A road less traveled

Part 1 of 2.

I went on a short scouting expedition for elk this week. My destination was a series of natural meadows located deep in the fir and spruce forests below the Salish and Whitefish Mountain ranges. Typically, I would have a bow in my hand in that it is bow season. As it turns out, I regret no being able to bow hunt this year, in that I did jump up about eight elk on the fringe of a small meadow, but couldn't get a picture. I may have found elk, but I also managed to get myself virtually lost. Even with the aid of my GPS, I was forced to come out a couple of miles away from my truck. I guess I needed the exercise...and a few extra ounces of blood withdrawn for the mosquitoes that were prevalent in this area.

Here are a couple of photos I took along the way.

This was exactly the type of terrain that I was looking for. There are about two dozen of these little openings scattered amoungst this rather dense and annoying forest. In places, you have to walk a half a mile around a spot just to move a couple hundred yards forward. It was thick!

Something Different...Something Fungusish

This was a very interesting find. This rotten cottonwood log harbored a forest of its own. It was interesting watching minute insects navigate the forest of tree like fungi, moss and lichen. I would have taken more photos...except the mosquitoes were carting off my blood by the gallon.

A small swamp in the timber. About a thousand or more years ago, most of these little openings were nothing more than small holes in the earth filled with water. From a birds eye view, the sheer glacial power exhibited in eons past is awe inspiring. Now, all the channels and cracks have naturally filled in and what were once lakes and ponds, are now meadows. In a few hundred more years, these openings will be swallowed by the forest. (If left to nature)

A road less traveled. I knew this road was here, but my goal was to stay inland and do all my walking across country. After missing my target route out, I was forced to head overland away from my truck for this road. It was getting a bit late in the day and the last thing I wanted was to fight strange territory in the dark. The mosquitoes would have decimated me had I been forced to sleep in the bushes.

A pesky Grey Jay. Not the greatest of photos. I was in motion while shooting. I tried many times to get a photo of her and her annoying mate in flight. They drifted and cackled along with me for almost half a mile. I was tired and I am sure that the dozens of squished mosquitos on my arms and face made me look like a bloody, walking corpse...but I wasn't far enough gone to provide these hopeful scavengers a free meal.

Twas a good hike. Now if I could only find those meadows again. Even with the aid of a GPS, I had a heck of a time getting anywhere or knowing where anywhere was.

A road less traveled.

Part 2 of 2. On the drive back I decided to visit Bootjack Lake, a lake I used to fish and swim at as a kid. It used to be a secluded little lake, mostly locked up by private land owners that allowed people access via a nasty and scary four wheel drive road. I haven't been back to this lake since I was 16 years old...and that occurrence cost a child hood friend the engine of his first vehicle. Shortly thereafter, the private land owner closed all access and proceeded to sell off parts of his land to developers who sought to make this little lake into a private community.

Fortunately for some, the Fish Wildlife and Parks had brokered public access to the lake some years later and the lake can now be fished by the public. Unfortunately though, the public that seems to use it is a horrible, irresponsible lot. Trash, debris and vandalism are evident virtually everywhere. That, combined with the houses near and around parts of the lake, pretty much turned me off from ever visiting it again.

On the way up to the lake, I nearly ran over this little gal as she hobbled across the road behind her larger sister and mother. I couldn't really tell, but it appeared as if she had been struck by a car in the past...or perhaps got into a tangle with a fence. Either way, her rear left leg was in poor condition, appearing fractured below the knee. Winter or predators will most likely claim her before the year is out. But she was still a beautiful specimen and a good excuse to pull out the camera.

Bootjack Lake

A few more of Something Different

Regardless of the quality, I found this one interesting. I shot it in low resolution and slowed things down just a little bit. Interesting....

It is still an attractive lake, and I wouldn't mind living on it...but for fishing purposes, I would still prefer to sweat and bleed a little first. It makes the fishing much more appreciated when you have to earn it. Surprisingly, I didn't even take the time to string my pole...

Labor Day Weekend. 1 of 3

Labor day, 2009. This was a very challenging weekend for me. This weekend was to be a benchmark towards the rest of my life. In itself, this particular weekend holds no meaning for me other then the fact that at this time last year I was contently and blissfully living in Oregon working towards what at the time I thought was the true American dream. Through faults of my own and events that at the time I had no understanding of how to control, I found myself adrift in the world...homeless, single, unemployed and with very little to show for years of hard work, dedication and dreams. From there on out it has been an uphill struggle during which I have refused to let events shape who I am...instead shaping the events around me.

I have few regrets and despite a few false starts...regardless of having missed another opportunity and finding myself adrift yet again, one full year later, I am confident and proud of what I have overcome and who I am.

What better place to express that but by visiting my very own personal cathedral. My brother Scott and I had decided to hike even further into the Bob Marshall wilderness to get above where few people on foot will travel. We didn't quite make it as far as we intended, but I am confident that we can make it at least five more miles up without too much difficulty. But that will be a journey for another time. Fall has hit the highlands and in a few short weeks, fall rain s and winter snow will lock this region up for the next eight or more months.

One mile in. A different look at a scene pictured in a previous post. Note the haze in the air. A small fire triggered by what must have been a lightening strike the night before created a slight smoke screen to soften the light. It rained quite heavily the day before and though blustery and brisk at 50 degrees, the day dawned promising and with us on the way to paradise.

A gentle slop, straight into the 40 degree water. Morning dew made even this treacherous. This shot was taken about 2 miles up from the previous picture looking down stream.

Time for breakfast and time to break out the fishing gear and start fishing up. Our goal was to make it about six or seven miles...but unfortunately we only made it about five and a half. I guess that is what happens when you hike to fish. You spend too much time fishing and not enough time hiking. In this case it was a good thing. I was a tired pup by this time and the day was still very young. The farther you walk in...the longer you have to walk to get out. I am not as young as I once was and am twice as old as I sometimes think I aught to be.

Brother Scott, de-hooking one of many hard hitting trout.

Another truly great cutthroat trout. This fat ol boy sat patiently while I pulled the hook and then proceeded to slap me three times in the face before doing a dive back into the water. I guess he was camera shy. I think I did more damage holding against dry clothing vs letting him slam against the rocks. Check out his color and sheen. This is yet another example of a healthy fish in a pristine environment.

Something Different...something wet and something shaggy.

The photos from here on out and the photos in the next two posts were taken during the walk back. The threat of rain, falls and water kept the camera thoroughly stowed out of reach in my pack.

Clamouring up through a crack in the rock. This is definitely not an "easy" place to fish. Amazingly we have been in here four times this year, covered a few dozen combined miles of trails and have seen very little bear sign and no bears. That is a good thing and it is a trend that I am more than willing to continue.

More in the next two posts....

Labor Day Weekend. 2 of 3

This string of shots took place while we were hoofing it on the way back. I didn't really have time to stop and shoot at all that I saw that interested me. As is usually the case, my need to get from point A to point B usually outweighs my desire to examine what I see in passing. Sometimes I take a second to click a shot and sometimes it even turns out. Other times I see things that I would love to stop and study and it irks me every time when I walk on by. My eye seeks out those things that are different and at the same time belong exactly where they are. I find what I am looking for without even realizing that I am looking and in looking back...I realize that I am fortunate to actually see what it is so many others miss.

Above, a tiny little micro environment crammed into a very small space. On one side a raging torrent of water that scours virtually all life from the rocks. Above, a dark, foreboding forest of fir and brush. To either side, a bare realm of naked rock scraped clean by wind, rain, snow and sun. And yet here, sheltered between two boulders and fed by a tiny little spring I counted some odd twenty species of plants, lichen and moss doing exactly what they were meant to do.

Can you imagine trying to skirt this when the rock is wet? Basically you don't. If it rains you have to climb out of the canyon and risk the jungle of downed trees and brush to find your way out. Navigating this type of terrain is pure stupidity when wet.

Just around this bend, I slipped and got my foot wet without taking the time to shake it off or step in grit for traction. Within three steps I slipped and fell flat on my back amongst the sharp boulders. If it weren't for my pack on my back I would have either busted more vertebrae or fractured a rib. As it was, I nearly re-broke my arm and buggered up my neck and shoulder. It just goes to show that each step you make, regardless of the path you take...whether from where you have been or to where you go could have more meaning than you intend. Step lightly and step sure.

Coming upon the final stretch during the route back. Just around that crevice is ground that we have traveled before. The going is easier and the distances are straight.

Something Different...Something Blue.

A little perspective. It is easier going from here on out. Passed this point, the fishing isn't quite as good, the fish aren't quite as big and there are more footprints in the sand. Regardless, it is still one of my favorite places on earth to be.

Labor Day Weekend. 3 of 3

A look back towards the way we came from. From here on out it was easy going. A mile of river rock and a mile or two of easy going trails made for a blessedly pain free walk. The rest is old news as they say, and consist of areas that we have already fished and photographed.

The top side and last outcrop as seen from a previous post. It looks a lot different from this side though. It just goes to show that the effects of geology, water and time look different from every angle.

Something Different...something yellow.

A little more something about a whole lot of nothing. In some ways, nothing is better than just about everything and some things are all about nothing. For me, I always breath easier, stand taller and think clearer when surrounded by nature. Any time you can look over everything and see absolutely nothing...you have found a good spot and have hopefully created a good memory. Though nothing earth shattering occurred during this experience, it is still one of the highlights of my recent years. It just goes to show that good things can be found if you only take the time to find them. Despite the fact that this particular spot has been logged and is highly trafficked by campers, boaters, rafters and hikers it still remains fairly pure. Its distance from the main thoroughfares and the ample variety of recreational opportunities are ideal for ensuring at least a small buffer between here and one of few remaining true wildernesses left in the state.

This is why I am proud to be a Montanan.