Big Hole Valley

This was perhaps the most productive day yet on my trip. After our Blodgett Creek hike we headed south on US Highway 93 out of Hamilton through the towns of Darby (where gasoline was ten cents higher), following the 9000-plus peaks of the Bitterroots. I stopped once again at every historical site, as this is where Lt Clark rested on his way back to the Missouri before his trail got lost at the Loss Trail visitor’s center at the state line.

I had thought of taking a mountain pass road east across the Beaverhead Mountains, the Skalpaho Pass, but decided instead to continue south on USHwy93. It was a good decision. The mountains here looked taller and whiter. Mount Trapper, at over 10137, overlooked us all. It’s the tallest peak in the Bitteroots.

My left foot’s ankle had gotten a reddish hotspot and I was now wearing my tread-worn Timberland sandals that have seen better days years ago. Skies were blue, it was in the mid-80s and the scenery was bucolic and rural. Several hillsides had been denuded from forest fires, yet the peaks still had snow and creeks still meandered along our route. Logger trucks were my only obstacle. Most of the traffic headed south into Idaho.

I stopped at the Lost Trail Visitor’s Center along the Idaho border at 4:30pm, but this time didn’t think much of going into Idaho although the peaks sure did look inviting. A Harley rider I had spotted at a historical marker waved at me, but he soon left after smoking his cigarette. I left shortly thereafter, toward the Big Hole Battle site of the Nez Perce taking MT43 eastward, who were attacked by the 7th Infantry in August 1877.

It was after 5pm when I arrived at this free historical site and got to see the last showing of the day of this battle. Although the initial mission was to round up the sleeping Nez Perce, what happened instead was that over 100 sleeping women and children were killed by bullets. The documentary the National Parks Service made of this battle was accurate.

Of the over 20 people in the theatre with me, not one then drove down to the battle site to walk the various trails. I took my pamphlet and walked all three trails, despite fighting a relentless swarm of mosquitoes the entire time. The trails are worthy of exploration but once again I witnessed the lazy American traveler seeing only things they can see from the comforts of their car. Unfortunately, the National Parks Service caters to those kinds of tourists.

Kevin would have enjoyed touring this site. I could see him wandering the area and imagining the 7th Infantry running down the hill and attacking the sleeping Indians.

The Nez Perce Camp Trail was 1,2 miles long, as it meandered along a willow tree-hugging creek to 89 replica tipis of the sleeping Nez Perce. The tipis of Chief Joseph and his brother contained prayer cloths. Yellow Cloud’s tipi, further away from the Chief, was barren.

The site of the tipis was quite sobering. Hugging the valley’s creek, the Nez Perce had no chance against the attacking infantry although 29 US troops did die in this battle. They attacked from the nearby hillside, which I visited next after admiring a crane family and its chick, a few picahs and some warblers. I’m sure had I waited a few more hours I would also have seen moose saunter through these wetlands.

Two shorter trails, each .8 miles long (r/t) were just as sobering. A quick walk to the captured howitzer, then the siege site both were worthy of the uphill huffing; one could see the eastern valley below and the sweeping Big Hole Valley. To my south were the Beaverhead Mountains, whose peaks were over 10,000 feet tall.

I was at this battle site for 90 minutes and logged in another 2.8 miles. I was tired and hungry and ate two spinach tortillas to stay alert as I continued the drive. This valley was deserted, and that is why the beauty of it was so overwhelming. Despite a few cow farms this valley was almost like it was when the battle occurred. Every curve of the road brought forth another picturesque image of Montana.

I stopped briefly in the pioneer town of Wisdom, named after one of President Jefferson’s three virtues. The town’s welcoming sign boasted that it was the town of “10,000 haystacks” at an elevation of over 6107’ Did someone actually count them all? The town must have an ordinance regulating the town’s buildings: they all resembled pioneer homes of darkened brown structures. The few exceptions were the businesses on MT43. The town’s saloon, the Cordover, displayed an oversized painting of a voluptuous Indian woman.

Despite my hunger, I did not stop to eat here as now I was captivated by this wide, green valley of grazing black cows and distant mountains. There were no cars along this route, which had been the most deserted road for me yet.

The sun was now angling low over the Bitterroots, casting its last powerful rays over the green hillsides. The colors were dramatic and I stopped a lot to photograph barns, haystacks and sparkling creeks. Every time I rolled down a window another swarm of mosquitoes would attack me.

The valley closed in on me after 44 miles as hills around me got closer and the sun began to squeeze herself out of the picture. I was still 12 miles from Divide when I found a BLM-managed campsite along a creek ten miles east of Wide River for $6. What a godsend! So this is how we happened to camp out here for the night, under the setting half moon and distant lightning in the far east. I took site #22, across a camper with a loose-running little dog that kept coming over to our side of the trail. Another man had what resembled a white army tent spread out, which surely wasn’t easy to erect. A group of kayakers had a camp fire going and several other tenters were already in the dark before I even started to settle down to write my trip notes.

I only drove 153 mles today, a perfect distance as almost 30 miles of that was in and around Hamilton alone. I won’t be that lucky for the rest of the roadtip as the days are now less than 25 remaining for this adventure.