Peaks, Holes, and Spires; Oh My

The weather in Missoula was turning ugly...the continental hot weather finally moving north to these latitudes. 90s and 100s are not fun in an RV, even if you have shore power or a generator to run your AC. We decided to head for the high country (Missoula is at 3100 feet) and tough it out there. This eventually involved a trip up the Bitterroot Valley (Amnesia Lane for us, remembering lots of sights, but not why nor when...), old friend route 93, then crossing over to route 43 at the Idaho border, and across the Big Hole valley, Montana's highest and largest. We passed over the top of the Big Hole, following the beautiful Big Hole River, a fishing and floating mecca, to Divide, where, beyond the Interstate, down a 3 mile gravel road, we came to the Moose Creek trail head, an opening to the Humbug Spires reserve. 

As students of this blog well know, we like weird rock formations, whether in Montana, California, New Zealand, or Namibia. The Humbug Spires are the lower end of the Boulder Batholith, a Cretaceous volcanic event, 70-80 million years ago, that deposited these huge piles (and spires) of quartz monzonite boulders everywhere from north of Helena to south of Butte. The boulders were covered by volcanic stuff back in the day, which continues to weather away, revealing the weird rock formations we like. Driving around Montana, 1995-2008, we'd always admired them, but never camped among them.

But first, the peaks, specifically Trapper Peak, pretty far up the
Bitterroot, the highest in the range

It's the one on the left, atop a long gentle ridge, with a trail; I
climbed it in 2005, the week after we returned from doing the
Tour du Mont-Blanc; I've scoured our photo archives, but 
apparently didn't take any pix of Trapper Peak; hey, we'd just
done the TMB!

Now we're in the Big Hole, at its most famous site,
the Big Hole Battlefield National Monument; not
one of the more glorious episodes in US history,
as the US Army attempted to ambush and slaughter
the fleeing non-treaty Nez Perce (Chief Joseph,
et al.)

Briefly, the Army launched a pre-dawn artillery attack from the
woods on the left; the Nez Perce, camped on the right, quickly
regrouped and drove the soldiers back into the woods, capturing
some of their artillery, but, more importantly, permitting the
women and children and elderly to escape; the Army suffered
some 60 casualties, the Nez Perce some 90, most of whom were
non-combatants, of course

Site of encampment (tipis); the Nez Perce went on their way,
through Montana, Yellowstone, back into Montana, nearly to
Canada, before succombing to both the pursuing Army and the
winter; and the rest is...a very sad and inglorious history

Looking north in the Big Hole

Now among the Humbug Spires; a big one, really, just a pile of
granite boulders; from our encampment at the trail head

Signage at the trail head

Next day we did (most of) the Moose Creek trail, which leads
up mostly behind the spires

Some actual spires (monoliths), 30-40 feet high

Another formation across the canyon

Up closer

Primitive campsites here and there

Never seen so much dead fall; not a little of it on the trail

A good trail nonetheless; heavily traveled for a
BLM site

It was hot, even at over 6,000 feet, and we didn't get much beyond
the 2.5 mile mark

And the views did not seem to get better than this

Free range cattle were always nearby

Interesting place

Boondocking, Wallydocking, And Moochdocking, Oh My! (Also Some Camping...)

After arriving June 28th, we haven't strayed so much as an hour from Missoula, splitting our nights among the Rotts' valley rent-house, the Mullan Road Walmart, Bretz RV, and an East Missoula truck-stop we favor. You can't say we are hard to please. Most of the time we were camped at the Powell campground in the Clearwater National Forest, over the Pass, and just down the hill from Lochsa Lodge. $10/night for seniors, with electricity. And right on the river. We spent some time at our storage unit, some time on an optometrist appointment (there will be more), some very little time on shopping/repairs, some wonderful time with old friends (one cow's length apart), and considerable time on the trails around Powell, enjoying the scenery and some productive huckleberry patches. We expect to do some more of the same in the coming few weeks before heading back to Middle California for a couple weeks, then heading back to Missoula for the rest of August and September. And whither then? Hard to know in these times, but we're pretty sure we won't be leaving the States.

Moochdocking in Missoula

Among the curiosities: it is July 3rd, our Glorious Leader is
doing his 4th of July stunt at Mt. Rushmore, and for half an hour
this giant C17 has been circling the field above Missoula, maybe
a couple thousand feet up, lumbering along; it's a C17 that totes
Marine Corps #1 around for the POTUS, but it's a long way to
Rapid City....

Climbing wall at a neighborhood daycare

Social distancing in Missoula; a week later Gov. Bullock
mandated face masks

From the Powell campground, the Lochsa

Why the Clearwater is so clear: among its major tributaries are
the Lochsa and the similarly clear Selway

At the Lochsa Lodge; a few days later, masks were required;
even the bikers were complying (OK, they're generally of the
older, endangered cohort)

We always try to stay at historic campgrounds

Our encampment at Powell

Out hiking on Parachute Hill; last time I informed a ranger there
were no grizzlies hereabouts, I got quite a surprise (Wind Rivers,
1995)

Vicki about to embark on Lewis and Clark Trail #25

Standing for scale: this is how high they place snowmobiling
blazes

Old, old cedar

Curiosity of the day: at an Idaho Transportation site

Near White Sand campground, the actual confluence of the
Crooked Fork and the Colt Killed Creek, sources of the Lochsa;
"Colt Killed" Lewis and Clark named it because they were
starving (the Bitterrroot are famously devoid of game) and began
eating their horses; and grilled colt was on the menu

Today's Colt Killed Creek

Getting your wood in...at a Forest Service employees' residence
at Powell

Forest depredation...not beetles, now moths...and global warming

Often our hikes took us where no Google had
gone before

Vicki earning her Trail Builder Patch Class IV:
barring a path that led to a dangerously angular
and gravelly stretch between the river and road;
and pointing the way to an alternate

Beautiful river, now quite low

This was once the great ski/snowmobile blaze to Lochsa Lodge

The trail west of Powell led through a number of snags and
jumbles of deadfall

Thus

But there was great huckleberry reward for those who persevered

On To Montana

A glance at the map suggested that route 3 would give us a straight shot from the Wallowa Valley to Lewiston and then route 12, through Clearwater country--nearly home--to Montana. We should have given the map a bit more than a glance. At the top, the straight line turned very squiggly, as the road plunged a couple thousand feet down to the La Grande Ronde river (part of the Hell's Canyon system, I surmise), and a couple thousand back up. It amounted to no more than a long hour's tedious driving, a couple radiator breaks on the way back up, and Vicki's distracting herself as usual by taking scores of pix of the scenery, a few of which appear below.

Still in the Whitman/Wallowa national forest,
possibly the worst tree/cell tower yet; a redwood
among all the mature pines

At the bottom of the descent

La Grande Ronde canyon

Lewis and Clark and Sacagawea monument in Lewiston; 
Sacagawea is saying "why don't you just ask someone?"

We savage-camped at the beautiful Lenore rest area on route 12
in Idaho, with the beautiful Clearwater river in view

Next morning, June 28th, we passed the confluence of the Selway
and the Lochsa, and followed the Lochsa nearly to the border;
perhaps our favorite of all the scenic drives in the world; nearly
home

We rafted the Lochsa in the late 90s...25 Classs IV rapids in 24
miles; we were the only raft in six together that didn't dump-truck

At the Idaho/Montana border, Packer Meadow, where Lewis and
Clark camped both going to and coming from the Pacific; site of
one of our more memorable snowmobile mishaps, too

The first time we saw Packer Meadow, we thought it was a lake;
in early summer the camas flowers carpet the meadow wall to
wall; we were just a bit late this year, although a few are still
visible here

Finally, Missoula

"Home"