“How beautifully leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days.”
~ John Burroughs
“Autumn…the year’s last, loveliest smile.”
~John Howard Bryant
“How beautifully leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days.”
~ John Burroughs
“Autumn…the year’s last, loveliest smile.”
~John Howard Bryant
…then I’m happy to share. Here’s a splash of color, the final hurrah, from my garden.
Have a lovely day!
❤ Find the beauty. ❤
It’s amazing to me, still, in spite of that last quarter mile. It’s one of those things that catches people’s attention, even though they might not try it themselves. It could be the act itself or the timing. Regardless, I’m still in awe. It was our vacation Day #3, the reason for this trip, and it was FABULOUS.
We hike in Oregon on a regular basis, and over the past few years, we’ve seen several old fire towers; in fact, The Husband likes to choose our hikes based on whether there’s a tower up top. Returning to a certain spot in Montana had long been on his bucket list but I didn’t hear about it until more recently. At first I thought, “What are the chances?” He learned last year that someone there organizes hikes of this very area, including Mt. Henry. By the time he found out, it was too late to plan a trip.
Well. He’s never been one to give up.
While in college The Husband was the lookout in a fire tower one summer–about seven miles from the Canadian border–for three weeks. It was a summer job with the Forest Service for which he came all the way from Pennsylvania. The destination: Mt. Henry, Montana (P.O. Box: In The Sticks). Nearest
town area: Yaak.
The eye wear takes us back a bit as does the car, but that’s another post. Answering a Penn State ad, these adventuresome college boys headed west. They were 20 years old and the year was 1968.
This year’s vacation location turned out to be Montana. We were going to see The Husband’s fire tower atop Mt. Henry. Wondering where Yaak is located, I checked a few maps and see it is quite close to the Canadian border. Do you see Yaak in the center near the top?
Here’s a closer view below. The top red X is Yaak, the bottom red X is Sylvanite. The Ranger Station back then–where he lived when not in the tower, when he worked on the roads–was located in Sylvanite. The arrow points to Mt. Henry. The horizontal line near the top is the border, and the area is in the Kootenai National Forest.
We looked for the Ranger Station in Sylvanite and found a few remnants:
And, finally, Mt. Henry is on the right of this map and Yaak at the bottom.
The reason for this trip: to see the fire tower where The Husband worked in 1968. The hike: eight and a half miles.
July 29, 2017; the day was finally here. We rose early and had breakfast at The Dirty Shame Saloon. You read that correctly (and, while the Yaak dining choices are few, it didn’t disappoint. Click the link to see Chef Floyd’s plate-sized huckleberry pancakes).
After breakfast, we met in front of the Yaak, Mercantile (across the street from The Dirty Shame) at 9:00 a.m.–we were Mel, Edwin, Jessie, Amy, Heidi, The Husband, and myself. Oh, and Juan, Heidi’s dog–to caravan to the trail head. After meeting everyone, I had a really good feeling about this hike. I felt energized. I was very glad we decided to go.
I used to backpack and hike and run for exercise. Crabby knees and achy feet now slow me down, but I refuse to sit home and watch life pass me by. With brand new custom inserts, I was ready.
And, nervous. When The Husband was here in 1968, he came across a mama bear and her three cubs ON THIS VERY TRAIL. I’d heard this story many times, and, while he knew to back away and did so without incident, it can go horribly wrong. We reviewed bear safety before the hike, but I was still nervous.
It was with trepidation that I hit the trail, but to my delight, no more than 10 minutes in, I realized something that blew my fears out of the water. We were seven and a half (there is safety in numbers), we were chatty (bears don’t like noise), and three of us had bear spray (no guarantee but I felt a helluva lot better having it). Once I relaxed about our furry neighbors, I was able to enjoy this beautiful hike. I could sense I was with a fabulous group of people and I wanted to get to know them. I hung on to that good feeling. And, oh, what a beautiful area.
Several rests were much appreciated.
Part way up we found the most delightful lake.
Here is that same ridge 49 years earlier, and a view of the lake from the ridge top.
As we hiked along I was quite impressed by the passion I heard from my hiking companions. Passion for the environment, that is. Several of them, maybe most, are part of a group, work for a group, or volunteer with a group whose aim is to protect and preserve the Montana wilderness. I happily hiked along, kept an eye out for bears, but smiled as we ascended, impressed by their passion, knowing this land is in good hands.
Before I realized it we were near the top. I knew the last quarter mile would be steep, but didn’t know the hike was rated “difficult.” I so appreciate the team effort in the group to stay together. These people are caring hikers and I smile now to think of their good hearts.
We hike on a regular basis. I have done “difficult” hikes. The final ascent was a challenge, but once I found a tree and dehydrated myself, and once we began to see portions of the tower–THE REASON FOR THIS TRIP–I could not contain my excitement. I paced myself and kept moving. I would see that tower, I would go inside, I would see the look on The Husband’s face, 49 years later.
It was impressively breathtaking and worth every single step, now and then:
The door was “secured” with a loose board, so, we took advantage:
A bit windy up top, Jessie had to spot Mel so Mel could get the next photos of Bruce and I up top:
And, while up top, I spied Edwin enjoying the view:
Here is the tower in 2017 and in 1968:
He did it; he made his way back 49 years later. He accomplished something he’d been wanting to do for a long time. It was a fabulous day on many levels. While up top, we lounged on the rocks for lunch, took a rest, and wandered to absorb the view. I took off my socks and boots, just because. And, of course, photos of each other:
And the best part: GROUP SHOTS!!!
While it was very tempting to stay, all good things must end. Besides, we knew we had something very appealing awaiting us down trail.
The trek down was just as lovely.
We each were ready for the cooling freshness of that beautiful lake; some swam, some dipped.
Shortly after, we reached the trail head once again, and, along with tired feet, I believe collectively refreshed and happy to have visited a gorgeous area and to have found new friends in these wonderful hikers. It was a dream come true for one and a beautiful hike for the rest. My cup is full.
Thank you all, new friends, for a fabulous day.
Photo courtesy: Heidi J., who graciously shared her photos of the day. Heidi took the group shots at the top. Thank you, Heidi! ❤
Hike: Organized by Jessie. Thank you, Jessie. ❤
Turns out, this year’s vacation in Yaak, Montana included a couple of unexpected but altogether charming places. On our first full day we saw the Yaak River Falls and the Kootenai River Falls, places one could easily call A Little Slice of Heaven. If you’d like, you can see photos of the Falls, this year and from 1968, here.
Why, you might ask, did we go to Yaak, Montana–in the middle of no where–for vacation? I’m getting there. Remember that charm I mentioned?
Take a peek inside the dining hall of the Yaak River Lodge.
If that’s not enough to help you digest breakfast, how about this:
I honestly hadn’t noticed the cats because (I was tired, and) the big black beast held me captive. I had to get a close up of those eyes (and those teeth).
Breakfast was served and we were not disappointed. The coffee, ready at 6 a.m., did not disappoint, either. Owners John and Dallas were most gracious hosts.
As I sat enjoying this wonderful meal–we didn’t have much of a dinner the night before so I was feeling quite satisfied–when I happened to look up, straight across the table.
There was another; I’d missed most of the smaller animals in the room aside from those most obvious. Something told me I’d better start paying closer attention. I was in Montana, after all.
Our room, the last one at the end of the hall, was so quiet one began to think everyone had left the planet. We live in the country, and we are used to quiet, but this? This was eerily quiet. And, just the ticket.
The lodge is on the right and does not include the buildings on the left.
Above are the grounds behind the lodge.
It was lovely and peaceful and quiet and refreshing–possibly a little scary in the dining hall–but well worth the time we spent here. About that dining experience: as explained by the owner, breakfast is served in the lodge during the week. On the weekends, they serve breakfast at the saloon (in Yaak, two miles down the road) also owned by John and Dallas. That meant that on Saturday–the day of the event that brought us to Montana–we had to eat breakfast at the saloon. The Dirty Shame Saloon.
I can’t say I’ve ever had breakfast in a saloon. I can’t recall the last time I was IN a saloon. Back home we call them bars; the last one I’d been to was when I was in college. We weren’t sure what to expect. Turns out, The Dirty Shame was a delightful breakfast experience.
We were the only customers. I really liked that. We had our own personal chef. Floyd is his name and he knows how to cook a pancake:
No ordinary pancakes, these were huckleberry pancakes, and they were fabulous. I never order pancakes in a restaurant, but Bruce nearly always does. I tried a couple bites. I ordered a ham and cheese omelet our first morning there–yes, we ate here twice–and scrambled eggs the second. Neither day did I leave hungry or disappointed. Floyd, you made two fabulous breakfasts. Thank you!
You may have noticed that they think big around here. Below is my second breakfast here, but note the butter. It is served by the slab for the pancakes.
I was asked whether I’d like hazelnut or vanilla flavoring in my coffee. I declined and said, “No, just plain, thanks.” I meant black, but he thought I meant cream without flavor, and promptly brought out a half gallon carton of half and half and set it near my plate. They don’t mess around here; they aim to please. I thanked him and smiled.
As I looked at the table and remembered where I was, I felt a little giggle inside that threatened to break the silence. As time and place are everything, I could only smile once again:
My orange juice was served in a plastic Coors cup.
The choices are few for food in Yaak; there is nothing else on the main road either way unless one is willing or able to drive to Troy or Libby, some distance. In Yaak proper, below, one must dine at The Dirty Shame, buy food at the Yaak Mercantile, or eat at the other saloon next to the mercantile. That’s it.
As we finished our meal in the company of a darned good cook and a delightful host, I thought, what a (dirty) shame that more people don’t know about this place. I don’t know if we’ll ever be back, but if we return, I know where to get a fabulous huckleberry pancake.
Next post: Day #3 and the reason for this trip.
Until then, Cheers!
On July 27th we left the house at 7:00 a.m. Destination? Yaak, Montana. Why? My husband wanted to return to the place where he’d spent the summer 49 years prior. What could possibly lure him back to the middle of no where, that many years later? Stay with me; it won’t disappoint.
Fast forward to this summer. We arranged to stay in Yaak–there are very few options–but we were not disappointed in our lodging. In fact, the area has quite the history. More on that; stay tuned (it won’t disappoint, either).
Day #1: Arrival at the Yaak River Lodge, 10 hours from home. After a snack we moseyed down to the river behind the lodge. This is the first sign I saw. Suddenly it was hard to swallow. That’s when I heard: “Be aware, Karen, not scared!” OK, “I can do this,” I thought. Wait…are those bullet holes in that sign?! “Don’t ask!” I heard. Breathe. And again….
Who said that?!
We saw no bears, but it was breath-taking and serene and calming and quiet and amazing. It was still. I felt peace. It refreshed me and as I stood along the bank, I felt inwardly energized and uplifted. I am forever amazed how nature and all its creations can be so empowering (if not a little scary). I guess they know how tempting it is to stay right there in that spot; other than the ground, there was no place to sit.
A short walk along the river, watching the deer dart away, standing in the cool breeze…it was the perfect treat to end a long day in the car.
Day #2: We set out to find the Yaak River Falls and the Kootenai River Falls. It’s really hard to describe this area, to find accurately descriptive words. It was so still and serene that as I stood right here, below, the tears flowed. I was mesmerized. I didn’t want to move.
Here’s what it looked like in 1968 when my husband caught sight of mama moose and her calf:
What was fun was watching my husband take it all in, to see this wondrous place once again.
Yaak River Falls, then and now:
Up the road we found the Kootenai Falls. What we didn’t know was what we’d have to do in order to get there.
The trail led to this walkway that crossed over train tracks below. As we approached, so did a train. I froze as it zoomed below. I could not bring myself to stand directly above a moving train; I stood to the side (I’m guessing that’s when my legs locked). We bounced to the rumble below, and I clung to the fence wall. Others stood directly above effortlessly taking photos. I stood aside, trying not to throw up. I blurted out, “This thing is bouncing!” and the lady next to me said, “Wait till you see the other one. ”
Once the train passed and I could unlock my legs, we continued along the “trail.” Once over and down the other side, this is what we saw:
Take a look at those stairs. I heard, “Don’t look down!” Right. I just finished BoUnCiNg up there and they say ‘don’t look down’? Are they ballerinas? You can see the ground…not good for the
weenies faint of heart. Oh, well; onward. At least I had the sense to wear good shoes. Sensible shoes. With my brand new inserts. As the mother of two Eagle Scouts and the wife of a former Scout Master, I was prepared. On second thought, for females (who have given birth) who dare cross, Burlington Northern should provide a box of Depends. There should be warning signs. I might have to write them a letter.
Finally, the Falls. We could go left, or left. Got it.
Huh? Left or left? Right. I mean left. We veered left.
And, what’s this about a Swinging Bridge? I just bounced and now they want me to swing? Someone around here has been smoking funny cigarettes. As one with a healthy fear of heights, I was feeling pretty darned proud of myself for having just
crossed bounced over a moving train. I was beginning to feel a little bit invincible….
…until I saw the teenage boy who, on his way back, began jumping up and down, right in the middle. That’s him, below. I’d considered crossing until his antics blew that to H E double match sticks (God BLESS you, young man!).
But, oh, what a view. I took this shot from 20 feet out. It took me 30 minutes to get there, but, whatev. I pivoted left and snapped a shot; I pivoted right and snapped another. I quickly turned and
knocked over the lady behind me headed for the entrance.
Backtracking along the same trail (are you confused? You should be), we veered left (or was that right?) and found a better view of the Falls.
Gorgeous, fabulous, peaceful, beautiful, amazing, breath-taking…none of which adequately describe this area. Maybe they all do. Either way, guests stood silent, watching, studying, taking it all in. It was a little slice of heaven.
Given it was in the low 90s, we headed back to the trail head for a cool one:
And that was the end of our first full day in our little slice of heaven.
Next post I’ll show you our lodging, the “area” where we stayed for three nights, and share a bit of local history. There’s a reason they don’t tell you BEFORE you arrive…but, when in Rome…I mean, Yaak.
What do you think of the scenery?
On Being Asked Whence Is the Flower
It isn’t May, and these aren’t rhodies, but they are beautiful. I had to share. Enjoy!
The rest of the poem is at the end.
This is where we sit each night, to regroup, share a meal, and always a few laughs. This is my haven, my preferred place in all the world. Right here. Outside. Breathing in the fresh air (when the farmer next door hasn’t just spread manure).
Sometimes, when tractors have stilled and farmers have quit the day, we hear a different kind of music:
I hope you are lucky as well in that you have beauty in your life, each and every day.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes,
I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods,
Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook,
To please the desert and the sluggish brook.
The purple petals, fallen in the pool,
Made the black water with their beauty gay;
Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool,
And court the flower that cheapens his array.
Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why
This charm is wasted on the earth and sky,
Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing,
Then Beauty is its own excuse for being:
Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose!
I never thought to ask, I never knew:
But, in my simple ignorance, suppose
The self-same Power that brought me there brought you