A Montana 9/11

Things have been a flyin' round here for a few days...

Sunday morning this fella stopped by for a visit and roosted straight up above our roof. I hadn't grasped the significance of it at the moment. Just thought what a beautiful creature he is.

Now, it seems a bit appropriate on this day... for his feathers to be a little bit ruffled doesn't it?

On this day, as American Bikers demonstrate their loyalty to the Nation in Washington I can only say to those who revile us; If you Don't want to feel the bite of the Eagle's Talons... Don't preach his destruction...

We will never forget.

For with beauty and serenity and treasure such as this...

...That Eagle will never surrender to bigotry, hatred and pseudo-religious stupidities... He will always soar high above us, reaching for truth, justice, courage and integrity.

He will always aspire to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.

... those are the Ideals of the Eagle.

Later, below our camp we watched the Osprey...

 It struck me how fitting it is that they are both fishermen...

The world is a place of insanity it seems. But, if you stop and look around you see the truth. Good people working hard and doing good things to overcome the stupidity of the pseudo-leadership that humanity has been cursed with since the beginning of time.

Those men and women put the politically co-opted religions aside; they reach down and with true Faith, take the hand of the one who has fallen and lift him up; be he black, white, yellow, red, brown, female, sick, broken, poor, rich, spirit broken or faithless... They DO the right thing.

That is the power of this land. Not our weapons, our constitution or the phony talking heads that populate and contaminate the propaganda media and government. Our Power is, and always has been... the people in the street. People inculcated with a Lust for Freedom.

People grown with a Heritage of reaching for the impossible.

People who accept their faults but Never stop striving to be better.

Those that speak of the demise of the Eagle should take care. Don't watch the useless and irrelevant baboons that populate world government and world leadearship.

Watch the American People. THEY are the True Eagle.

The power in this world is and always has been the man toiling with true Faith and reverence, to care for his family. He hasn't time for your games. He has work to do. As long as he retains hope that he can do his job and care for his children he will stay at that task. If however you and your sorry excuse for "Causes" threaten the safety and welfare of that family; IF you damage his hope for a better future for his children and grandchildren... IF you attempt to impose your twisted philosophies on he and his...

... Beware the wrath of the Eagle.

Toiling Under the Montana Sky
Brian

Backroading on Foot in Montana

Past this camp runs a road that if followed takes you a few miles up to another mountain jewel called Marshall Lake. Along the way are several other choices to wander. Just a short way above us is an old logging road that's been closed off...

We parked up there and then walked in. The road mostly follows the contour of the ridge high above Lake Alva and Lake Inez that we're camped between. They sit below, hidden in the timber.

If you don't make too much noise the locals won't just disappear into the timber... this pair didn't seem too shy...though I must say, this breed of "Chicken" has never been known for being possessed of a superior wit!

The view from up there is pretty fine. If you look across the valley below, where the Clearwater River flows... you're looking at the Swan Mountains that form the western side of the Bob Marshall Wilderness. I'd mistaken them for the Chinese wall... but... peering at a map a lil' closer... that sits another drainage east, on the other side of the south fork of the Flathead River.

The Big Sky Country... Montana... even the name fills your eyes...

Past years those mountains have been as crystal clear as the lakes they hold... this year, with all the fires, there's a blue haze... but even that adds to the mystery and impact of these mountains. It's a glorious place and a testament to the wisdom of the Boss.

He was smart enough to know... Those mountains belonged in Montana.

... and smart enough to know that while I belong here in the summer time... I'm a gypsy that needs to be warming in the desert... when all this is under six feet of snow!

Under Wild Montana Skies
Brian

Along The Clearwater River in Montana

I may be getting lazy in my old age. We've got some "Stuff" coming up in a couple weeks that I decided we needed to stay "in contact" to prepare for... so a camp with decent signal was required.

In Western Montana... finding a camp with that signal is pretty iffy. Don't misunderstand, there's no shortage of good camps. Just finding a communication signal is often a hard go. It kind of frustrates me now and again to be regulated by worryin' 'bout signal... but... ya gotta take care of business if you want to keep things together... so I just deal.

Honestly? I think I just lacked the initiative this time to stop and hunt for a camp farther north... figuring it would take a day or more... with no guarantee of finding a camp I could connect from... and I have some work that needs doin'... so... I kept rolling... 

Well... we knew of a camp a bit farther south than we really wanted to go just yet... down on the banks of the Clearwater River maybe ten miles or so north of Seeley Lake.

But it's a FREE boondocker camp (which fits our budget) and it's got signal... so we just rattled and rolled along and pulled off the highway with fingers crossed, hoping and hoping... and it was TAKEN! :(   ... aw fizzlewraped crud punching son of a bowlegged sea gull!

 

Well... Though I'm a lil' hesitant to crowd in on other folks in the boondocks... this spot has enough space I felt comfortable enough to pull in off to one side and leave them other guys with their tents plenty of room. :)  That and... I was feelin' kinda cranky!

A couple of Timber Cruisers are camped in "Our" spot, on the other side of this lil' meadow for a few days. They're working a timber inventory on a tract of land just back west of us a few miles...

The front yard here is  a pretty fair bit of Montana scenery... and one of the signs of a healthy stream are the frogs...

They're kinda like canaries in the coal mines... The lil' hoppers are real sensitive to a dirty place, so when they're still around it's a good sign...

If you followed this crick Heidi called it... to which I corrected her; "THAT is not a crick... it's the Clearwater RIver!" ... "Really? It's not much of a river!" ... anyhoo... if you followed it back around there to the left...

... you'd cross under a lil' wooden one lane bridge... through a shallow bed for a few hundred yards to the lake it pours out of ...

* Lake Alva*

Another one of those pretty lil' jewels that dots the Montana mountains... Nothing prettier than one of these places at a quiet sunset... or with a Loon calling in the first grey of dawn... just an awesome place is Montana.

We walked up along here from camp for a ways... and listened to a dad and his two kids that had drug their aluminum boat up the river a hundred yards or so, bangin' over the rocks, 'cause it was too shallow to float... so they could get to the lake without having to use the boat ramp ~ and I suppose pay the king his daily fee to float on the water ;) ~

So... they park along the dirt road behind us... and scramble through the shallows draggin' the canoe to get there. Funny thing is... they're way off up toward the far end there... and I can still hear 'em. :) So... I hope they don't think they Snuck out there onto the lake! ;) uh... it ain't no secret!

The kids have some practicing to do to paddle without thumping the side of that boat with their oars! Sounded like lil canons goin' off... a half mile away over that water! :)

If you're a fisherman by canoe, kayak, one of those lil' personal pontoon kinda boats...

...Or especially one of those float tube gizmos I see a lot of fly fisherman use...

Western Montana has got to be a heaven on earth...

Is likely why a River Runs Through It was told in this country.

If I was flush enough to fork over the Non-Resident costs of a fishing license... I believe I'd rekindle the sport in my own world...

It's often a lot more than sport I believe... floating quiet out on that water strikes me as being the same sort of quiet-in-your-own-head time a horseman or a fella on a motorcycle gets...

Last evening we did one of those budget busting deals down to Seeley Lake.

Being that I crossed into my 61st summer yesterday we decided that digging that hole we live in a lil' deeper wasn't going to be the deciding factor whether we go bust or not. ;)

So... we went down to the area's premier eatery... and had an Awesome steak. and it was A steak... They cut the buggers at 16 oz which is about 8oz more than it takes to feed me...

... so we split that rare, butter knife tender beauty.

... and then...

It's not legal to consume a fine Birthday Steak...

...without a glass of an equally fine Birthday Brew... Is it?

So... a glass of Summer Honey, sitting by the window,

savoring a rare and tender steak, looking out over Seeley Lake...

Pretty nice...

Even if it cratered the already lame budget :)


We'll be kicking back in this camp until pretty much the end of the month. It's sunny, so the generator don't have to generate... there's trails and good places close by, the lake and the river for the dogs to swim in... well Buck anyway...

... and the Big Sky of Montana is hangin' over me while I finish up Ben Jensen's latest "Situation" and start the editing... so I can get this next book published! :)

Under the Wide Montana Sky
Brian

Sonja Takes us Hunting for Fruit, Flowers and Bats in Leavenworth, Washington

They said it was gonna rain, and had in the night, but what can I say, when ya gotta ride, ya gotta ride. I put the Raider on the ground and we headed off in search of... Fruit! ;)

From where we're camped above Coles Corner you run fifteen miles or so down along the river dropping east back down to Leavenworth.

That's a pretty little town... but not one you go to if you're searching for quiet serenity. ;) Now, if you're hungry, or thirsty Leavenworth, Washington is the place to go. You can gain weight there as fast as on any cruise boat.

The Cheese place, with I forget how many different varieties of cheeses and 150 different BEERS caught my attention. Hooua!

But... on down below the town a couple miles there's a "Fruit Stand" we were aiming for... Preys Fruit Barn...

Am I just twisted? or is there truly a bit of dark humor in that name for a touristy place? ;)

The main thing 'bout the Leavenworth area that always gets my attention is the flowers. Everywhere you look are hanging baskets, window boxes and beds of bright flowers... Even on an overcast day they just pop...

We loaded up our fresh picked nectarines and apples and backtracked to another spot between Preys and the town... Heidi saw something there that's her life's ambition...

*Cow Train*

With her experience hauling drunk rednecks at NASCAR, she wants her own place where she can drive her own COW Train...

In Leavenworth we found a spot to park the scooter protected by a curb from the milling Toyotas and errant Buicks... and took a short stroll to find a turnover, a cup of Americano... and...

Bats!

If you look just above the lil' gal wearing the striped shirt... can you see a dark spot on the wall?

The boy says; "I'm gonna touch it! Can I touch it?"

Yeah, well... when a shy critter like a bat, decides to roost in a spot like that it says one thing to this old drifter... "He ain't right"

Best keep your fingers to yourself!

*Leavenworth Bats*

It's a good place to grab a bite... and a sip of something hot, or some cold brew... and then hightail it back to the relative quiet of squealing kids cutting loose in a campground! arrrrgggghhhhh.... :)

That's a skill I've got to learn... to be able to tolerate kids... squealing and playing... and being kids... Shoot me in the head should I ever get to be one of those grumpy old rock chuckin' hermits that grouses about kids kickin' it up in the woods. ;) ... and I'm pretty sure I'll live to regret sayin' that!!! :)

Yup... it's pretty lush over here on the "dry side" of the Cascades... and that's not even countin' all the wineries scattered about. ;) The hillsides are adorned with orchards and vineyards... the pastures are full of horses and cattle... the roads wind through river valleys that are filled with fresh scented wind...

... yeah... it's the small bits that keep you goin.

Brian

Backroads Are the Only Ones that Get You Anywhere...

I prefer, truck or bike, to roll on the backroads. The little, two lane... or sometimes better the almost two lane tracks through the mountains...

*The road to McGee Creek Campground*

The cacophony and commotion is left behind and below... your senses can come alive. You hear the wind, smell the sage and the pines...

Once in a while you get an unexpected view of a  curious neighbor...

Backroads lead to the places most often not on the maps... Spots as yet undiscovered by the hoards of tourists rushing from attraction to attraction starred on their AAA trip itinerary.

The quiet and slow pace sinks into your spirit and that pressure in your chest recedes. You stand on a bluff above a lake... or along the bank of a creek deep in a desert canyon... and know... for sure and for certain that THIS is your home... THIS is where you belong...

...and if you're drug back into that cacophony from which you fled... your heart will wither and you shall surely die.

A short drive above us is a road that leads back into the Sierras and a small place called Convict Lake...

Now, this is one of those "middle ground" places. It's a place not quite unfound. The fishermen flock to it in pursuit of the Rainbow's and other treasures hidden in its depths...

But fishermen make little noise... they aren't jumping around to the beat of pounding rap racket... they stand quiet or move in slow rhythmical motions... in a way they generally contribute to the spirit of the places you find them.

Even their boats move slow and quiet, trolling the waters...

We walked the three miles and a bit along the trail that took us 'round the lake. From sage into tall pines, maybe a Sequoia or two? ... into Aspen and back into the sage... all nestled just below 8,000' in a glacial valley.

*Through the big trees at Convict Lake*

*Convict Lake*

The snow melt is still running. It comes in through the Aspens below the high peaks at the west end of the lake... the rushing of the water carries across the lake...

The stony beach there is a nice spot to sit on a log for a while and just soak up the high country sun.

The light on the mountain changes as you circle around, seeming to give you a fresh face every few steps. Care has to be taken that you don't lock your eyes on the glorious peaks around you and step blindly off the narrow track.

Up in Mammoth Lakes, as you leave the town there's a sign that to me is an echo of John Muirs words; "The mountains are calling and I must go." ... it says; "Going to the Mountains is going home."

*Convict Lake, California*

I remember Yogi Berra was once quoted; "When you arrive at a fork in the road... Take it."

*Take the fork...*

I'd advise that you listen to the man... it just might take you down some glorious Backroads...

... and home again to some soft sunsets...

Find your road... and follow it.
Brian