My Trip to Montana
First I want to warn any unsuspecting readers that this account is very long (16 pages long). It’s intended to remind me of all the details of my trip, even 20 years from now when I can’t remember everything without aid. If you want the “Cliff Notes” version, look at the annotated maps I created. All the major events are documented there, but be warned the files are large and not intended to be printed on an 8-1/2”x11” sheet of paper.
I also must thank several people that made this trip possible.
· David, my husband – for his support and not minding too much that I went without him.
· Norm – for letting me join his trip even though he’d never met me, providing one of his horses for me even though he’d never seen me ride, lodging, food, transportation to and from the airport, and the experience of a lifetime that I will never forget.
· Bob – for putting me in touch with his dad and apparently saying enough nice things about me to “trick” him into taking me along.
· Bill and Angie – for providing such good company on the trip and not making fun of me out there.
· Phil – for making such good meals and providing good company.
· Fran, my mom – for letting me stay at her house the night before the trip and for taking me to the airport in the middle of the night.
I went to Montana in July of this year (2008) to go on a 5 or 6 night pack trip (with horses, no mules) into the Bob Marshall Wilderness in western Montana. Although I wasn’t taking my own horse, I did ship my saddle up since Norm said he didn’t think any of his saddles would fit the horse I was riding well enough for a long trip.
I spent the night before at my mom’s house the night before the trip and she took me to the airport in the middle of the night for a 6 am flight.
After flight connections and layovers, I arrived in Missoula, MT the afternoon of July 5th. My luggage arrived safely, and Norm’s friend Phil (and their friend Janice) picked me up at the airport. It’s about an hour’s drive up to Norm’s house in Seeley Lake, and I couldn’t get enough of the scenery. I’d been to the Rockies before, but it had been years. I could see forest roads snaking along the outside of mountains and thought to myself “I hope none of the trails I ride look like that!” Remember that thought later.
Salmon Lake
Blackfoot River
Blackfoot River
Once we arrived at Norm’s house and I met him and their other friend Carol—Janice and Carol were visiting from California—we got my saddle out and saddled up Apache, the adorable black and white paint that was to be my mount for the trip. My saddle fit him perfectly, which doesn’t surprise me a lot. Apache was only slightly shorter and wider than my horse so I figured my saddle would fit him. Although he was herd-bound and didn’t want to be ridden far from his buddies, I rode him around the driveway a bit to make sure I could handle him and see how all the tack fit. All was well, so we unsaddled him, put him away, and put my saddle in the trailer.
Then we unpacked my suitcases and packed the bags and panniers—although the panniers were mostly packed already. It was more a case of adding my stuff to the top pack, and packing my duffel bag. Oh, and I was handed two of the most important items to take with me, and keep with me pretty much at all times: bear repellant spray and a roll of toilet paper in a Ziploc bag. I was hoping to only use the second one!
I also gave Norm his present. I was planning on waiting until the end of the trip, but I can’t stand to wait to give people presents. I cross stitched a horse head for a him, a grey one. His horse Flint is grey, although old enough to be totally white now. Norm seemed to really like it — I sure hope he did!
Horse Head Cross stitch
Since Carol and Janice had the guest bedroom, I bunked on the sofa. It was a good transition step from a bed to sleeping on the ground. Plus, I was tired from the flights and excitement and fell asleep with no problems.
The next morning everyone got up, had breakfast, and went out to catch the horses. Let’s just say the horses didn’t really agree with our plan, but we got them all caught and loaded up. Norm’s saddle horse is Flint, a 27 year old Percheron cross that is just gorgeous, and in fabulous shape. Of course, Apache was the 8 year old little black and white paint that I was riding. Riley was the 18 year old Thoroughbred cross that was serving as our pack horse. We drove down to a local market with a big parking lot and met Bill and Angie, who were also going on this trip. They had their horses – Lucy, Bill’s saddle horse; Shay, Angie’s saddle horse; and Diamond, their pack horse.
After a drive of around ½ hour or so, we got to the trail head, unloaded, saddled and packed up. Now I have to confess that I have to use some sort of mounting block—log, rock, step stool—to get up in the saddle. We were parked across from a handicapped mounting chute so I led Apache over to it. Rather than put him in the chute, I was just going to stand on the edge of one wall and have him stand next to it. Apache thought I wanted him up on top with me and had both of his front hooves up before I got him stopped. Mind you, this wall was close to waist high on me. Once I got him backed off, Norm took his head and kept him still for me while I climbed on (from the left side instead of the right I might add.)
Apache and Riley at the trailhead
Bill getting ready
Riley getting packed
Flint
With that minor hiccup out of the way, we headed out on the trail (#32 Hobnail Tom Trail): Norm in front on Flint, leading Riley, me on Apache next (just try and separate him from his buddies), then Bill on Lucy, leading Diamond, and Angie on Shay at the back.
Not far from the trail head, Shay stumbled hard and went down on his knees, startling poor Angie nearly to death. From there, it seemed like the ride was going to be pretty easy. We were winding through some pine trees, not very tall because the area had burned back in 1988, and the terrain was gently rolling.
Before very long, Norm pointed out a trail that we’d be coming back on because in a couple of spots, downriver and upriver traffic have separate trails. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. We rode a bit further, and I got to have my first heart attack.
I think I’ve neglected to mention my fear of heights. I’m not a little afraid of heights. I’m not even a lot afraid of heights. I am DEATHLY afraid of heights. It took me years to get comfortable riding a horse because of how high I am off the ground when I ride. (Yeah, I know, a few feet. Whoopee. Tell that to my fear.) Poor Norm, I never warned him of my fear. For some strange reason I had myself convinced that I wouldn’t be riding on any trails that my fear of heights would be a problem.
Meanwhile, back to my heart attack. The trail became narrow, with a pretty significant drop (about 400 feet or so down to the river) and in a couple of spots, a rock-slide covered the trail with shale rocks, with sizes ranging from pebbles on up to maybe a foot long. Most of the rocks were flattish, but were piled fairly deep so the footing was a bit dicey. Now let’s add into the equation the fact that the horses are shod all around with iron shoes. We know how much traction you get with iron shoes. I’m also used to my horse’s wearing hoof boots instead of shoes, so I was nervous about Apache slipping on the rocks. Needless to say, I had my first taste of what riding in Montana is all about!
High above the North fork of the Blackfoot River
Before long though, the trail moved away from the edge, the terrain gentled out again, and I was doing pretty good. We stopped so that Bill could adjust the packs on Diamond, and another pack string caught up with us from behind. We sent them on through, and then we encountered another string coming out of the wilderness. They had a longer pack string, so we let them past as well. Bill and Angie sent us on ahead so they could adjust a few more things, so Norm and I continued on.
It wasn’t too long before we were on another section of the trail that was for upriver traffic only. Magically, it was another narrow trail with a steep drop off on the side. (Sense a theme on these separated trails? I sure did!)
Shortly after making it through that section (where I was convinced I was going to die for the second time in less than an hour), we came to the first pack bridge across the North Fork of the Blackfoot River. The river was moving fast and was surprising loud —roaring in fact. Apache wasn’t about to be left behind so we clopped right across that long wooden bridge without any fuss at all.
First pack bridge
We stopped and waited for Bill and Angie, so I got out my camera and got a picture of the bridge and the general area around us. This part of the wilderness had suffered a forest fire last year (2007), in addition to the one in 1988, so the landscape was pretty bleak. All the new growth was gone, and all that was left was some snags—dead tree trunks still standing.
Trail in burned area
Bill and Angie caught up with us and we continued on. Norm said we were about halfway there and I remember thinking “Oh please don’t let there be more narrow trails.” Although none of the rest of the trail that day had as steep of a drop, there were still plenty of narrow spots with enough of a drop to keep me on edge. Plus, we encountered several backpackers. Pack strings have the right of way over backpackers, so everyone got off the trail for us. Unfortunately, not everyone—in fact nobody seemed to know—that they are supposed to get off on the downhill side of the trail. Then if the horse gets scared, he’s likely to turn uphill and not fall off the side. Every single backpacker we encountered went to the uphill side of the trail. It’s important to talk to backpackers and get them to answer so the horses know they are people. A lot of horses get scared of the big backpacks and don’t have a clue they’re attached to people unless you get them talking. Thankfully, although Apache really kept an eye (and an ear) on the backpackers, he bravely shouldered on without jumping off the side of the trail. WHEW!
One narrow section of the trail, with a pretty good drop (maybe 100 feet or so), had a downed tree across it, leaning from the uphill side. You had to take your horse all the way to the outer edge of the trail to step over it, and make sure he didn’t jump it. Apache did great, although I thought I was going to die. (I’ve lost track of how many times I thought this in the course of the day. This was at least the fourth, but could have been fifth, sixth, seventh…..Yes, I’m a big chicken.)
It wasn’t too much further past this point, maybe another half hour or so, that we turned off on the side trail to our first night’s camp along the North Fork of the Blackfoot River. Our total ride was just over six miles, and took us just about two hours.
We got the horses unsaddled and the pack horses unpacked, then we selected tent locations. We got our tents pitched, sleeping bags unrolled, and then Norm got in his tent to take a nap. I thought that was a dandy idea, so I crawled in my tent and took a short one, too. I have no idea if Bill or Angie did or not, I was out like a light.
First camp overview
first camp looking north
First camp
Flint after first day
Apache after first day
North fork Blackfoot River
Riley after first day
07-06-08 Trail map
07-06-08 Elevation profile
Norm got up a little while later and started a fire. The country up there is very dry, even after a wet spring, and fire danger was at High the whole time we were there. Fires are as small as possible, in a cleared area, inside a fire ring of rocks. All fires are to be doused with water until completely out. Norm cooked our first back-country meal. We had cream of potato soup with canned chicken and cheese and garlic biscuits. I was starving and it tasted wonderful. We also had set up a water filtration system because of a nasty parasite that can be found in the water called Ghiardia. It can be killed by boiling or removed by filtration. Norm doesn’t trust bleach or other chemical treatments and I sure wasn’t going to argue. We also watered the horses and the creek and grazed them by turning one loose with a catch rope, and hand-grazing the remainder. By only having one horse loose at a time, it is unlikely for that horse to head off back to the trail head without you. This very important lesson cannot be stressed enough.
While grazing the horses, I noticed that Apache had a goose-egg in his left armpit, and the skin was rubbed raw. He also had a smaller swelling in the right armpit, but at least the skin wasn’t broken. We treated it with Nitrofurazone and decided that we would change my saddle from 7/8 to 3/4 rigging the next day.
Since Norm cooked, Angie and I did the dishes. We found out that cold river water does a poor job of rinsing dishes, but sand makes a wonderful scrubber. We then boiled some water which did a much better job of rinsing dishes—as well as rendered them safe to use after being rinsed in unfiltered water.
The rest of the afternoon and evening a few mule deer does kept coming into camp. One was young, no longer spotted but not a full adult, either. Deer, mule or white-tail, are famous for chewing on saddles, bridles, or saddle pads for the sweat so we stacked all the tack on a downed tree and covered it with a tarp, weighted down with rocks. Some time before bed I also brushed Flint, Riley, and Apache to get the sweat off them so we could saddle up the next morning without having to brush then. You definitely don’t want to leave the sweat on their backs or they could get sores. Ouch!
Mule deer in camp first night
It doesn’t get dark until around 10 pm that far north, instead of around 8:30 here in Missouri. In spite of it still being light, I crawled into my tent around 9:00 pm. I was a bit worried I’d have to get up in the middle of the night to answer a call of nature since I’d been terribly thirsty and just downing water all day, but no problems there. It is so much drier, and a breeze blew all day, that I really needed all the water I was drinking.
Due to the general excitement and amount of fear I’d felt that day, and perhaps the nap I took, I didn’t really sleep soundly but I didn’t feel tired the next morning. I got up after I heard Norm get the fire going and start heating water for coffee and hot chocolate. Bill and Angie got up soon after me, and Norm cooked oatmeal for breakfast. We grazed the horses again, and Bill and I saw something we didn’t expect to see. Trotting down the main trail, headed back towards the trail head, were three horses. They stopped and stared at our horses, and our horses stared at them. Flint, who was on the drag rope, started heading towards them but I managed to lead both Riley and Apache over and cut him off at the pass (so to speak). I didn’t head straight for him — rather I angled between him and the main trail then back-tracked until I could get his rope. Then I lead all three back closer to camp, away from the other horses. Now there was no way for me to get up to where those horses were to try to catch them. Long before I could get there, they took off again at a trot. We all wondered if an outfitter turned them loose to go back, but were fairly certain not because they still had halters on, and at least one was dragging a rope. Nobody would turn a horse loose to go back with a halter and/or lead rope for fear of it getting hung up on something.
After getting dishes washed, we packed up camp, saddled and packed up the horses (after adjusting my rigging), and headed back out on the trail. I was a bit nervous about what all was to come, but figured I’d already seen what the trails were like so thought it would be more of the same.
Maybe a half mile down the trail, we came to another pack bridge across the river. On the other side was the North Fork Cabin and ranger station. Both it and the pack bridge had been burned in a prior forest fire, but had been rebuilt. Just past the cabin, Trail #32 turns to the right and goes up to a waterfall but we took the trail to the left, Trail #31 Dry Fork Trail. (My friend Laura continued up #32 on her pack trip.)
The next half mile of trail was very easy, and I started to relax some. We came to a split in the trail, marked “low water route” and “high water route”. I joked to Norm that I didn’t like trails with the name “high” in them. How little did I know I was being prophetic! Very quickly this trail became the most terrifying thing I’d ever ridden in my life. It wasn’t as high up as some trails, only about 100 feet above the river, but it was by far the narrowest. The pack on Riley’s left side hung entirely over the side of the trail, and the only reason the pack on his right fit is because the mountain sloped up steeply. If it had been a straight face it wouldn’t have fit.
I hadn’t really noticed, but Norm whistled or sang a lot on this trail. I found out later it was so if anyone else was coming towards us, they would be able to hear us. If you encounter another pack string and there isn’t room to pass, there are several rules governing who has right of way. The other string then has to turn around (each horse/mule is turned around individually, and then led or ridden out in reverse order.) Length of pack string (number of pack animals tied together, not number of saddle horses), uphill vs. downhill, and inbound vs. outbound are all factors. I couldn’t see how anyone could turn around on that trail. I couldn’t even see how you could get off your horse, that mountain was so steep.
That section was about a mile long but thankfully we made it through without encountering anyone, and we were all quite relieved about that. Norm told us later that he thought someone would have had to backed their string out because there wasn’t room to turn around.
For the couple of miles or so I got the chance to relax a bit because the trail was further from the edge, and some of it was downright easy. Alas, my terror for the day was not over.
Ahead in the distance I could see a trail that went out the end of a ridge, then ran along the ridge next to the peak, until it got significantly steeper and disappeared over the top. I clearly remember thinking “I hope we don’t go on THAT trail.” To my chagrin, I found out that was, indeed, the trail we were on. As we climbed (and climbed and climbed), we eventually got to where we were so close to the peak of the ridge that I could have reached out and touched it with my right hand. That is, if I hadn’t been so terrified that I had both hands glued on the reins, reinforcing my cue for my horse to stay as close to the hill-side of the trail as possible. (Like he really had anywhere else to go. I suffer no illusion that my steering did any good at all.) My biggest fear was that a bear (grizzly or black) or a mountain lion would come bounding over the top of the ridge, scaring Apache and causing him to plummet off the side of the mountain. Whether I fell with him or jumped clear, only to be a bear/lion snack was only a technicality I was afraid to contemplate.
I felt sorry for poor Apache, carrying my lard butt up this very long, and in places very steep hill. He started to get tired, and stumbled a couple of times while rushing to keep up with Flint and Riley. Of course I panicked when that happened, but he regained his feet. I was a bit concerned he might not make it up the hill at the end because he was puffing so hard. He did make it though, obviously, and we all stopped to rest the horses at the top. I should have gotten off and walked around a bit to stretch out my knees and ankles and to give Apache a break. My joints hurt really badly from how hard I was bracing in the saddle. I made the mistake of asking Norm if we had to ride that trail back and yes, you guessed it: “Yeppers”.
Again, I had a mile or so to relax where the terrain was relatively easy, although not flat, and I could tell that hill had really taken a lot out of Apache. He huffed on much shorter, easier hills and he was stumbling more.
In continuing with the pattern of heart attack, relax, heart attack, relax, we came upon the next scary part of the trail. It started descending, although not too steeply at first. It really never got that steep, as far as the trail itself went, but the drop off the side was a bit more than I liked. There was one really sharp switchback, and another gentler one past it, but they didn’t really scare me. It was riding along the side of the slope after getting around the second switchback that made me nervous. Here and there were some rocky sections of the trail that I wouldn’t have thought twice about without the sharp drop on the side, or even if the horses didn’t have iron shoes. Generally trails in the southern half of Missouri are much rockier, and in some ways much more technically challenging—but the consequences of a slip in Montana are so much worse than in Missouri that it really scared me.
After that stretch, the trail was generally much easier and the drop-offs, when present, weren’t nearly as steep or as far down. However, I was really in a lot of pain, especially my ankle, and I just really wanted off my horse. The pain was quickly becoming unbearable, but Norm said we were maybe another 45 minutes from camp.
In this general area, we crossed over the Dry Fork of the Blackfoot River, although it wasn’t actually dry. We did let the horses get some small drinks, but kept them going so they wouldn’t colic. Norm and I were little bit past the crossing when I heard Angie call for Norm so we stopped and turned around. We headed back towards them and here came Lucy, trotting along rider-less. I was able to block her with Apache, and then Bill caught up to her. He had gotten off because he had to let go of Diamond’s rope when Diamond kept drinking in the river and Lucy kept walking forward out of the river. Somehow Lucy then got away from him, hence the rider-less adventure. Bill sent us on ahead while he got back on Lucy and got Diamond situated. A mile or so down we took a short break and waited for them.
Unfortunately, we were further than we thought from where we planned to camp—six or so miles back when Norm said maybe another 45 minutes. That’s not the bad news, though. The bad news was that someone else was set up in camp when we got to the turn-off, so we had to pass it up and keep going. Norm thought there was another place not too far ahead and in all reality, it wasn’t that far.
The big obstacle to finding a campsite was the river itself. The general area is called the Danaher Meadows (named for Danaher Mountain overlooking it), but the river is surrounded by a marshy slough and there’s no way across it to get to the water. We had to keep going until we found a creek that was feeding the river.
In some sections, the trail was about 30 feet above the slough, and Apache was tired and stumbling a lot by this point. One time, all four feet slipped off the trail at the same time and I thought he was going to fall those 30 feet into the slough. Angie thought we were goners. Apache didn’t agree though, and managed to get back up on the trail. I was getting ready to bail off him and let him go. Norm had said if something like that happened, jump off and let the horse go. I am so happy that wasn’t necessary, you can’t even imagine! I pretty much had a breakdown on the spot, for which eternally I will be embarrassed.
Shortly after that incident, we found an area that would have made a great camp, but didn’t see any water. We headed off the trail to a row of trees (trees grow along water) but only came across a dry ditch. Hopes somewhat dashed, we continued down the trail. By this time, I was pretty well resigned to just following Riley’s tail. I no longer looked right or left, and wasn’t even thinking anymore.
Not too much further down, we came across lots of evidence of prior campsites—burned circles on the ground although there were no longer any rocks around them (if there had been initially). Norm signaled us off the trail, and I thought we were still looking for water so I commented out loud “You’d think there would be water nearby if people camped here.” I can’t remember who replied, I think it was Bill, “There’s water right there, didn’t you see it?” or something like that. Well DUH, I was so focused on Riley’s tail, and resigned to the fact we were still going down the trail, I didn’t notice. Our ride length was about fourteen miles, and it took us about five and a half hours with no real breaks.
We went through the same basic routine as before—unpack and unsaddle the horses, set up tents and sleeping bags, graze the horses, and lay down for some short naps or rests. I could not sleep because of the spasms and cramping in my calf muscles, but I did lay down for a bit. Bill went off on a hike to explore the area—something he ended up regretting later.
second camp looking South
second camp looking North
second camp my tent
07-07-08 Trail map
07-07-08 Elevation profile
I’m happy to report the cinch didn’t rub Apache the second day—but my breast-collar rubbed a huge raw spot on his chest so I felt ultra-bad. Here my tack was tearing up my horse—and he wasn’t even my horse! Norm trusted me with him and I was not managing to get my tack to fit him properly.
We talked some about me riding Riley the next day, and packing Apache but I was concerned the pack saddle wouldn’t fit Apache at all. He has a wide, round back with almost no withers whereas Riley has prominent withers. I asked Norm if it was for my peace of mind (after Apache got so tired and stumbled so much) or the horse’s benefit, and he said for me. I told him that the horses came first, and as long as Apache could continue to carry me, it was probably better to do so. He agreed, and came up with the idea of wrapping part of a T-shirt around the breast-collar and duct-taping it in place.
Sometime around then, I don’t recall exactly when in the course of everything, Angie noticed Diamond trying to lie down while tied up. A horse that wants to roll is either really itchy or colicing, and a horse that is itchy generally won’t try to roll when tied. Angie got him untied and started walking him and around that time, Bill came back. Nobody could hear any gut sounds, and every chance Diamond got, he tried to roll. Bill then started hand-walking him, and kept at it for quite some time. Angie also had Banamine, so they gave him a dose of that and kept walking him. Once Bill was tired, Angie and I took turns although Angie did more than me. I couldn’t figure out at first why a bit of walking around was making me so tired, but Angie reminded me of the elevation. Here in Missouri it’s around 500 to 1000 feet above sea level. Up there, it was between 5500 and 6500 feet above sea level, and the air contained a lot less oxygen.
While Angie and I were walking Diamond, Bill was gathering rocks for the fire ring. Angie helped with that too while I was walking Diamond, but I was too much of a wuss and had to rest in between instead. Norm cooked us a delightful supper of mashed potatoes, canned beef, and canned peas mixed together. It doesn’t really sound like much, but it was at least 8 pm before we ate, after having breakfast that morning and maybe a snack bar or trail mix in between. We also had some canned brown bread (sweet) with some spray margarine for dessert. Norm also started going through the packs and burning things that were non-essential so that we could lighten the load on the pack horse(s). At that point nobody was sure if we’d have one pack horse or two by morning. By this time Norm was not feeling well at all—I’m sure the stress of the day and doing too much work took a toll on him.
After about two hours of hand-walking, Diamond started being interested in grazing instead of rolling, and even pooped. (A working intestine is a GREAT sign in this situation. You just don’t know how happy some poop can make you in the right set of circumstances.)
We sent Norm off to bed and the three of us took care of cleaning up camp—washing dishes, stacking the tack, putting everything away, etc. Finally, we all headed off to bed after a final check on the horses.
I had a lot more trouble sleeping that night for two reasons. One, my legs were cramping up so bad I could barely stand it without crying. Two, I was so terrified of having to ride back over those two particularly scary (to me) sections of trail—the super narrow bit and the one hill—that I worried myself silly about it all night.
Well, actually there was a third reason. Around 2 am (my watch has a nightlight on it), a wolf started howling just up the ridge behind the horses. I shot straight up in bed and immediately shined my flashlight on the horses to make sure they were ok. I hadn’t heard them milling about, so figured they were fine but wanted to make sure. Then a pack of what I think were coyotes (due to the amount of yip-yip-yipping I heard) answered the wolf. That continued for quite some time, but the wolf never seemed to come any closer so I finally did drift off to sleep.
The next morning I drug myself out of my tent when I heard Norm get up and start the fire for breakfast. I was very happy to see that Diamond was looking well, and really credit Angie for the Banamine and Bill for managing to walk him for so long.
We had bacon for breakfast, the partially cooked and preserved kind so all you have to do is fry it up and it’s good to go. For the life of me I can’t remember what else we had that morning but maybe it will come to me and I can update this account. I do remember I had hot spiced cider instead of hot chocolate.
Although we weren’t moving very fast that morning, we did eventually take the tents down and packed things up. We also took quite a bit of time with the horses, letting them graze, and getting them brushed since it didn’t happen the night before with all the excitement.
It turns out that maybe it was a good thing we were slow. At the other end of the meadow, Mr. Lone Wolf put in a guest appearance. Bill and Norm started making chicken noises to entice him closer so that we could get a better look. We also made sure to have a hold of every horse’s lead rope instead of letting one drag one, just in case. Mr. Wolf didn’t really come that close to us, and my camera was back in my tent several hundred feet away so I didn’t get a picture. Once he figured out we weren’t really an easy white-meat snack, he turned around and trotted disdainfully away.
In retrospect, I realize that I was probably very close to that wolf when I went off for my “morning constitutional”. I can only imagine what a sight I’d have been, running from a wolf with my pants around my ankles.
Bill was also kind enough to tell us of the “Git R Done” log he found that even had two branches to hold onto as handles. Well obviously we didn’t use the spot after he did, but it was pretty funny.
Eventually we got the horses saddled and packed up, and I had Norm adjust Apache’s saddle and breast-collar to his satisfaction. After we got on, Norm wanted me to get a picture of him on Flint and leading Riley. Apache was full of himself that morning, and decided he was being eaten by the plastic bag that was crinkling on his back. (I was trying to get the camera out of the waterproof bag in my pommel bag.) Alas it was not to be and I was not able to get him to stand still enough for me to actually get the camera out.
Norm on Flint with Riley packing
Riley grazing in the Danaher Meadow
Lalita Brushing Flint
Lalita on Apache in Danaher Meadow
So we headed out on the trail, back the direction we came the day before. Our plan was to ride about 1/2 mile past the scary downhill, and camp down along the river there. The next day was going to be a rest day since this camp area had good fishing holes. Then we were going to get up the last day and get through the really narrow section extra-early to hopefully avoid any outbound pack strings. This plan would even our mileage out more to near 10 miles each day, instead of the 6/14 split we did the first two days. We also decided it would be much better to stop every hour and a half or so, get off the horses, stretch our legs, maybe have a snack, rather than do the whole day’s ride in one marathon session.
After getting a little bit down the trail, we stopped for some pack and saddle adjustments, and then we kept going for about an hour and a half. We stopped in a little meadow to the side of the trail that had a ditch in the middle of it, had a snack, and stretched our legs. We stood the horses in the ditch to get back on, well all of us except Bill, and we kept on going. It was amazing how much better my ankles and legs felt after that ten minute break.
Norm said we’d take a break again before climbing up the switchbacks, but it sort of snuck up on us and we ended up climbing the switchbacks and rested in the meadow at the top. I was getting really nervous by then because I knew at the other end of this meadow was THE HILL. The part that worried me the most was that to see the trail, I was going to have to look down. Now the last thing you ever want to do if you’re afraid of heights is look down. I so wasn’t looking forward to this.
Lalita on Apache, Angie and bill in background
All but Norn entering switchback from the North
All but Norm on switchback
But hey, out there you have two choices: keep going, or keep going. And if you don’t like those options, there’s a third one: keep going! My food, tent, everything was on that pack horse in front of me and if I didn’t want to sleep alone in the woods with no shelter, no food, and no water, well I better keep riding.
Norm told me he was going to make sure that there didn’t get to be a gap between Apache and Riley so Apache wouldn’t rush, and that he was going to take it slow down the hill. I know he had to balance Flint’s naturally fast walk, and impatience at being reined in too much, so I really appreciate him slowing Flint down.
In spite of my fears, I got back on Apache and we headed towards the hill. I watched as Flint and Riley started down, then it was our turn. True to his word, Norm kept Flint slowed down a bit. The few times a gap started to open up, I called out for him to slow down a bit because Apache immediately started rushing to keep up. Norm obliged, and I was stunned to find out that going down that hill really wasn’t all that bad—and wasn’t as bad as going up. When going up, I had to worry about Apache being strong enough to make it. Going down, he wasn’t having any trouble and it just didn’t seem as big and scary. I actually laughed about it at the bottom and admitted it wasn’t nearly as bad as I feared. I was really thankful we were going to be stopping soon though. My legs were tired, and after the stress of anticipation, I was looking forward to getting off Apache and actually relaxing in camp. No way was I thinking about the narrow trail section on tomorrow’s agenda—I had worried myself out on the hill and refused to do it to myself again.
By this time I was talking more and looking around at things, so I actually noticed a ground squirrel cross the trail ahead of Norm. Shortly after this, we came to the place we were going to camp—only to find other people already camping there. This was a bit disheartening, but it did give Norm the chance to ask them if they came in the low-water or the high-water route. They said low-water route, and except for one place where we’d have a jump-down, everything was in good shape.
Since we had to keep going because we couldn’t camp there, we followed the low water route. You could see the high water route in places and no wonder I was scared. It was really perched on the edge of the slope all the way along the side of that ridge. There was one spot where we had to jump down from the bank into the river, but it was no problem for us. Norm had been a bit worried about how Apache would do with the rivers since he was so short and the rivers were up, but he handled himself really well across the river. (And maybe he was worried about me being scared of crossing rivers—although I wasn’t. That I knew I could do!) All I had to do was sit up and stay balanced and Apache powered through the current and across the slick rocks like a pro. Norm later complimented both of us on our river crossing technique, and that really meant a lot to me, seeing how well Norm handled his horse and how much he knew about horses generally.
After crossing the river a couple of times, we lost the trail for a little bit but quickly bushwhacked our way back to it, and before we knew it, we came to the junction of the low-water route and the high-water route—past the scary narrow section! We didn’t have to ride it, and there was MUCH rejoicing—at least on my part. I think even Norm was relieved, because I know he didn’t relish the thought of turning around or backing up on that trail.
I did start to get cranky again because we hadn’t stopped for a rest for a few hours, we passed up one spot that might have been sufficient to camp, and it seemed like we were just going to ride for hours longer.
We did encounter another pack string coming out, and although they had the right of way and we had plenty of room to get off the trail for them, they moved off the trail and let us past. Very kind of them!
Soon, we came to a turnoff that lead down into another area with good camping. Although there were a couple of camps set up in that valley, we were able to find a spot further along in it and set up our own camp. Our ride was a bit shorter than the day before, around thirteen miles, and it took us about five hours with a couple ten minute breaks.
Third camp dry fork Blackfoot River
Third camp hill to West
Third camp, morning looking East
Third camp looking South
Third camp saddles under tarp
08-07-08 Trail Map
08-07-08 Elevation profile
I think we all know the routine by now so I won’t describe it again. Supper tonight was cheese-filled tortellini with margarine spray and canned brown bread again for dessert.
For the first time, Bill and Norm set up solar showers for us and it was so nice to scrape some of the grime off. I didn’t try to wash my hair because it would have taken too much water. Also, I didn’t get into the shower until at least 8 pm, maybe later, and I didn’t want to go to sleep with wet hair.
The mule deer were especially prevalent and rampant that night. Bill had an audience of 5 does while he took his shower. He commented he was posing for “Playbuck” and we all had a good laugh.
Since we had come quite a bit further than we originally planned and there wasn’t a good fishing hole near our camp, we talked about our plans for the rest of the trip. One option would be to stay camped in the same site another day, and just do a day ride up to the same waterfall that Laura had ridden past on her trip. Another option, the one we picked, was to ride back the next day, take a day off for some sightseeing then go to the game range (Blackfoot Clearwater WMA) for a day ride the day after sightseeing. That would then leave Saturday free as well, either for resting or sightseeing.
Riley was very unsettled that evening, so we tied him in a different location, thinking that he might just not be comfortable where he was before. It didn’t really work, and he continued to move around a lot all night.
That night I didn’t hear any wolves, but the mule deer kept cavorting through camp. Norm’s tent was only about 10 feet away from mine, and deer kept going between them.
Unfortunately, Riley was still very restless when we got up that morning. Norm made us breakfast—eggs, bacon, and biscuits—and then we did the usual routine of taking down camp and feeding/watering the horses. Riley wasn’t interested in drinking, then eventually stopped eating grass. He also refused pellets, and kept stretching his hind legs in an odd manner. We think he was tying up (azutoria). Since Banamine is an anti-inflammatory and fever reducer, we went ahead and gave him the last dose. If we had any doubts about our plan to come out of the back country that day, poor Riley’s attack eliminated them.
Bill and Angie had a bit of excitement with Lucy, too. She managed to get herself tangled in her drag rope. Angie was able to cut her free, and Lucy ran over to Bill and put her face in his chest. Then she kept dropping and rolling, but it seemed to just be a release of nervous energy and she was not colicing. Thank goodness, there weren’t enough doses of Banamine for any more episodes!
The Banamine took about an hour or so to start helping Riley, but he got interested in food again and even wanted a drink. We all felt like we dodged another bullet so at that point we saddled and packed up and headed out on our final leg back.
Fifteen minutes or so into the ride, we came up to the cabin again, and Norm got a picture of me holding Riley’s lead rope while still riding Apache. After that quick photo op, we continued on and then passed our first night’s camping spot. The ride back seemed a lot easier than it had going out, although I will never love trails with drop-offs on the side. Going out we traded one narrow section for another, but I was actually able to talk some even in those sections. Before I was so terrified I couldn’t talk.
Lalita on apache with Riley at North fork cabin
The part that made me the most nervous that day was when we ran into other pack strings. Bless their hearts, every single one moved off the trail or turned around for us so we didn’t have to do it. One of the pack strings was a USFS trail crew—they were the ones that had to turn around. It was really interesting to watch them turn each horse individually and then lead the horses down about a half mile where they could get off the trail for us. This crew had also removed the tree that was down on this trail going out—the one we had to lean out around to get over. I was most delighted about that, although I think after everything else I’d ridden, it wouldn’t have been nearly as big of a deal as it was that first day.
We covered those last seven miles in just a bit over two hours, and before we knew it we were back at the trail head. I survived! I did it! Ok so only because at times I HAD to but what the heck.
bobmarshall080709
bobmarshall080709_elevprofile
Part of me really wishes we could have stayed out longer, just because I was finally getting more relaxed and starting to really enjoy it a lot more. I’m really glad though we didn’t stay out for a few reasons. First, we had two horses get sick and we were out of medicine. Our luck was not likely to hold if there was a third incident. Second, my body was aching. Although I can ride for several hours at a time one day, I’m not used to riding several days in a row, especially while terrified and bracing in the saddle. Third, the elevation and reduced oxygen had really made me exhausted. Although we didn’t know it at the time, there was another good reason. The next day there were 80 mph winds that started up in Glacier National Park and were moving south through the Bob Marshall Wilderness. All those dead snags (dead trees with no branches left) would have been falling over and limbs would have been falling out of those trees that were alive. I don’t think the tent pegs we had would have been nearly sufficient to hold our tents down in that sort of wind, and I would worry about the horses trying to keep their balance on those narrow trails with the wind pushing on them like that—especially if they came around the end of a ridge and got smacked with the full force of the wind.
After getting the horses unsaddled and unpacked, and letting them get a drink from the water trough at the trail head, we loaded up and started on the drive back. On the way, we stopped at Trixie’s, a diner just outside Ovando, never mind we were filthy and had hat hair. I swear that was the BEST cheeseburger ever.
Once we got to Norm’s, we unloaded the horses and our stuff, and collapsed for a bit. Norm, workaholic that he is, started checking his voicemails and emails and went down to his office. I was pretty much worthless the rest of the day. I napped, I ate dinner, I slugged, I called David, and I went to bed!
Our original plan for the next day was to go to Garnet Ghost Town. After we got up, Norm wanted to get some work done so I set up the tents and sleeping bags to air out. Norm lent me his Tahoe to go to town for some tourist shopping and I stopped by some really cute stores, including the quilt store and the Polaris dealer. (Looking at the Victory Visions they had in stock made me a bit homesick.)
Another Victory Vision
I also sorted through a bit of the equipment, gathered all the foodstuffs and carried them over to the kitchen. The dishes needed a good scrubbing, so I set myself to that task, and I took the tents down and rolled up my sleeping bag. Norm put his sleeping bag away the way he wanted it.
It turns out we didn’t make it to Garnet, but I was busy enough all day, and tuckered out by that afternoon that I didn’t mind at all. I was glad to get the work out of the way. Angie invited me to go with her and her friend to the indoor arena they ride at so I got to go on a girl’s night out and visit with more horse people, always a good thing.
The next day we went to the game range (Blackfoot Clearwater WMA) with Bill and Angie, and Phil came along and rode Riley, who had a full recovery. We parked the horse trailers in a large open pasture next to a gate leading into the interior of the game range. Norm brought Sadie, his Australian shepherd, along with us that day. We accidentally left her behind with the horse trailers, but she caught up with us.
Bear sign
Sadie and Flint
Norm, Flint and Sadie
Here we rode on a two-track forest road. Although there were trails marked on the map, they were very grown over, and in some cases non-existent. Norm and I were at the front again, but Phil and Riley were further back. Apache still wanted to be right up with Flint. We saw an elk by the side of the trail, but I couldn’t get my camera ready fast enough for a picture so I missed it.
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The terrain was a lot easier, and the road was wide enough that I wasn’t afraid so I actually got some pictures. After we rode about three miles or so, Norm decided we’d bushwhack up the side of the hill to the other forest road about 400 feet or so above where we where. We switch-backed and snaked our way up so that it wouldn’t be too steep for the horses, and we stopped and rested the horses a couple of times, too. There were lots of trees down, and bushes to skirt around, and all the horses handled it no problem. I was still relaxed enough to ride one-handed, using the other hand to hold the camera against my body to keep it from flopping. (I had the neck strap around my neck, but it was long enough to let it flop around.)
Apache ears
Looking back
Bill and Angie
Lucy and Phil on Riley
Up on the higher rode, Norm passed out some blueberry cereal bars and Apache had to take the lead for a few minutes while Norm rode down the line handing out the bars. It didn’t take long though and Flint was back in front.
Down below us, along where we had ridden earlier, we saw a group of elk. I did get a picture but they are tiny and blurry so it’s hard to tell that’s what they are.
Tiny blurry Elk
Eventually, as we neared the end of the ride, Apache decided he actually did want to lead so out we went for a few. Now his wild hair didn’t last long, maybe five or ten minutes, but he seemed well content to do so for that short time.
Our total ride length at the game range was only about six and a half miles and took us less than two hours. The horses were tired enough though that it really was a long enough ride.
Clearwater080711
Clearwater 080711 elevation profile
My last full day in Montana was spent packing up and visiting Garnet Ghost Town. Garnet was a gold-mining town started in 1895, and became a ghost town by the 1950’s. Over half the town burned in 1912 and was never rebuilt. There are several building remaining, some in surprisingly good condition thanks to restoration efforts that started in 1970. There are two saloons (one is the visitors center), mercantile/general store, hotel, stable, blacksmith shop, jail, miner’s cabins, post office, and various personal residences. I spent a few hours walking around, snapping pictures of all sorts of things—even two layers of peeling wallpaper in the hotel. I have this fascination with architectural details and small remnants of anything.
Welcome sign
overview sign
Town from above
Miners cabins
Dahl cabin
outhouse Dahl cabin
Hebner cabin
plague outside Kelly's saloon
log cabin (front)Hanifen house...swap piccy
Davey's store
sled and barrels in Davey's store
cash register in Davey's store
Dahl saloon (visitor center)
Well's hotel sign
2 layers of wallpaper Well's hotel
dinning room Well's hotel
Well's hotel staircase
kitchen Well's hotel
bathtub under stairs Well's hotel
bureau and dressfitters form Well's hotel
common quarters Well's hotel
chaise lounge parlour Well's hotel
stable
saddle and yokes in stable
farm equiptment and bridles in stable
blacksmiths shop
bellows in blacksmiths shop
jail
jail window -original ventilation and light
collapsed cabin
mine shaft entrance - partially filled
town from behind
Adam's house
three seater jaunty angle Adam's house
adams house three seater
lid on third seat of three seater
post office
stove inside Kelly's saloon
inside kelly's saloon
pie safe in kelly's saloon
side view kelly's saloon false front
view past first miners cabin
Our weather every day was warm and sunny, with highs somewhere between 85 and 95 °F. The nights were cool though, probably getting down into the mid to low 40’s. I slept in a pair of sweat pants, a long sleeved shirt, and very heavy wool socks. My sleeping bag is a mummy style, rated for –20°F. I was never too warm at night, but neither was I cold. Even after coming out of the Bob, the weather held for the rest of my stay and although much windier than I expected, it was also much drier than Missouri. The lack of humidity was wonderful!
mission mts(left) swan mountain range bmw (right)
he next day was the day I returned home. Coming home was bittersweet. I was very anxious to see David and the rest of my family and friends, but I was going to miss my newfound friends in Montana. It really was the experience of a lifetime, and I am so glad I got to go. I genuinely thank everyone that made this trip possible from the bottom of my heart. I doubt I ever make it back up there, but who knows? Even five years ago I’d have sworn there was no possibility of me ever riding in Montana.
Lalita Creighton
July 2008
