A Montana Journal

November, ca 2018 A hoot owl come visiting in quiet of early morning hours this day. Its call was a low and lonesome sound that brought calm with it as it hushed through morning mist and over new snow. So peaceful a song seemed fitting in this season of holy days, and this heart was turned thankful again for the love of the Great Creator what was laid in a stable for all humankind to behold. Family will come at Christmastime, their presence being a joyful gift. I have not died today. And that is a fine thing. Yours truly…

October, ca 2018 There was amiable company on the trail today. Good friend Bill, a tall and sturdy Texican who come to homestead in these Northern territories back in aught-four, rid with me as we pushed east over to the settlement of Bozeman. Day had already begun when we lit out and sun was sliding slowly across the bright blue above as we crossed the Divide in high mountain and made way into the Big Hole Valley. Further on, we crossed her again atop Homestake Pass what is just east of Butte and then rid hard to day’s destination. Bill, having a lovely and long-time gal in that town, made his residence with her, whilst I found lodging at local boarding house. Pleasantries of old friends and pretty women notwithstanding, we was there to fish.  Dave Williamson of Wild Trout Outfitters. Every year at this time, the big browns and bows come swimming out of Hebgen Lake and move up into the Madison, the Gibbon and the Firehole rivers of Yellowstone National Park. Th...

September, ca 2018 Was eight steadfast and determined men what rid into the Ruby River Valley that day. They come from all parts of country, and was of every age, some having been on life’s journey much longer than others. They rid the worn and winding trail down along the Tabaco Roots, and in shadow of Madison and Gravelly Mountains, through settlements of Ennis, Virginia City and Alder, and finally making way along reservoir and river and into lush valley to rein up at a place name of Ruby River Ranch. They weren’t outlaws, but they followed the One from two-thousand year past who was nailed to a tree for uttering words what angered the world, then changed it forever.  The ranch itself was some 10,000-acre of cattle and crop and river cut through. It laid out wide across prairie and sage-covered mountain, land what was perfectly and profoundly crafted by masterful touch of the Great Creator. This place was owned, I suppose, by the Creator hisself, and a kind...

Sunrise over the Sapphires. August, ca 2018 The day begun with quite the flamboyant salutation from the Great Creator as he sent his sun rising from behind them Sapphire Mountains.  Me and Ol’ Black Tahoe, my trusted steed, had lit out early morning and headed north up the Bitterroot Valley to the Lolo Pass.  Atop Lolo Pass. Caution on the trail. The trail this day would be some 200-mile going and another such returning, taking us deep into the Nez Perce Clearwater Wilderness and then beyond.  From high in them mountains, creek and river was ever present along trail’s entirety.  Lochsa River, pronounced "lock-saw." I had first perceived mile upon mile of flowing water to be a fisherman’s delight, but then changed thinking as we come first along the Lochsa, a beautiful and slowly meandering body of water with terrible high rocky banks and filled with bone-breaking boulders, some big as a buggy.  Boulders in the Lochsa. ...

Hogan Cabin in the Beaverhead-Deerlodge. Late July, ca 2018 These few days past, me and Ol’ Black Tahoe, my trusted steed, looked out over a new horizon of adventure as we trailed again into them high mountains and made way deep into the Beaverhead-Deerlodge. There’s this rugged old cabin up there what is located as close as a person might get to the middle of lonely, situated in a vast and open mountain valley some 7,300-foot up. The government built the place back in the 1920s; giving fine and sturdy accommodation to smoke chasers, trail crews, timber cruisers and others working this high country. Tho there be no water nor electric nor other common convenience, it does possess beauty aplenty in its surroundings.  Packing in gear and grub, water and whiskey, we made camp here for two night among the trees and the stars and the wild things. On arrival, I took particular note of air itself, smelling of the earth and grass and them pines what are present here in great ...

Along the Bannock Bench. Early July, ca. 2018 Like some gentle and caring mother, the sun rose up quietly from under cloudy covers to tenderly awaken her world. And I again was a fortunate witness of her morning’s embrace. The trail this day led me and Ol’ Black Tahoe, my trusted steed, high into the Beaverhead. We crossed over the Great Divide and then made our way into the Big Hole Valley. Bannack Bench. The air was a bright 38 degree as we rid a long and lonesome bench heading west to the Bannack Pass, some 7,600 feet high into them mountains.  The soul-satisfying delight of living in these wondrous territories was promptly apparent, and we paused at the crest for no other reason but appreciating the natural bounty what was spread out before us. Bannack Pass. We pushed on into Idaho and next took northerly direction along the Lemhi River. After arriving at Tendoy, a small settlement named after a chief of the Lemhi Shoshone and  nephew of Ca...

Niece Mattison's 19-incher! June, ca 2018 I write these words alone again here in this mountain valley, missing kinfolk who come visiting these northern parts most recent. Brother Matthew and his young’un, Mattison, joined me this week past on a trail what led us to the banks of the Bitterroot River and also beyond, their presence here being a joy to my heart.  We made camp along river’s edge at Otto’s Cabin, a rustic place that is to this day filled with the comfort and warmth of Otto Teller, the man who built it some years back.  Otto's Cabin on the Bitterroot River. Tho now passed, he was a man possessing a profound passion for these natural surroundings and the wild things living here and, I hear tell, quite the genuine and decent fellow.  Local folk Brett and Sherrie Adolphson kindly board travelers here in the Bitterroot and did as such for us as proprietors of bitterrootcabins.com . Theys good people and ready always to accommodate the weary wander...

May, ca 2018 The trail today took us high into the Bitterroot Mountains  to explore territories heretofore unseen by this traveler’s eyes. As sun commence its obedient appearance, we began our wanderings on the Lost Horse trail, what leads a rider into deep, lush forest and does not cease from pushing skyward until mountain’s crest. The thaw has come to these northern parts and tho mountaintops are still covered in a snowy white and creeks are flowing frothy and fast, the track was passable into them high places.  The trail here is narrow and cut into steep slope of mountainside for its ascent, threatening rider and mount with disastrous tumble should misstep be made. But Ol’ Black Tahoe, my trusted steed, did not lose purchase as we clung close to mountain’s tall side. We made our way up through the Great Creator’s handiworks of nature, and eventually come to end point of our journey, that being Lake Como, what is tucked into them mountains and offers love...