High Elevations

Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Porcupine Campground, Big Horn Mountains, Wyoming

We’re settled into an alpine campground at about 8000 ft. elevation in the Big Horn Mountains in northern Wyoming, after a steep climb up from Lovell yesterday afternoon, that Betty Subaru performed admirably in a very low gear. (We sold our old Betty Su but our new gal just seems to be named Betty as well…) We immediately changed into long pants and sweatshirts and boots since at 6 pm the air temperature was rapidly cooling down into the 50s. We ate our cold dinner (while Reed complained about not having hot food) of deli fried chicken, baked beans from a can, applesauce, and carrot and broccoli spears with blue cheese dip, finishing with storebought chocolate chip cookies.

The night was restful despite two thunderstorms that blew through, one with a fair amount of rain, and the other just lightning and thunder. It was just as the ranger at the visitor center for Big Horn Canyon said: up here you’re right with the lightning and clouds. Here in the trees there was no amount of wind to speak of so the storm seemed lovely and comforting, compared to the one we experienced Sunday night at Lewis and Clark Caverns State Park next to the Jefferson River in Montana, where the storm that blew through just after bedtime was accompanied by fierce winds that tried to take down our tent. Walt and I stayed awake for two hours holding the tent up from the inside while the rain lashed down. I was already tired of Reed’s chatter so the storm keeping him awake kept me from appreciating his good attitude about it. He sang songs loudly, asked if I’d remembered to get the suitcases off the top of the car, asked if he could help hold up the tent, etc. Finally around midnight things quieted down and we fell into sleep at last.

The food situation improved this morning after Walt and I took apart the stove (which we’d given up on) and used the wire from a twist tie to clean it out. When we put it back together and tried again it worked beautifully so instead of a cold breakfast on a chilly morning we had a hot breakfast instead, and can look forward to hot pasta this evening to accompany the hot dogs we’ll grill on the fire. Maybe even have scrambled eggs for breakfast tomorrow before heading towards Sheridan.

There is a creek running next to this campground (Porcupine) that we’ll hike along this afternoon. Some mild excitement yesterday was that the rangers trapped the black bear that had been rummaging around our camp and the neighboring camp the previous night.

After the storm in Lewis and Clark Caverns S.P. we awoke to a sunny, warm morning, perfect for the 2 hr. guided hike through the really spectacular caverns, which started with a bit of an uphill trek to the caverns entrance. The view from up top was postcard Montana, with a river meandering through a lovely green valley with steep, rocky hillsides rising on either side. Fairly dry country, there were tiny prickly pear cacti all over the place, and Walt almost stepped on a snake. He doesn’t think it was a rattler but doesn’t know for sure. Saw an old mine setup too, now rusty and sad. We finally got the car packed up after lunch and hit the road around 2 p.m., driving just about 100 miles to the KOA campground in Big Timber, where we happily stayed in a little “kabin” knowing we were safe from any big winds. Walt has always been a snob about developed campgrounds like this but even he had to appreciate having a pool, a hot shower, clean laundry, and not having to set up the tent on a blustery night. It was Walt’s first KOA so Reed was excited to show him the whole thing; it was my first KOA where I didn’t have a dog and a child with me every single minute; our previous KOA stays have always been on road trips with just Reed and me and Fiona. This KOA was too close to the interstate for comfort but it was also just down the road from the Prairie Dog Town, where we saw dozens of the “petite chien” as the early explorers used to call them. Most were pretty shy but there was one who lived quite close to the main road who was trolling for handouts as we departed. We seem to be leaving a trail of hungry rodents in our wake, since we never feed them.

We were happy to get out of smoky Western Montana, where the fires are raging. Sometimes in Missoula the smoke was so thick we couldn’t even see Mt. Sentinel. Still, it was wonderful to visit with old friends and smell the familiar enticing spiciness as we entered the Butterfly to order espresso milkshakes. Unfortunately we never got there early enough in the morning to visit with Dave Beans; we console ourselves knowing we’ll be back through in a year on the return trip. Ray Shackleton let us set up camp in his backyard and allowed us to treat his house as our own, besides treating us to Vietnamese food for dinner one night. We visited with Jennie and Blake Bucher who have lived in France before and who kindly refrained from ridiculing our poor French. Bonnie Connery and her girls took us out to breakfast for lunch at the Uptown Diner; we enjoyed an evening of catching up and drinking wine with Ted and Laura Heuchling while feasting on Laura’s tacos and cowboy caviar (while Reed and Teddy played well and only ended up scuffling over something once.) We went for a wade in Rattlesnake Creek too and afterwards went for ice cream at the Big Dipper. Steve Loken (who actually performed our wedding ceremony 15 years ago, besides being our boss for a time) fed us scrumptious omelettes and hashbrowns at his house up the Rattlesnake on our last morning and led us in typical Loken style on a brisk walk up and down the Rattlesnake, exercise we desperately needed. We left town on Saturday afternoon, August 4, and headed for Piney Campground at Georgetown Lake where we thought we’d escape the smoke but no such luck.

We’ll stay here again tonight since Walt feels so happy in the mountains and I am enjoying the solitude as well – if you can call being surrounded by frolicking little squirrels solitude, which I do.

Later in the afternoon…

After a difficult start with a whiny 6 year old we finally got a nice walk in along a tiny portion of what is a very long national recreation trail, through the alpine meadows of the Big Horns. We shared part of it with some cows, and went just as far as two broken down old cabins down by Porcupine Creek. We headed back and were caught up by a real Wyoming cowboy on a lovely horse named Chantilly Lace and accompanied by a scruffy cowdog was named Mickey, who seemed appreciative of my gentle scratching behind his ears even while he was still wary of Reed. The cowboy and I’m assuming his associates bring up the cows and calves – who bawled quite a bit when we climbed over a fence by them to keep following the trail through the rocky opening in the valley called “the jaw” - in late June and stay through September, when the snow sends them all back down to their ranch in Lovell. The association as he called it has 950 pairs grazing up here now; this gentlemen lives in a cabin or an R.V. all summer and rides to check on the cattle every day. I’d never thought much about Wyoming cowboys before but this guy has a life I have to admit is pretty good: all summer in a spectacularly beautiful place, just keeping his eye on the cows, riding his horse, only going to town every 3 weeks for groceries and dog food. Wonder if he has a wife down below, or if she comes along too. The cows, at least, get to spend most of their lives on open range in lush greenery, before getting “finished” (kind of an ironic term) on grain back on the feedlot in Lovell and sent off to market.

Porcupine Creek meanders along its rocky bottom, with a few deeper pools here and there, where there are some cagey little fish that are almost impossible to see. A shadow sends them into hiding. Lots of pretty shrubs are in the creek bottom; it reminds me of some of the dwarf prostrate sand cherry that we’ve got at home. Also there is a type of sage, I think, growing on twisted, dead looking branches, that smells heavenly, fresher and more herby than the sage that grows in eastern Washington. I’d like to fill the whole tent with it, it smells so good. The sun got hot on us while we were walking, hot enough that I wanted to slide into one of those rocky pools, if the water hadn’t been like ice, so cold that even Walt wouldn’t go for a dip and that’s saying something.