East to the Big Sky
The Wild West in Washington, Another Big Dam, and A River
Running Through It
May 17-25, 2003
All the states have
nicknames; few are as appropriate as Montana's--the sky really is bigger,
deeper, and bluer than any place I've ever seen. Here, in the valley of the
Madison River, it seems to go on for ever.
We left western Washington on a Saturday (no room that
night in the state park in Port Townsend because of the Rhody Fest) and made
the third and final Big Right Turn of the trip. We were finally headed east,
toward home, but with a whole continent to cross.
Our first stop after crossing the Cascades
(which was beautiful, but challenging for the 40' bus) was the improbable
town of Winthrop, Washington. Improbable because it looks like a an old time
western town, the kind you'd expect to find in Arizona, Texas or in any one
of a thousand movies about the old west. All false fronts and all in the
old west style, right down to the wooden sidewalks.
Sounds
corny, but it worked. It could easily have been just another small town--a
diner, a couple of gas stations, and maybe a motel--the kind of place you
roll right through. But its consistent style and fun shops made it impossible
not to stop. So we did, and ended up staying three days.
Why, you could even ride broncos right there in front of the the downtown
ice cream parlor. Molly, as you can see, decided that a picture of her in
such an undignified pose wasn't in the cards. Mom wasn't so shy. (No, she
doesn't like this photo of her, but gave me permission to use it.)
And what could be more appropriate
in such a place than a cowboy from Maine? Remember the hat I had ordered back
in Fort Davis, Texas? Well, it finally caught up with us in Oregon, and here
it is, worn, of course, with my Skywalker Ranch shirt. You'll notice it in
a lot more pictures to come; I slept in it the first three or four nights.
Ain't this a great country?
On
the way through town, we came across a local softball game; the guys were
about my age and older (If that's possible) and they played that each side
got to bat ten men every inning. One of the players told me that it was "Canadian
rules"; I'm still dubious.
We loved this sign in the outfield--it's an ad for a local
chiropractor and says, "Nothing Beats the CRACK of the Bat!"
Mom
and Ben in a hot game of Mancala at a local coffee shop. Also nearby was
one of the most beautiful hotels we had ever seen anywhere, the Sun Mountain
Lodge. No pictures (Mary and I went there for dinner and forgot the camera)
but this is a "don't miss" place if you're ever in this area. Perched on
the top of a mountain, the hotel is a spa, hiking and horseback riding center
in summer, and skiing destination in winter. Between the outstanding architecture
and sensational views, a pretty special place.
Another reason we stuck around Winthrop for longer than we expected was a
really nice RV park right on the river (River Bend RV Park), run by nice
people who had a son just about Ben's age. The one drawback of a trip like
this is that the kids are stuck with each other and (horrors) their parents
for companionship, 24/7.
Ben and Jason immediately hit it off, as you can see from
this picture of them trying to kill each other. It's not clear whether Molly
is trying to pull Jason off her brother or encouraging him to do as much
damage as possible. My bet is the latter.
From
Central Washington, we continued east through Spokane, where Mary found the
very house where her parents had lived in 1942 while her dad was in basic
training for the Army Air Corps.
On the way, we had a quick stop at the Grand Coulee Dam, which, while
not as dramatic as Hoover, is nonetheless an amazing sight. The best part
was a film (narrated by Mainer Jack Perkins) on the history and politics
of the project and what it brought to the Northwest in the way of flood control,
power, and irrigation. Any bets on whether it could be built today?
Our
next stop was Missoula, Montana where we stayed at--
Here's Mary at this fun RV Park, actually one of
a chain, mostly in the Midwest, at which we found miniature golf and the
nicest restrooms and showers, bar none. (Hey, these things are important).
And what would a visit
to Jellystone be without a picture with Yogi? Molly was a little reluctant;
maybe she's afraid this will show up on a bulletin board at her wedding.
And it might.
Here's
an old friend of Mary's from Calais, John Haven and my new friend Russ Fletcher,
both of whom live in the Missoula area. John makes amazing kaleidoscopes
and Russ runs a non-profit working on increasing high-tech opportunities
in Montana. Bet you didn't know that those flowered shirts were a Montana
thing; and who's the guy in the cool hat?
And then we came to Channels
Ranch, one of the long-fixed destinations of the trip. Channels is located
in Ennis, Montana and is owned by a group of fly fishing enthusiasts, mostly
from Texas, It's managed by Bill and Connie Owen and Connie, like Mary Ickes
in Oregon, grew up with Mary in Milwaukee, from age one through high school.
What a place. On one side is the Madison River and Ennis Lake; on the other,
rolling hills rising to snow-capped mountains. The kids loved it (we'd still
be there if Ben had his way); horses, dogs, cows, and this incredible sense
of space.
All this and cable TV; who needs a city?
See
what I mean?
Here's the Madison, flowing north (I can't get used to
rivers flowing north) to meet the Jefferson and the Gallatin in the town
of (what else?) Three Forks. This is the headwaters of the Missouri and the
place where Lewis and Clark had to start walking. (Did you realize that the
whole time they traveled west on the Missouri, they were pushing upstream?
What a project, and they hadn't even seen the Rockies yet. Undaunted Courage,
indeed.)
And here's the whole gang; that's Bill on the left, getting chummy with my
my wife. The dogs arfe [this is a typo, but it seemed so appropriate, I thought
it should be left in] Sadie and Grace. Really nice people--and dogs!
To be on the Madison and not
go fly fishing would be like visiting Maine and skipping the coast. It is,
quite simply, the most famous fly fishing river in America, if not the world.
So while the kids, Mary, and Connie went on a trail ride into the mountains
(they saw a bear), Bill and I floated the river. We didn't have much luck
(at this time of year, the runoff muddies the water) but managed to hook
a few and certainly had a great time. A bad day fishing still beats a good
day at most anything else.
Now,
it wouldn't be quite honest to leave you with the image above; I'm not that
good a fly-caster and did spend some considerable time (as at left) untangling.
Maybe it was the hat.
My
thanks to Bill for choosing to preserve this particular moment for posterity.
Next
stop? Well, you guess after taking a look at this clue. See you next week.
