Montana Bound

Smith Rock State Park

After we hiked back out of the Seven Lakes Basin, our backpacking group began to disband. Vera headed south to California and a couple hours later I dropped Rebbie off at the Bend airport.  My next destination was Skull Hollow Campground, located close to Smith Rock State Park.  I arrived in the afternoon and the entire southern horizon was filled with a menacing dark cloud.  I had initially thought I would go explore the park that afternoon, but thought better of it given the weather.  It ended up not raining much, but the winds sure did arrive and illustrated one of the few scenarios where a rooftop tent may be less accommodating than the ground.  The wait was worth it though, as the following morning was a gorgeous day and perfect for a hike.  I would highly recommend Misery Ridge Trail for any incline enthusiasts who also enjoy great vistas.  

The view while climbing up Misery Ridge
The multitude of rock faces attract a large number of climbers

As I drove east on US Hwy 26, I was reminded of Oregon’s geographic diversity.  Images of densely wooded forests or rugged coastlines may first come to mind, but after a morning amid dramatic rockscapes, I was now driving past stately ranches, barns with big bales of hay, and cows indulging in a bounty of lush, green grass.  Soon the landscape would become more dry, undulating and rocky.  I drove until I reached the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument.  

John Day Fossil Beds National Monument

John Day was a fur trapper from Virginia who explored the Pacific Northwest a few years after the Lewis and Clark Expedition in the early 1800s. He is apparently most famous for being robbed and stripped naked by native Americans near a river mouth that now bears his name.  Due to well timed volcanic activity, many plants and animals between the late Eocene (45 million years ago) to late Miocene (5 million years ago) were nicely fossilized in this area.  Ash and debris from different volcanic eruptions resulted in layers of varying color and composition, such as the red ash in some of these photos.  I completed another hike here in order to fully appreciate the geology of the area.  Once again, there were some afternoon clouds in the distance that looked a little rainy, so I hiked at a brisk pace.  Afterward, I continued driving east and after a few hours had arrived in Idaho with enough time to find a campsite, prepare dinner, and settle in before nightfall.

John Day Fossil Beds National Monument
John Day Fossil Beds

A brief stop in Boise revealed it to be as pleasant as I could have imagined, and so onward I continued towards Sun Valley and the Sawtooths.  I figured there must be an appeal to the area.  Hemingway had lived in Ketchum at the end of his life, after years down in Cuba and Key West.  The author of the book I had just read about the Portola expedition resided in nearby Hailey.  Not to mention the mountain resort and ski scene in Sun Valley.  Perhaps because of these expectations, the first part of the drive was somewhat underwhelming.  Expansive fields of amber colored grass had their own sort of beauty, but I was looking forward to more mountainous terrain.  

Finally I caught my first glimpse of the Sawtooth range and immediately understood its name, with a long row of jagged peaks splitting the horizon.  The Salmon River began weaving in and out of view from the road, little sparkles of light dancing along its surface, the occasional fly fishermen gazing upstream.  I approached my destination of Redfish Lake and promptly realized I was far from the only person with this idea.  All the spots being full, I continued northward past Stanley.  I began seeing signs mentioning dispersed camping for the next several miles, which at the time I interpreted solely as the presence of scattered campgrounds.  Being a Friday in the middle of summer, and in the year of the pandemic, the next several campgrounds I drove past were all full.  Finally I came across a spot far enough from civilization that it had some spots.  The site was located right next to the East Fork junction with the Salmon River.  Some of my favorite sounds to fall asleep to are associated with water – rain drops steadily tapping on the roof or the soothing rustle of a flowing river.  The sound of the nearby rivers carried through the air crisply as the night was otherwise perfectly quiet.  I took advantage of the clear night to try my hand at some astrophotography, but even the subtle clicks of my camera seemed to disturb the almost silence.  

Small glimpse of the Milky Way from central Idaho
Bluff over the Salmon River. Big Dipper visible on the left.
Same bluff the next morning.
Entering western Montana and the landscapes seemed to grow wider by the mile.

The next day I made my way further east through Idaho until I reached Montana, then started heading southeast towards Bozeman.  I encountered the same problem with full campsites, and as I despaired about my next move, I came across an explanation of dispersed camping.  “Great!” I thought, no reservation necessary, I just needed to venture a bit more into the wilderness and find a plot of open land.  Going off a tip from a helpful internet forum, I headed up toward Squire Rock, passed the campground, and then drove another 5-6 miles up a dirt road until I started seeing suitable spaces along the side of the road.  I wasn’t picky as it was nearly dark and I was relieved just to have a place to stay for the night.  For the second night in a row, I was lulled to sleep by a mountain river, this time the Gallatin.  

Beehive Basin Trail, bursting with color
Montañas de Montana
Beehive Basin Trail
Lava Lake
Gallatin River at the base of the trail to Lava Lake, after finishing my second hike of the day

The next morning I headed a little farther up the road to Big Sky.  The only other time I have been there before was the winter of my freshman year of college when a group of my friends met there for a ski trip.  

I called my friend, Charlie, who had spent many childhood and adolescent summers in Big Sky with his Uncle Chuck, who still lives on a ranch outside of town.  Charlie quickly oriented me to my surroundings, using the highly visible Lone Mountain in the distance as a reference point.  He made a quick call to his uncle, and then within minutes I had an itinerary of two hikes, a brewery, and a restaurant. 

Thus, with no time to waste I shot up the road to Beehive Basin, a beautiful trail bursting with wildflowers throughout.  On the way back down the trail, I looked over to my right and stared at Lone Mountain, where Big Sky ski resort is located.  Even in the summer, you can still see the ski runs due to the pattern of cleared trees.  I only remember one run’s name from the mountain – Mr. K.  I scan the center and think I’ve identified it.  That is a story for another time, but now this moment is connected to that, new memories are blended with the old, and I continue onward as I still have other trails to climb.