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 Cameahwait and Sacajewea,we set off to the east up and over the Lemhi Pass for the return to Montana. 

 The trail here was ragged, steep and narrow so as to be worrisome of unfortunate misstep or rider coming opposite direction. 

 But as often is the way in these high places, we was alone on our journey and so had the pleasure of the Great Creator’s splendid handiwork all to our own.
Lemhi Pass.
Heading back into the valley the temperature come up to a pleasing 68 degree by mid-day and we decided to head heavenward again into the Pioneer Mountains. I have been on many a trail here in these northern parts yet this one will stand solitary in its springtime glory. Traveling up to mountain’s peak, we passed wide and deep forests of tall, green pines that would yield time and again to open alpine meadows awash in full with the yellows and blues and purples and reds of Indian Paintbrush, Lupin, Arrowleaf and Mountain Heather. At highest point, sun took temporary absence behind dark clouds and temperature dipped in what gave way to light flurries of snow coming down softly on this landscape of color. I was struck silent by it all. And grateful to Him who made these things.

 We then headed back down the trail to follow the Big Hole River for return to current homestead here in the Bitterroot. By day’s end, we was twelve hours riding. I have come to know sure that I cannot be sated by this feast of splendor that is Montana. For even after partaking of beauty so abundant, I hunger still for more. And whilst this lifetime of mine will in no ways be sufficient to consume it all, I have not died today. And that is a fine thing. Yours truly…

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