Dipping Our Toes into Idaho

Sunday to Tuesday, September 14-16

Leaving Montana, we drove south to Butte, then west to Anaconda--both giving a brief taste of Montana's mining history.  Butte sits in a very attractive setting, but one whole side of the town is a huge open pit that rather overshadows all the natural beauty.

Near Anaconda, we turned off on a Mapquest-recommended route.  As the road narrowed, and soon there were no lane markers of any kind, we started to have more than passing thoughts of hapless travelers sent off on unmarked roads and uncertain fates.  It was a scenic drive, though a bit clouded by these thoughts.  Fortunately, it was only 22 miles, so by the time we got to the point of voicing our concerns and talking about whether we should go back and take another route, we started to see signs of civilization again and--even better--regular, marked roads.

We wove our way through the lovely Big Hole Valley, following the Big Hole River and noting many fly fishermen.  We saw some deer and several osprey nests.  We even saw a small herd of antelope.  Yes, there were threads of the tune...."where the deer and the antelope play..." running through our minds, and even escaping our mouths.

At Chief Joseph Pass, where Montana meets the jutting-out portion of Idaho's eastern boundary, we turned south on the Salmon River Scenic Byway. Almost immediately, we could see a thick haze ahead of us, with obscured views of the mountains.  We soon realized we were seeing evidence of a fire.  As the smoke thickened, we once again were wondering if this was a good choice of route.  Since we continued to encounter cars coming from the south, we assumed there was no problem with road closures.  Also, we were now at a point where to reverse our route would involve hundreds of additional miles, so we pressed on, even as our eyes started to feel the smoke.  We finally arrived at the area of the fire and could see the smoke plume directly.  It was on the other side of the hill from where we were driving, and we saw no evidence of people evacuating.  Eventually, the smoky air became less dense, but the hazy conditions followed us all the way to Galena Summit.

Another Mapquest suggestion for our route south was to turn off the Scenic Byway and take a Forest Service road.  Apparently, this is what Mapquest calls a more direct route, but we decided to take a pass on that recommendation.  One of our rewards was catching sight of a white-tailed deer fording the Salmon River.  

Just south of Challis, we saw a large orange road sign with flashing lights and orange flags that warned of bighorn sheep on the road.  Since we had managed to escape bighorn country in Glacier and Waterton without seeing any evidence of bighorn sheep, we took this warning with a grain of salt.  Soon after, however, we saw a man with binoculars watching a hillside above us, so we pulled over to do the same.  These light brown creatures are quite camouflaged on the rocky slopes, but we did eventually see a bighorn ewe and several yearlings.

As we came into the Stanley Basin, we caught our first sight of the magnificent Sawtooths.  It was very hazy, but they're still an impressive range.  

We climbed over the Galena Summit (8701').  This view is looking back north over the Stanley Basin.    

We headed on toward Ketchum.  It had been a long day, so we quickly settled into our room and headed downstairs to the patio in time to have dinner while watching the sun set.  Fall is a lovely time of year in Sun Valley.  The aspens and cottonwoods are just beginning to turn bright yellow.  The area is quieter than during its two peaks of summer and ski season visitors.  The days are warm, and the nights cool.  We planned to spend only 1 day here, sampling the hills of Warm Springs and Elkhorn and the rather fairytale existence that is Sun Valley.  Jerry was born about an hour southwest of here, and he has many memories of coming to this area and fishing the Big Wood River with his grandfather during his family's frequent visits.  It was a brief but sentimental visit.

Finally, it was time to aim the car toward home.  We had heard of yet more wildfires popping up along the route we had thought we would take to Bend, so we opted to simply drive straight through and sleep in our own beds again.  It was a long day on the road, but after coming through some smoke and haze, we were rewarded with watching the sun set to the west as we came through the Gorge.  What a lovely road to bring us back home.

Visiting Helena

Friday and Saturday, September 12 and 13

We hated to leave Waterton, but we had reserved a room in Helena and needed to hit the road.  It was time to start the journey back home.  With a couple stops to feast our eyes on the lakes and almost-endless panorama of mountains, we headed the car southward.

The drive was prettier than we had expected.  After the showy, mountainous landscapes we'd just departed, we feared almost anything else was going to seem rather lacking.  But, in fact, the scenery was quite dramatic in its own way.  

Waterton refers to itself as "where the mountains meet the prairie."  Indeed, we could see the Rockies for much of our drive, but we were now gazing out on endless miles of snowy prairie, which not only fully realized that expression for us but also helped to define Montana's moniker of Big Sky Country.

As we left the mountains behind and got nearer to Helena, we drove through a stretch of highway labeled as scenic on our roadmap.  It was much more lush than the prairie, and the snow had never made it to this area.  We loved the velvety contoured hills with pine trees.  We later learned that this is known as the Front Range.  Not as over-the-top pretty as other areas we'd been seeing, but very appealing all on its own.

On Saturday, we set out to see the highlights of Helena.  Years ago, I came to Helena for a business meeting.  I was very taken with its historic old town center and have for years suggested to Jerry that we should visit sometime.  It may have taken a couple decades, but we were finally doing it.

We started off with a self-guided tour of the capitol building.  It underwent a restoration about 7-8 years ago, and it is a real gem.  Stained glass ceilings and historical murals.  Sculptures and tilework.  Fabulous frescoes.  

We then explored the nearby residential neighborhoods, with their red brick and Victorian houses and inviting front porches.  All the streets were tree-lined and were a snapshot from another era.

Next on our list was a visit to Helena's cathedral.  We had read of it in a guidebook while planning the trip, but were still blown away by how beautiful it was.  It has fabulous Bavarian stained glass and lots of painted details on its arches and ceiling ribs.  It's a very large and well-appointed structure for a town of only 28,000 or so people.

In the afternoon, we drove a short distance outside town to the Archie Bray Foundation, which is a well-known clay and pottery "campus."  There are resident ceramic artists, with numerous studios and a pair of galleries.  It is a very funky place, with pieces of pottery everywhere--in flower beds, at the base of trees, in the fields, on doorsteps and windowsills.  It was interesting to walk the grounds and see the original brick-making facilities and large, round-topped kilns.  (Not too surprisingly, a couple pieces of ceramic art followed us home.)

I'm sure we missed lots of other things and places that could have been discovered in Helena, but we enjoyed our "greatest hits" tour of this busy Montana town.

Next stop Idaho, then we're heading for our home base.

Thank Heavens for the Day In Between

Thursday, September 11

There was Wednesday, the day of the snowstorm. The day of visibility of maybe 100 feet. We couldn't see the lakes. We couldn't see the mountains. The snow finally stopped after dropping more than a foot of the white stuff.

We had traveled prepared for some chilly weather, which meant we had fleece jackets, hats, and gloves. We most certainly did not have snow gear. We trekked about a bit--to get to dinner, for example--but, for all intents and purposes, we holed up.

It was all kind of interesting and exciting, in the way we all get a little excited at a heaping load of snow coming down. But we were only slated to be in Waterton the day we arrived, the day we left, and one full day in between. That was our primary chance to see the beauty that is Waterton. Wednesday, the day of our arrival in the park, was now essentially a write off. Friday would be the day to drive to Helena. We might have a little bit of time for some looking around, but not much.

That meant Thursday--the day between our arriving and departing--had all our hopes pinned on it. When we went to bed Wednesday night, we knew the snow had essentially stopped. We knew it was supposed to warm up. But Thursday was forecast to be the colder and cloudier of the two days we would be there, and Friday (the drive away day) was forecast to be the warmer and sunnier day.

When we awoke to sunshine and clear blue skies on Thursday morning, we were pretty excited. Soon after breakfast, we headed to the marina to find out if the lake tour boats were running, but didn't hold out much hope. Imagine our pleasant surprise to find the boats up and running, as if nothing at all had happened. What snow storm? We signed up for the 1pm cruise and headed off to see what other sights we might be able to visit in the couple hours before our check-in time. We had no time to waste.





There are two scenic parkways in Waterton Park. The longer of the two drives was closed with a barrier, but we could see a plow set to do something at the beginning of the road. We drove on and found the shorter of the parkways had been plowed and was "open for business." We drove the Red Rock Parkway to its end, enjoying the views of mountains in every direction. We could see that wildlife had been very busy; there were animal tracks crossing the snow everywhere we looked. The animals themselves, however, were not in sight. It seemed almost impossible not to be tripping over some of the dozens of animals that had left tracks for us to see, but we managed to see only a few deer in a small meadow.







We returned to the marina in time to get into a humming queue, including a fairly large German hiking group. As soon as our boat headed out, our guide announced that a bear had been sighted swimming across the narrows just a short way from the marina. So we started our cruise with a little detour to watch a young black bear land on the beach immediately below the Prince of Wales Hotel.




Then we sailed on down to the far end of the lake, crossing the international boundary. It was bracingly brisk--42 degrees and very breezy, sitting open air on the top of the boat. But the views were nothing if not spectacular. With the sun and clear skies, the lake was blue and the mountains were particularly showy in their coat of new snow.














We arrived back in Waterton after 2-1/2 hours, a little cold but unable to say enough but the stunning scenery we had just experienced.

We decided to see if the Akamina Parkway had been opened while we were tootling around on the lake, and indeed it had been. So out we went to its terminus, Cameron Lake, which is a striking lake surrounded by a cirque of rock walls. As we headed back toward the village, we saw some cars stopped--usually a sure sign that some wildlife has been spotted. We stayed in the line of cars, but couldn't see anything. I was sure it was either a bighorn sheep or a bear, partly because people were being pretty circumspect about staying in their cars and partly because not that many people would be so patient for a group of deer (no offense to the charming deer population, of which there are many roaming the village streets). The several cars in front of us and the cars heading the other way all drove off, so I assumed the sighting was over. Feeling quite sad to have missed whatever creature had been enthralling these folks, I looked up the ridge as we started to leave and got a short but exciting view of a black bear walking along the rocky cliff, just before he took off into the brush. Two bears in one day!

Cameron Lake








At the end of our return from the Akamina, overlooking Waterton Village




It was a day full of the most stupendous scenery, and it was only enhanced by the fresh snow that made everything even more beautiful. Especially given the rather grim conditions of the day before, we felt truly blessed to have been able to see it all.

As we came outside on Friday morning, we found it had warmed up some, but it was windy and it was very gray and overcast. We felt so, so lucky to have been able to see the lakes and mountains (and even the bears) in the sunshine and clear air. As it turned out, our Thursday, our day in between the two days of less propitious weather, was a very lucky day indeed.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Hot 'n' Cold

Sunday to Wednesday, September 7 to 10

Hot 'n' Cold...the weather, that is.

On Sunday, we left Bigfork and traveled the short distance to Lake McDonald in Glacier National Park--our resting place for a couple days. Temperatures had been running right around 80 degrees and continued to do so through Monday afternoon.

We knew the weather was forecast to worsen on Tuesday, the day we would leave and drive the Going to the Sun Road, so we decided to drive at least a portion of it while the sun was shining. (Spoiler alert: If we'd been smart, we'd have driven the whole thing, right then and there.)




It was a lovely drive, and we came back to the Lake McDonald Lodge to wander along the shoreline and savor being lakeside. People were sporting shorts and sandals and T-shirts. There was a summer party atmosphere, with people sipping their wine and brews out on the lodge porch or terraces, enjoying the lovely lake views.







Monday was another chance to drive The Road, but it was hazy/cloudy and we needed to drive that route Tuesday anyway to get to our next destination. So, once again, we chose to do other walks and sightseeing.





Mid-Monday afternoon, the wind started picking up. Soon, it was a regular windstorm, easily sustaining at 40mph or more until the middle of the night. Our room was upstairs in a house that was across a footbridge and about 300 feet from the main lodge. There's no exterior lighting once past the creek, and it was a rather spooky walk back to our room in the dark and with the trees whipping around noisily. The wind provided a lot of atmosphere for falling asleep, too.

Meanwhile, the temps had dropped significantly--between 30 and 40 degrees.

When we were departing Lake McDonald Tuesday morning, we checked on the road conditions on the Going to the Sun Road and Logan Pass. We knew it was snowing up there, and some people who had just come over the pass said the roads were very slick. The desk clerk had just spoken to the ranger at the visitor center at the pass. He had told her that the conditions were becoming quite iffy and they were experiencing freezing fog. Their recommendation was that we take the less exciting but safer southern route, and we concurred. (We've driven the Going to the Sun Road, many years ago, so we have checked that box on our life list. It seemed a bit foolhardy to take the road, just because we were there, especially when we wouldn't be able to see any of the celebrated views. Still, it was a disappointment.)

Even on the "regular" highway, we drove in snow off and on. Temps were running about 34 degrees, and it was definitely not feeling like summer anymore. The evidence of snowfall was all around us, but at least the roads were clear.

We turned off the highway to drive along St. Mary's Lake and the eastern end of the Going to the Sun Road, to see as much as we could. At the turnoff, there was a big sign saying the Going to the Sun had been closed. We made a lunch stop at Rising Sun, where they were bemoaning the loss of tour buses and other paying customers due to the closed road. We were the only people in the inn, and we had five servers at our beck and call--which allowed us to enjoy some lively conversations with a couple of the students (one from Taiwan, who was very excited about seeing only the second snowfall of her life).




We continued our trek north and made our way to Many Glacier Lodge. The lobby was jammed with people, many taking refuge from the cold temps and light snow. Again, it was a party atmosphere. But this time, it was more like a ski lodge with people hanging around the fireplace and swapping snow stories. We heard some folks talking about having driven up the Going to the Sun (same direction and timing as our own aborted trip), getting almost to the top of the pass to be turned around, then having to take the southern route as well. They were not happy campers, and we could only feel our choice had been vindicated.











This morning (Thursday), we awoke to a fresh layer of snow outside. We had hoped we would be able to see the stunning lake and mountain views from our balcony, but had to settle for the rare chance to see the snowfall along the lakeshore and the suggestion of mountains in the clouds. Many Glacier is known for the abundance of types and quantities of wildlife. Unfortunately, all the wildlife must have been hunkered down somewhere else, watching the snow fly.








Off we set for Waterton Lakes National Park (really the Alberta portion of Glacier). We were driving in fairly heavy snow throughout our 40-mile drive. The road was simply wet, but visibility wasn't great, and the trees along our route were bowed down with the heavy, wet snow. The temperature held at 32 degrees from start to finish.





We made our way into Waterton Village. We had been warned we could not check into our lodging until 5pm, but given the conditions (and all the cancellations yesterday and today), they allowed us to check in early.

Sightseeing was not really an option, so what do a couple of city slickers do in a freak September snowstorm? In this particular instance anyway, we decided to drive over to the famous Prince of Wales Hotel and have afternoon tea. (Really, you say?) No sooner did we get seated and brought a cup of tea, than our charming server told us she was going to bring us our extra pots of hot water right away because they were going to cut power for 30 minutes to clear the snow from sagging powerlines.







Let's just say they were optimistic. Soon, it got noticeably chilly in the hotel lobby, and our servers were wearing fleece jackets and heavy sweaters. An hour and a half later, the power was still out, and the hotel had no water, heat, or lights. The remaining 2 hours of tea service were cancelled, and the tables all were stripped--Jerry and I finishing our sandwiches and scones, eventually in solitary splendor. Once again, though, the odd situation made for some fun conversation with our two servers--one from England and one from Australia.








We walked back to our car in heavy snow, with the addition of some wind, causing us to eat icy snow the whole way. We were quickly covered in snow and had to do some vigorous shaking off before entering the car. About 2-3 inches of snow had fallen while we'd been inside. The roads were now covered in snow and the plows were coming out to start to clear the way.

Coming in to Waterton Village, things were getting pretty snowy.




Just to top things off, the power was now out at our own lodge. Eesh! As I write, the power has come back on, a couple hours later, though the lights keep flickering off and on. We're hoping it holds.

So, as I said, our trip is running hot and cold. The sunny and warm part was a lot nicer. This snow business is interesting, but is really hampering our activities. Here we are in an area of renowned views, and the only way we even know there's a lake here is because we've seen the pictures!

By Friday, the skies are supposed to clear and the temperature rise about 30 degrees. We're hoping to return to at least some fall weather, if not summery days. With any luck, we'll see those views before we have to head south again.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Deep Blue Waters

Wednesday to Saturday, September 3-6

On Wednesday, we drove through the Columbia Gorge. The air was clear, and the views were as spectacular as always. We love being reminded that this is one of the prettiest places on earth.

The gorge gave way to endless miles of agriculture, stretching to the horizon. Dust devils and tumbleweed, and driving in the shadows of thunderheads.

After getting ourselves to Coeur d'Alene Wednesday, Thursday was all about getting to Bigfork in Montana. We had enjoyed dining on the shore of Lake Coeur d'Alene Wednesday evening, but that was about the only view we were going to get. Jerry had a hankering to see more and suggested a drive along the lakeshore, even if it meant adding an hour (or two, as it turned out) to our day's drive.

We turned off I-90 onto the Lake Coeur d'Alene Scenic Byway, which follows the eastern shore of the lake. Sounded like just what we were looking for, and so it proved to be. We had spectacular views of the lake and got to see an area we've never explored before. We kept ooh-ing and ah-ing and asking ourselves why we've never spent time here.




At the southeast end of the lake, we stopped briefly in the charming little town of Harrison, which has old brick storefronts and a city park with a bandstand on the lakefront. It was quite quiet, though I'm guessing it's hopping during the summer season. There were several locals sitting on a bench outside the downtown post office, shooting the breeze. I noticed an impressive-looking cycling and bike rental shop, which was soon explained by our sightings of several very nice looking bike paths as we headed back north.

On our way to I-90, we took a detour from our detour by driving around a large wetland that offered wildlife viewing. We saw only a couple of herons and a deer, but the marsh itself was quite scenic, including an old barn that was very at home in its field. Just before we got back to I-90, we encountered a herd of 30 or so elk, peacefully munching in a meadow. They must be blissfully unaware that bow hunting starts this weekend. While that is for deer hunting, I think, I'm not sure they should be too sanguine.




We turned north at St. Regis and wound our way along the Clark Fork River and through Paradise Valley. This must be the quintessential Big Sky Country. Vast areas of hayfields and grazing land. The skies were blue and the land, golden. Then suddenly, there was a brilliantly blue Flathead Lake in front of us. The contrast of the dry, wheaten land and the sparkling blue lake was dramatic and beautiful.




On Friday, we started our day by setting off to find Echo Lake (a recommendation from our lodging). The journey--with pretty views to the Swan Mountain Range--turned out to be worth more than the destination. A nice lake, but, then, we'd seen Lake Coeur d'Alene and Flathead.




So we decided Flathead was really what we wanted to see and drove down the eastern shore. What a vast and spectacular lake. Though it is a lake begging to be boated, there were very few boats out. We stopped at a state park, where we could walk to the lakeside and dip our toes (mostly metaphorically) in the lake. We drove through miles of cherry orchards and past a dozen roadside stands, all with signs offering cherries but all closed for the season.

On our way back to Bigfork, we stopped at a brewpub and munched our sandwiches (and sipped our Montana brews) on a deck hanging over the lake. It was all we could do to tear ourselves away from that breathtaking view. This Puget Sound girl really misses feasting her eyes on large, blue bodies of water. Flathead is missing the saltwater air and the Washington State ferries, but it went a long way toward feeding my need for big, broad water views.




On Saturday, we headed a short way north to see Kalispell. Either it's grown a lot, or I've forgotten a lot, or some combination of the two. I've visited here a number of times, but mostly for work, which means I flew in and was transported to some venue for a public meeting of one sort or another. I may not have been too focused on the merits of the town. Today, it was full of folks and cars. Shops looked thriving and busy. There were activities going on in every city park. There was a show of classic cars in one park--a slice of our 1950's and 1960's youth; frisbee golf in another; a multi-team football gathering in yet another.

Kalispell is a good place to buy cowboy boots and hats, and lots of other ranching clothes and gear. Here is just a portion of the boots available for young girls.




On the map, I could see the very intriguing Flathead River. I've rarely seen such a textbook oxbow river, and the geographer in me wanted to see it up close. The Flathead River looks like it would be perfectly experienced in a canoe. Being fresh out of canoes--and, truthfully, being not of a canoe persuasion--we drove along it and got out to see it, listen to it, and admire it wherever we could. Here, too, we had nice views to the Swan Mountains.







Our last exploration of this area was a drive to Swan Lake. It turned out to be the perfect mountain lake, with deep blue water, evergreens reaching to the shore, and the sun sparkling brightly.





Tomorrow, we must leave these pristine lakes and gentle hills. We have so enjoyed the scenery and the clear, fresh air. It has been just what these city kids needed.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad