other side of town and the two couples got together for some day-trips and mini reunions.  John and Linda gave them the grand tour of Pahrump, complete with the newly constructed Federal  prison that was supposed to bring many construction jobs to the area but didn’t because it was completely created from modular sections built in a far away location.  Pahrump is also home to an elite, private car club, which included pricey garage condos and its own road racing track.  It was something Jay and Chris would never have thought existed in such a remote location.  Another surprise was The Chicken Ranch.  For those familiar with Texas history and movies of the 80s, you may know about The Chicken Ranch from the movie The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.  When prostitution was outlawed in Texas, The Chicken Ranch moved to Nevada where the oldest profession is legal.   Visitors as well as patrons are welcome and you can even buy a tee shirt.  Chris just took pictures of the building and the sign.

Another day’s excursion was to the small towns of Beatty and Rhyolite and Death ValleyNational Park.  The entire area was originally settled because of the rich mineral, gold and silver deposits. A small museum in Beatty featured artifacts from the boom time but also much more including antiquities from the railroad system that developed into a bull-frog like pattern to access the mines, scales for measuring silver and gold dust, household items such as a collection of beautifully preserved straight razors, clothing and even a copper still. 

Chris and Jay were particularly intrigued by a display of nuclear explosion photos, Geiger counters and a radiation suit.  John explained that the infamous Area 51 nuclear test site was just a few miles east of Beatty and how the radioactive fallout adversely affected the health and livelihoods of the residents living not that far to the east.  Many grew ill from cancers and other diseases uncommon in the area at the time and herds of  grazing livestock died bearing unusual blisters and sores on their hides.

Area 51 Nuclear Test photos and equipment.

Because of the boom and bust nature of precious metal towns, Nevada has its share of western ghost towns, one of which is Rhyolite just a few miles outside of Beatty.   With a population ranging between 3,500 and 5,000 residents in its 1907-1908 heyday, it boasted electric lights, water mains, telephones, newspapers, a hospital, schools and even an opera house and stock exchange.  When the ore quantities steadily declined, the town's population followed suit until it was practically zero by 1920.  All that remains today are hollow shells of some of the more prominently constructed masonry buildings, their glassless windows overlooking the brown, high desert plains beyond.

The ghost town of Rhyolite.

Chris and Jay had spent a day at Death Valley National Park a couple of weeks before, but the McKays took them through a section via the north entrance they had not yet visited and also stopped at the museum which contained a varied assortment of relics from the Valley's colorful past. 

Death Valley's main claim to fame is the legendary twenty mule team wagons that, during the 1880s, hauled Borax from deep within the surrounding mountains, across 165 miles of the Mojave Desert to the nearest railroad spur in Mojave, CA.  Jay and Chris both remembered seeing the TV advertisements for Twenty Mule Team Borax in the 50s and 60s. 

The borax ore wagons were16 feet long by 6 feet deep, constructed of solid oak, weighed 7,800 pounds and carried almost 10 tons of borax ore.  They were among the largest ever pulled by draft animals. The ore wagons were the first of three devices the twenty mules hauled.  Hitched to  them was a second wagon which carried food and supplies for the long journey and bringing up the rear was a 1,200 gallon water tank providing water for the teamsters and mules.  When fully loaded, the total weight of the mule train was 73,200 pounds (36.6 tons) and stretched over 180 feet long.

These wagons are much more massive than they appear here in this photograph.  The rear wheels are 7 feet in diameter and the wagon beds are 16 feet long and 6 feet deep.

An interesting origin of a common saying began with the mule teams hauling the freight wearing bells and empty returning teams wearing none.  If a teamster became stuck or broke down and was assisted by another to get going again, he was obliged to give the assisting teamster his bells.  Thus the saying "I'll be there with bells on" was born, meaning I will make my own way without help from anyone. 

Photographing was the main objective of the travelers' previous visit to Death Valley and they were amazed at the diversity of landscape features in just one area, vast though it may be.  The valley stretches 110 miles  across the easternmost  border of southern California.  The northern section harbors 150 foot tall sand dunes and Racetrack Playa is home to mysterious sliding boulders weighing up to 700 pounds, that in wet times, slide across the mud flats leaving furrows which dry solid in contrast to the cracked tile-like patterns of the surrounding, sun-baked soil.  The central area of the Park holds barren, golden slopes sculpted by eons of wind and rain at Zabriskie Point that halt abruptly at the smooth, level, valley floor which gently slopes southeast to the brilliant, white, salt caked flats 282 feet below sea level. Unfortunately the one day Chris and Jay visited the Park did not allow enough time to explore the region fully and an extended stay was in their future to experience the diverse grandeur of flora, fauna and geology of the area.

The Badwater salt flats in Death Valley National Park.

Another flight crewman from the Cape May days, Rick Klinnert, and his wife Carol, paid an unexpected visit to the McKay's prompting a mini reunion.  One of Jay's great joys is reuniting with old friends that he has not seen in thirty-five years and in no time the sexes had splintered off; the boys telling sea stories and the girls sharing their wisdom on health, cooking and crafts.  Before the day was done, Rick had pulled out his machine gun that shot plastic BBs and after the guys had their fun with it, Jay coaxed Chris to give it a try.  Rick and John were surprisingly impressed with her natural killer instinct of a mama Grizzly and accuracy with the small varmint deterrent.

In July of 2011, Chris and Jay received a phone call that they were to become grandparents of a baby boy due in March of 2012.  How quickly the gestation period flew by and Peter Michael Paxton was born on March 13th  to Chris' son, Kevin and his wife Sarah.  Pete's due date had been the 20th and Chris had reservations on the 25th to fly home for a couple of weeks and help out the new parents after they'd had a chance to settle into their new routine.

Peter Michael Paxton at age three weeks.

Jay took the time to finish up the myriad  diverse projects that continuously loomed before him and Chris' days were filled with relieving Sarah of all household duties so that she could focus on the new, most important addition to her life.

On April 11th Jay was preparing to move Sonny back to Las Vegas when he spied movement on the ground out of the corner of his eye.  Further investigation revealed a small, Glassy snake hanging out in the shade of the RV.  The reptile lover that he is compelled Jay to take possession of the critter.  He scarfed him up, and headed back to get settled at the Nellis AFB RV Park in time to pick up Chris from the airport.  She was not as thrilled with the new pet as he but knew that she could tolerate the creature for his sake. 

The plan was to resupply the next day then drive to Bryce Canyon to begin their camp host duties on Friday the 13th.  However Mother Nature stepped in with a surprise snowstorm at Bryce, delaying their departure until the following Monday.  As always, everything happens for a reason and the down time enabled them to visit with some old and new friends at Nellis AFB and acquire some necessities they would not have otherwise thought of.

Expecting to see not only snow-covered peaks but also plains and possibly white patches of asphalt, they were somewhat pleasantly surprised that all that was covered were the peaks.  One doesn't want to be confronted with navigating over slippery, mountain roads whilst towing 16,000 lbs of trailer containing all of their essential possessions!!  They arrived at Bryce Canyon National Park without incident and celebrated by sharing a bottle of wine with their supervisor, and friend, from the year before, Kevin Evans and his wife, Cheryl.

Healthy But Not So Happy

Surrounded by snow capped mountains and having woken up to multiple accumulations of white fluff in less than two weeks was enough for Chris and Jay to decide to make tracks south.  They had stopped in Salt Lake City, Utah for Jay to fly to Mobile, AL for the annual Pterodactyl gathering,  which took place from November 9th through the 13th, and had planned to stay a bit longer to further explore the area, but the Arctic blasts, left them a bit "cold" and they were pining for a toastier terrain.  Plus the holidays were approaching and Chris had flight reservations in Las Vegas for a return home at Thanksgiving.  Two good reasons for them to get to lower latitudes and altitudes – and quickly.   Fortunately it took only a day’s drive and on November 14, 2011 they arrived in Sin City and set up Sonny in the RV Park at Nellis Air Force Base.  Within the week the Snowbirds had decided it would be a good place to spend the winter without traveling further south, only to head back north for their spring adventures.

Leaving Hill AFB in Salt Lake City for toastier temps!

It had been about a year since they had left Maryland and it was time for Chris to return home and visit with family and friends.  Her daughter Jessica was able to get leave over the Thanksgiving weekend and Chris decided that would be the best time to go home for a ten day stay.  The time passed quickly as she scheduled visits with friends and family and attended not one, but two, huge Thanksgiving dinners – one at her brother’s house and one at her son’s. 

Even Las Vegas airport has slot machines in the terminals.

Jay spent his high school years in Greenville, Ohio, a small farming town about an hour north of Dayton.  There his father managed the State Theater, one of two movie theatres in the town and where Jay met and worked with Bob Oda who was a few years older than he.  Over the years they had lost touch with each other but connected again in the early 2000s.  Bob and his wife Ann had settled in Las Vegas to spend their retirement years, and visits with them included enjoyable dinners, and movies at the local theatre where Bob kept his hand in the business one day a week. 

After Bob left the State Theatre he worked in public relations for United Artists and toured the country planning and presenting events to promote movies and their famous stars.  Of all the movie stars he hobnobbed with, Robert Mitchum was his favorite. Where he currently worked, Bob ran the projectors for the 14 movies the theatre presented daily.  Huge, black boxes, the size of Mini-Cooper automobiles  housed the digitized projectors which were capable of showing both standard and 3-D movies.   Compared to the film projectors of the 1950s that he operated, Jay was amazed at the changes in technology of today’s theatres. 

Nellis AFB is the Top Gun of the Air Force and home of the Thunderbirds, the second best air demonstration team in the world

(next to the Blue Angels of the Navy, of course).

For many years both Chris and Jay have read a variety of health related newsletters and books, written by various doctors, to learn how to keep themselves in optimal health.  In casual conversations, they discovered that many people don’t know the information they have learned.  They discussed creating a series of health related seminars to share the information with other interested parties at the RV Parks where they stopped, but time constraints never allowed them to compile the information into a presentable format.  Spending the entire winter in one location would enable them to finally tackle the project and possibly begin with presenting them at the Nellis AFB RV Park.

A query of the Park management and they had the okay to proceed.  Little did they know that each seminar would consume a full week of their time to gather the information and compile it into lesson plans.  But once they began they felt committed to see it through as they had a core group of very dedicated participants who looked forward to receiving the information each week.

They met in the RV Park’s office area which was equipped with tables, chairs and a huge, flat screen TV on which they could show health related documentary movies they had found to be very informative.  Because of the office’s evening time restrictions the movies and seminars needed to be on different nights but this small detail did not hinder the level of participation or cause any inconvenience.

Unfortunately there is a rotten egg in every barrel and one Camp Host took a disliking to not only Jay and Chris but to the information they were presenting.  Completely baffled by the hostilities cast their way, they began to avoid Clyde like the plague.  But like all  pestilences he continued to spread his hatred and discontent, toward them presenting the seminars, to his co-hosts and management.

John McKay, who had served as a flight crew member with Jay in Cape May, NJ and his wife, Linda Morse, had stayed at and worked with Clyde at the RV Park some years before.  They had subsequently moved to a home in Pahrump, NV about an hour west of Las Vegas but stopped by to visit one day and  revealed the reason for Clyde’s discontent.  It seems that his wife sold New Skin.  Chris and Jay use Melaleuca  products but knew they could not use any RV Park facility to promote sales of any kind and they did not mention the company or any products they used in their seminars.  Despite this commitment on their part, Clyde thought that the seminars were a marketing venue to sell Melaleuca, eventually using his influence with the management and squeezing out Jay and Chris' ability to use the Park office, forcing them to move to a faithful participants’ spacious RV.  All-in-all, the change was a minor inconvenience and blessing in disguise since they could then introduce their loyal followers to the benefits of Melaleuca products:  Two of whom started their own Melaleuca businesses.

The whole experience with Clyde left a bad taste in the presenters' mouths.  Fortunately  they had heard about other, less expensive RV parks in Pahrump.  Half a day on the computer investigating prices and other features and Chris discovered an Escapees Co-op RV Park that was less than half of the monthly fee at Nellis.  It didn’t take long for them to decide to head west for the remaining two months of their winter before going back to Bryce Canyon National Park for a spring commitment of camp hosting. They pulled out of Nellis and headed further west on February 15th.

Glacial Majesty

Glaciar National Park was like the icing on the cake to Chris and Jay’s summer travels.  Others, who had been to the Park, told them it was one of the most beautiful places in the country.  They were right.  The combination of two, pristine, mountain lakes separated by Continental Divide peaks, carved through the millennia by glacial forces, offered vistas unparalleled in their travels thus far.

Located in the northwest corner of Montana, near the Canadian border, it is part of the northernmost Rocky Mountain Range in the U.S. and encompasses over 1 million acres and over 130 named lakes.  St Mary and McDonald Lakes are the two largest and rest at opposite sides of the Park providing majestic views from all angles.   The tallest peaks have flat faces on multiple sides creating the classic glacial horn appearance similar to the famous Matterhorn in the Swiss/Italian Alps. 

Clements Mountain (left) was shaped by glaciers

and is part of the Continental Divide at Logan Pass.

The Going to the Sun Road bisects the Park and runs east to west across Logan Pass and the Continental Divide.  From the valley floor, it ascends the mountains in one, long, narrow, slightly twisted, incline, passing waterfalls, and sheer drops both above and below the pavement.   The visitors decided to make their first day a photography scouting day and Jay drove the road white knuckled whilst trying not to collide with head-on traffic or go through the low, stone barrier separating them from sheer, multi-thousand foot drops to the lush, green, valley floor.   Meanwhile Chris was oooing and ahhhing at the spectacular mountain scenery and snapping point-and-shoots the entire way to the Pass.

A view west on the Going to the Sun Road.

A Visitor Center welcomes all who brave the ascent and is the transfer point for shuttle bus passengers wishing to go to either side of the Park from whence they came.  Jay vowed he would never drive the road again and Chris agreed that the shuttle would be their main mode of transportation from then on.

The shuttle was convenient, but also limited the time they could be on the trail, especially in the late afternoon when the light was just beginning to “get good” for photography.  After two attempts to visit the east side of the Park, and needing to be at Logan Pass by 7 p.m. for the trip west, they decided future excursions would be on the west side, to the Pass only, and begin early in the morning. 

August Glacier Park daytime temperatures hover in the seventies and eighties but, at 6,600 feet, the 8 a.m. Logan Pass temps dipped into the thirties and forties making the need for warm attire mandatory and explaining why there was snow still clinging to the nearby slopes and meadows.   A one and a half mile long trail leads from the Visitor Center to the gorgeous Hidden Lake viewpoint.  In mid-August about half of the trail was covered with snow and Chris and Jay rolled their eyes at the foot attire of some visitors.  Painted toenails in sexy sandals halted inches from the melting glacier, hesitated, then reversed course.   Slick bottomed sneakers slipped through slush, barely keeping their wearers aloft.  The variety was so laughable that Chris coined a new motto: “Never go to a National Park dressed like you are going to the Mall.”  And yet, many visitors do.

Visitors braving the snow on the Hidden Lake Trail.

The Hidden Lake.  The trail to the lake was closed due to bears.

The Mountain Goat is the official symbol of Glacier National Park and at the Hidden Lake viewpoint they frequently pass within a few yards of onlookers from all over the world.   While Chris was composing photos of the lake, Jay was off with the point-and-shoot snapping shots of the white, mountain nymphs that seemed surprised at the presence of intruders blocking their path down the mountainside. 

This Mountain Goat had yet to shed its winter coat - in August.

Despite the prediction of sun, the weather turned cloudy, windy and cold and the shutter bugs headed back to the shuttle stop with some new acquaintances, Brent and Nancy Garrison.  Nancy is an amateur photographer and she and Chris were sharing secrets when they realized their spouses were no longer nearby but well behind them and engaged in conversation with a tall man wearing a Tilley hat.  While hiking, Jay wears a Tilley hat to protect his face from the sun.  When he spies another on the trails, he comments to the wearer that it is a nice hat.  This sometimes leads to a short conversation where he stops and Chris keeps going.  Such was the case this particular morning except the wearer turned out to be the Superintendent of the Park!  Chris and Nancy doubled back, introductions were made and group photos taken before they continued on.

Left to right: Jay, Chris The Super and Brent.

A young man, with skis strapped to his back, had passed the hikers on their way to the overlook and was headed toward one of the snow-covered slopes.  On their return trip, Chris searched the peaks for his tracks and found them.  He not only had wanted to ski, but to be an artist as he’d carved a caduceus-like spiral down the slope.

It seemed a bit of an effort for the reward.

One of their east side excursions took them to St. Mary Falls, a beautiful, two-tiered fall which spilled frothy white foam into a translucent blue-green pool.  Chris spent a considerable amount of time capturing the scene from different angles as other visitors passed by.  One middle-aged man repeatedly cast glances at Chris and, determining that the man patiently reading a magazine nearby was somehow associated with her, approached Jay to ask about her attire. 

St. Mary Fall.

Over the last year Chris had developed a somewhat unusual collection of camera garb.  She wears an Army combat vest replete with grenade and canteen pouches filled with lenses, adapters and other useful items for photographing in the field.  A Camelbak water reservoir is fastened to the back of the vest and she dons a large-brimmed hat for protection from the sun.   As many double takes as she gets from her gear getup, the item that draws the most inquiries is her black cape. 

Chris likes to check the monitor to evaluate photo compositions and confirm the image is in focus before moving to another location.  When photographing in the sun, it is almost impossible to see what is being displayed on the camera monitor.    She solved the problem by making a cape of a heavy, black, knit fabric.  It is attached to the shoulders of the vest and when she wants to check the monitor, tosses it over her head and camera much like photographers of old did with large format cameras.  It blocks the sun, creating a mini darkroom, so that the monitor is easily viewed. 

Chris with vest and hiking poles.  The cape is rolled up and attached to the

 back of the vest until needed.  It is visible below the vest between the poles.

It was the cape the man was so intrigued by.  He queried Jay about where Chris had gotten it and how could he get one.  To his surprise, Jay explained how she had sewed it herself, by hand.  The discussion led to where she got the vest, what lenses she used and other photo talk before signals from his wife, impatient to get going, terminated the conversation. 

Similar scenarios frequently occur on the trails.  Because Chris unexpectedly stops to photograph, Jay usually walks behind her and sees passer’s by reactions of double takes and stares.  Several people have stopped to talk about her outfit, taken photos of her and new friendships have been forged.  Admittedly it is quite a conversation starter.

After a week of moderately strenuous hikes, Chris and Jay decided they were fit enough for the eleven mile long Highline/Loop Trail.  It starts at the Logan Pass Visitor Center and treks horizontally across a mountainous section of the Continental Divide for seven miles.  The Highline Trail section terminates at the Granite Park Chalet which provides sleeping quarters for hikers that want to experience more than just a day hike.  To get back to civilization one needs to hike downhill four miles to The Loop on the Going to the Sun Road to pick up a shuttle bus or reunite with a vehicle. 

The hikers caught a 7:15 a.m. shuttle to Logan Pass and by 8:30 they were on the shaded, freezing cold trail admiring the frosty patterns on the surrounding plants.  Chris stopped to capture some photos and for the most part, was comfortably warm.  On the other hand, Jay was miserable having underdressed for the day.  The lack of sun and cold temperatures had him pacing back and forth and doing everything he could think of, including covering himself with a poncho, to keep warm.    Several hours and a few miles later, the sun was warming a distant stretch of the trail and Jay pushed ahead to thaw out. 

Jay feeling pretty miserable.

Around every corner the panoramic vistas of the mountains across the valley were breathtaking.   Charcoal peaks rose almost vertically from emerald green valleys and puffs of clouds impaled themselves on the stalwart summits.  Patches of snow clung to hollows in the highest altitudes.  Halfway to the Chalet, McDonald Lake shimmered in the distance like millions of tiny sapphires glinting in the sun as it lay nestled amongst layers of blue-toned ridges. 

McDonald Lake from the Highline Trail.

Along the trail Chris was intrigued by the myriad of colorful rocks that blanketed the surrounding slopes.  From pebbles to boulders there were greens and blues and peaches and cream; sometimes solid and sometimes layered in the same stones.   She stopped to photograph some of the interesting details and found abstract mountains and faces amongst the fractures.

One of the more unusual rocks found on the trail.

Although the wildlife at six thousand feet is sparse, it is grand.  A heard of mature, male Bighorn Sheep blended into the landscape almost imperceptibly.  But the sharp eyes of a fellow hiker caught them and shared the sight with others.  Young ladies hiking in the opposite direction had seen several Grizzly Bears but by the time Chris and Jay caught sight of them, they were well out of photographic range.   They stayed to see two large Grizzlies, one with silver shoulders, and a large cub run up an almost vertical slope to the mountain crest and amble over to the other side.  The observers were in awe of the massive power required of these huge mammals to effect such a feat.

Almost invisible against the rocks, two Bighorn Sheep rest in the sunny warmth.

At 7:20 p.m. the last shuttle bus leaves The Loop parking lot.   The tiring hikers reached the Chalet about 5 p.m., stopped for a brief rest and started down the mountain to their destination four miles below.  Most people might think hiking downhill is easier because of gravity’s assistance but the knees take more of a pounding which is then transferred to the hips and lower back and before long ones entire body is throbbing with pain.  Chris and Jay’s feet and hips started aching at the six mile mark but the lingering 7 o-clock deadline forced them forward.  

The Granite Park Chalet.  How they wished they could have stayed the night there.

In Chris’ opinion, The Loop Trail could have been half the length since they spied The Loop section, of the Going to the Sun Road, about one third of the way down the four mile length.  But then the trail continued away from their destination for what seemed like an eternity as the late afternoon rays of the sun heated the weary hikers beyond a level of comfort.  Another stop to peel off layers helped but by this time every step had become synonymous with misery as inflamed toes and heels rubbed boots continuously.  The backpack and camera vest straps dug into their shoulders and felt as if someone had snuck up on them and attached twenty pound lead weights. And yet the trail continued away from their destination.   

At long last it swung around and their spirits brightened, but only briefly as they realized they had to match and exceed the distance they had traveled while wondering if their tortured toes would hold out.  Every step became more painful than the one before.  Knees, hips, backs and shoulders screamed for relief but, aware of the approaching shuttle deadline, the brains knew they could not rest.

Finally, The Loop road appeared, but a deep ravine separated the exhausted hikers from their journey’s end.  The detour around it involved trekking hundreds of yards away from the road, crossing a footbridge and trudging back on the other side, to – PAVEMENT!!  Dodging traffic Chris and Jay plodded on to the Shuttle Stop and plopped onto the bench at exactly 7:08 p.m.  Their feet were swollen and felt as if they’d walked on hot coals.  Gear was shed, bodies hydrated and sighs and smiles of relief were exchanged.    Now able to laugh at the experience they decided a bathroom break was needed before the long shuttle ride home. 

The human body is an amazing creation.  It can endure torturous physical stress and periods of tremendous endurance, but once it rests, it locks up.  Such was the case with Chris and Jay.  Chris looked like an arthritically crippled, ninety year old as she stood up in stages, first leaning her body forward then pushing off the bench with her arms and struggling upright against the throbbing back pain.  Finally upright, but with a slight hunch, she hobbled on tender feet across the street to her destination.  Ditto on the return trip.  Her kindred spirit endured a similar experience.

The shuttle drive was an opportunity to relax and the bus deposited them where they began their excursion.  Vowing never to exceed a six mile hike again, they elatedly crawled into Big Red and made a bee line home to Sonny, and an evening of popcorn and a movie.

The perfect weather, gorgeous sights and myriad of hiking trails obliged the travelers to extend their two week stay to three from which emerged an unexpected surprise.  David and Sherry Boyd, whom they had met on a Bryce Canyon trail and had admired Chris’ photo vest, was staying at the same Glacier RV Park.   Unfortunately, Sherry had broken her ankle while jogging one morning and was completely laid up.  Chris shared some books to occupy her long days of inactivity and their friends left a few days later while still grappling with the decision to continue their tour or head back to their home in Virginia. 

Early September is a time of celebration for Chris and Jay.  Their anniversary is on the 7^th and Jay’s birthday the 9^th.  On the 8^th, they celebrated with a dinner at the historic Belton Chalet the first Great Northern Railway hotel which was built near the Glacier National Park entrance around 1910.  It was a wonderful finale to some of the best time spent on their Odyssey thus far and the morning of the 9^th Sonny was on the move again but, this time heading south.

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.

Moseying Through Montana

When Chris had planned their 2011 travels north she was smart enough to schedule down time after major photography stops and six days at Bozeman, Montana was just what they needed after all the driving at Yellowstone.   The RV Park where they stayed packed the transient guests into shade less, graveled sites like sardines and was sandwiched between the interstate on one side and very active train tracks on the other; complete with a nearby intersection which required passing locomotives to blow the long, short, long air horns at their approach.   Chris and Jay never knew what to expect when they arrived at a new Park and pondered adding “How close are you to train tracks?” to the list of questions they normally ask about price, cell service, and hook-up facilities when making reservations.

When checking into the Park on Friday, July 29^th, they were told about a Sunday morning Farmers’ Market held at the Bozeman Fairgrounds.  Tired of the same old breakfast fare, Chris suggested they go out for a Sunday morning breakfast and attend the Farmers Market thinking it would give them a flavor of the area.

After so many weeks of living close to the earth and hiking Chris decided it was time to get gussied up for their trip into “the city”.  Hair was styled, makeup was applied, “going out” attire was selected and donned and she felt like a person she had known before but had somehow lost track of.   With map in hand, complete with locations of eating establishments graciously noted by the Park owners, the visitors eagerly headed into town for a welcome break from computers and long days of driving. 

They found the college town of Bozeman held more promise than the RV Park.  Late eighteen hundred style vintage brick buildings lined the broad, downtown Main Street echoing its early roots and clean, roomy, sidewalks bordered prosperous shops, offices and cafés.  They hopped out of Big Red and eagerly headed toward the location of several orange dots on the map signifying restaurants serving scrumptious breakfast fare.

They walked a few blocks and didn’t find the one they sought, so they crossed the street and doubled back seeking an alternative option.  Nothing seemed appealing so, thinking they had somehow missed the establishment, they crossed the street again and slowly scanned the storefronts and signs they’d previously passed.  Still no café.  Thinking the establishment had gone out of business, perhaps unbeknownst to the Park owner, they again crossed the street in hopes of finding something that would satisfy their growling tummies. 

After reading the menu in the window of a small coffee shop and not finding what they felt would satisfy their cravings, they turned to continue down the street when a woman, sitting at the establishment’s lone outdoor table with her husband, asked if she could help them find something.  Jay explained their quest and, in an instant, discovered the orange dot on the map was on the wrong block.  The discussion of directions turned into where each party was from, then why each was there, to introductions and exchanging cards with contact information.  Their new friends, Paula Milano and Eric Nielsen, then walked them far enough to see the café’s sign and they vowed to get together before leaving at the end of the week.

The meal at Main Street Over Easy did not disappoint and in fact exceeded Jay and Chris’ expectations of breakfast fare in a small western town.  But the delay in finding it, plus the time spent eating, left only an hour to take in the Farmers’ Market. 

Compared to the Fairgrounds near Annapolis and Baltimore, Bozeman’s was quite small.  And due to the minute percentage of produce stands vs. craft vendors, it seemed to Chris that it should be called a flea market or craft fair rather than a Farmers’ Market; but they found the fresh veggies she wanted and then some.   To Chris it was an opportunity to get some unique Christmas gifts.  To Jay it was about PIE!!  They sought and they scored!

After two weeks without a cell signal hundreds of e-mails needed attention, bills needed to be paid, laundry had to be washed and in general, the travelers enjoyed not needing to drive anywhere except to re-provision their depleted supplies.   Dinner with Paula and Eric was their only commitment and they all enjoyed it thoroughly.

A view of the Madison Mountain Range from Peets Hill/Burke Park in Bozeman.

 

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In May of 2010 Chris corresponded with a former computer client, turned friend, about their plans to tour Montana that year.  (If you’ve been following the blog you know those plans were delayed until 2011.)   Chris’ friend knew a couple that lived in Deer Lodge, MT and suggested that they get together when they passed through the area on the way to Glacier National Park.  Several e-mails later an invitation to visit was extended by the Deer Lodge residents, Irene and Bill Fries (pronounced frees).   Not wanting to be an imposition on people they’d never met, and not knowing how they might get along, Chris arranged to stay only through a weekend.   On Friday, August 5^th Jay maneuvered Sonny onto a level area of their front lawn while trying not to be distracted by the view across the valley of the majestic Flint Creek mountain range and the 10,000 foot Mt. Powell.  Irene and Bill were gracious hosts and the two couples found much in common to discuss and do. 

A breathtakingly beautiful sunset over the Flint Creek Range.

Irene is an avid hiker, but long treks do not agree with Bill’s extremities which keep him home working on improvements or woodworking projects.   Elated that Chris and Jay shared her outdoor interest, the three of them planned to hike the next day.   She took them to a trail that led to the Barker Lakes – one lower, the other upper.   The trail to the lower lake took them through open fields with spectacular views of the surrounding peaks, Lodgepole Pine forests and rock strewn meadows dotted with stunted trees but brimming with wildflowers of every color amongst  the lush, tall, vibrant  green grasses which are nourished by the turbulent lake-fed stream running parallel to the path. 

A patch of wildflowers along the trail.

After several miles they crested a hill and before them lay a mountain paradise.  Gray peaks, dotted with tenacious patches of snow, soared above a deep green skirt of mature pine and fir and wrapped around the lake like a protective, 4,000 foot high horseshoe.  The hikers longed to build a cozy cabin on the shore and live out the rest of their days in quiet, stress-free solitude.      

Chris and Jay at Lower Barker Lake.

Irene had a magazine article that explained how to get to the upper lake and Chris, more than Jay, was eager to help her find it.  The writer explained that trees with patches of bark removed were the trail markers to look for.  The hikers set out on a faint trail around the rim of the lake and turned inland where they thought the directions indicated.  At this point there was no trail but they pressed through rough, dead limbs and over errant rocks and rotting logs trying to find the bare spots on trees that would mark their way.  The directions indicated crossing a 100 foot wide rock slide and that a tree with a bare patch was visible on the other side.  Chris and Irene left Jay, who was tiring of the exercise, and scaled an almost vertical slope littered with boulders the size of a body ball to reach a level area that they thought might lead them to the lake; and maybe even spy one of the bare trail markers.  Nothing was sighted but dark storm clouds above the mountain peaks heading their way. 

Irene descending the rock slide.

Feeling their efforts were in vain, and much to Jay’s relief, they all trekked down to the lake and arrived under the shelter of some dense evergreens just as the heavens opened complete with bolts of lightning and rolling claps of thunder.   It was the Christening of Chris and Jay’s ponchos that they so dutifully carted around with them on every hike and Irene covered up with a beach blanket she kept in her pack.

The sky cleared and they made it back to the car unscathed but disappointed they’d not located the upper lake.  A search on Google maps revealed that it was on the other side of the mountain to the left of the lake and one had to skirt around the base of it to get to the other side.   If three, intelligent people couldn’t locate the elusive body of water, they determined that the article’s directions were misleading and the map grossly inaccurate.

The next day Bill joined them to spend the afternoon at the Grant-Kohrs Ranch National Historic Site located in Deer Lodge.  All that remains of one of the largest Montana cattle ranches is 1,600 acres and 80 historic structures originally used by founder, Johnny Grant, and subsequent owner, Conrad Kohrs, from the 1850s well into the 20^th century.  In the Ranch’s heyday 50,000 head of cattle roamed over 10 million acres of western Montana, Wyoming, Colorado and Canada.   The visitors toured the monstrous home, learned about the role of the chuck wagon on cattle drives and even practiced throwing a lasso around a makeshift wooden horse. 

A Ranch Volunteer, who makes a stiff cup of coffee, stands next to the Chuckwagon.

Bill Fries watches Jay practice his lassoing skills.

The new friends all agreed that their time together was too short and Chris and Jay promised to spend more time when they next passed through the area.  On Monday, August 8^th they departed for a four-day layover at Missoula, a few hours to the northwest.

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Missoula was a much larger town than they had expected but Jay took advantage of the plethora of large, chain stores to purchase some items that he had coveted for some time.  When Chris is photographing he usually takes along a magazine to read and pass the time.  He’d finished so many over the last year that he was running out of the stockpile of back issues he’d accumulated and wanted to begin reading novels, but didn’t want to carry the weight.  An e-reader seemed to be the logical solution and he finally found one that suited his needs and price range in Missoula.  He also yearned for a cell signal booster since the signals, in the remote areas where they camped, often were less than three bars resulting in dropped calls and making internet usage painfully slow.  He was ecstatic to find one and couldn’t wait to get it installed.

Despite the nearby train, the large, grassy sites and profusion of flowers in manicured beds, throughout the RV Park, made Chris and Jay think that it was one of the prettiest in which they had stayed.  They learned that their neighbors, Gerry and Dee Vachon, agreed when they got together one night after dinner.   The spacious lawns between the sites were home to large shade trees and created an inviting location for several hours of casual conversation.  After dusk the temperatures chilled so they moved inside - just before the sprinklers came on.  Gerry and Dee stayed only one night and an Oriental family took the site the next day.  They were still sitting outside at the picnic table after dinner when Chris and Jay heard their surprised but playful screams when the sprinklers unexpectedly doused them.  Smiles creased the listener’s faces. 

Even though they thought the scheduled down time would enable them to complete long put-off projects, it was not the case but they were looking forward to their visit in Polson with Jay’s old Coast Guard buddy, Fletcher Brown and his new wife Yan Zi, whom he had met on a visit to China seven years before.  The drive from Missoula to Polson was another short day and they arrived at Fletcher’s Montana country home, overlooking the thirty mile-long Flathead River and the quaint town of Polson, the afternoon of Friday, August 12^th .