NEWS FLASH: Mark arrives St. Louis Sept. 30, 2000 at 11:00 AM at the St. Louis Waterfront under the Arch.
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May 30, 1805 Lewis and Clark campsite, |
Joe on the eastern slope of the continental |
[Lewis] Sunday March 23rd 1806
"... at 1 P.M. we bid a final adieu to Fort Clatsop. We had not
proceeded more than a mile before we met Delashelwilt and a party of 20
Chinnooks men and women. This Chief learning that we were in want of a
canoe some days past, had brought us one for sale, ...."
This is Dan Stephan who says he is a direct descendent of the original
Chinook Chief Comcomly who met and helped Lewis and Clark in 1806.
Now he is helping Mark recreate the journey 200 years later.
And so history repeats itself.
March 23, 2000
Paddling a 16 foot kayak sponsored to me by Alder Creek Kayak and Canoe
in Portland, Oregon, I began the Lewis and Clark return trek from the
Pacific Ocean to St. Louis, Missouri--a 3,300 mile journey.
With the blessings of moderate weather, good gear, and an incoming
tide, I made 25 miles the first day to the only camp site amid the
protected wildlife refuge of the lower Columbia River--a site just two
miles from the Lewis and Clark campsite of March 24th 1806. I gazed
long and hard. I was on my way.
This photo was taken just moments before Mark left
on his return journey following the route of Clark.
April 2000
Heavy westerly winds push me along upstream past Cape Horn, a beautiful
rocky cliff jutting out into the swirling and churning water of the
Columbia. Beacon Rock, which Clark named in November 1805, marks the
beginnings of a taste of quick current still here below Bonneville Dam.
I struggle up for a half hour to knock at the gates, and am locked
through this huge dam, in the whale chamber that creaks and groans with
floating bits. In a few minutes we rise sixty feet above the chutes,
the narrows, and the rapids inundated now by these massive electricl
power turbines. By April 5th I arrive at The Dalles, Oregon where Lewis and
Clark began their transition from canoes to horses.
This is "Cape Horn" of the Columbia River just below
BonnevilleDam..
This is a video of "Cape Horn." Click here for a short movie.
Load time = 10 min with 56K modem.
April 17, 2000
With a new friend and guide, Jon Carlson, Park Ranger for the Corps of
Engineers, Joe and I start the journey over the Rockies. We are on the
Expedition's timetable and cross to the Washington side. Blue and pink
flowers brighten the rock studded praire. Purple lupine and yellow
monkey flowers and balsamroot waken us to marmot, horned toad, and
fence lizard. The stompings and snortings of pack animals are on the
wind, in the dust of the trail. We pass Indian homesteads, sites of
villages, the unchanging scenery along the river.
April 24, 2000
I'm beginning to believe it will be a tough journey back.
Clear & warm. Green & still.
Departed 8:00 am on a slag road. Met Jon at 8:30 below John Day Dam
near the poplar grove thought to be a possible Lewis and Clark
campsite.
Much of the shoreline has disappeared under the water and it becomes
difficult to tell exactly where they traversed.
We continue toward Rock Creek. It's a tough grind on the shoulder of
Rt 14. Jon spots an extremely large and healthy coyote with red
forelegs hunting the rock walls built in the early 1900's to pasture
sheep. Hawks whistle up in the arid wind above a field of tule, the
reedy grass used by the native americans to make mats, lodgings,
containers. The bleached tufted spires sway and jostle.
April 23, 2000
A far loon's cry moaning the sun up. A long a tedious day on the
crackly praire. Cottontail. Dead meadow lark. The last oats for Joe.
April 24, 2000
5:30 am. The riot of sky. Not a cloud. Just blue breath surrounding a
three quarters waning moon. The strawberry hues of sunrise.
Untangled Joe's picket rope from saplings. Warmed by 6:30, I crawled
my weary body out of the sleeping bag. Oatmeal and a few packer's
pellets for Joe. Oatmeal and a few raisons for me.
April 25, 2000
Arrived at Plymouth, Washington across the river from Umattila and
Hermiston, Oregon. It is our planned rest stop and a welcoming
community where Joe and I will visit an elementary, cross the bridge to
visit a high school, give a talk at a community center and earn a day's
rest.
Here on April 26, 1806 Lewis and Clark, Sacajawea and her son Jean
Baptist, and 29 expedition members neared the ford of the river which
they began April 29, 1806 with the help of Walla Walla canoes.
[Clark] Sunday April 27th 1806
..we assended the hill and marched through a high plain 10 miles where
we again returned to the river....while here we were met by the
principal Cheif of the Wal lah wal lah Nation and Several of his
nation....[Yelleppet] appeared much gratified at Seeing us return. he
envited us to remain at his village 3 or 4 days....a man of much
influence.... the Indians informed us that there was a good road Which
passed from the Columbia opposit to this Village to the enterance of
Kooskooske on the S. Side of Lewis's river,...it would Shorten the rout
at least 80 miles....
[Mark] April 26, 2000
Joe gave all the Plymouth Elementary students a ride for carrots!
We crossed over the Columbia River on the bridge at Plymouth--a wide
safe pedestrian walkway to Umattilla, stopped at the High School to
visit with the seniors and were trailered to Hermiston for an evening
at the Community Center and a day's rest at Russ and Dee Dorran's.
April 28, 2000
Joe said his goodbyes to a new steer friend and we were trailered back
to the bridge where we resumed our journey. Alternating from secondary
roads to narrow blacktop we safely arrived at Hat Rock State Park. Jim,
a Park Ranger, and his wife Bobbie showed me the dangers of the paved
highway that lay ahead--rocky overhangs and a two foot narrow shoulder.
We would have to jog the fog line since the opposite side was guardrail
only with zero shoulder.
Jim gave us permission to travel the river paths. Up to Joe's belly
we wade the shoals, avoiding marshy ponds and cattails.
April 28
At Sand Point camp: a wonderfully clear night. The stars low and
bursting.
April 29
3 miles ahead, the rocky narrows on Rt 730. I dress Joe in orange. We
stay in the bar pits as much as possible. Stop traffic momentarily and
are safely beyond. The hard paved walk lasts all day, arriving at the
Walla Walla River fording place where Lewis and Clark met Yelleppit.
Steve Plucker, a Walla Walla onion farmer and local historian
welcomes us. He has two horses and private owners' permissions for our
trek over the Celio Falls Indian Trail. It will save us 80 miles.
April 30
As Lewis and Clark did, we depart today. I'm riding Diamond, or CW as
he was called as a champion roping horse. Joe has his pack saddle and a
light day load, taking a break and seeing the countryside. He and
Diamond are good buddies already.
The Jones family joins us. All fine horse people. We ride as an
even dozen. Steve in the lead, we cross the famous sand dunes. The Blue
Mountains carry snow to the horizon. A coyote guards the skyline as we
cross some soft and stumbling ground.
May 1
A long ride today--26 to 28 miles. We get an early start at 7:30 am.
Diamond, Shorty, and Joe.
Two locals, a mother and daughter join us. They know their horses!!
The Touchet River valley is unroaded--a wonder of quietude in blues and
the irrigated green of winter wheat.
Arrive Bole's Junction at 6:30 pm. An 11 hour ride. We are welcomed
by the McCaws.
May 2
A farm breakfast and good conversation!! Steve returns to his work
while Joe and I continue on the Lewis and Clark timetable toward
Dayton. Another road day. Lunch with friends in Dayton and an
invitation to a guided walk through private farmlands, continuing the
Indian Trail!!
May 3
We walk and discuss much. Solve most of the problems of the world:
Bill and George, the fording of the Tuccannon, and the sound and sights
above aged trails rutted by horses, travois, and wagon wheels. Joe fat
on wheat. Badger digs. Wild flowers.
Thank you all!
In a cold rain Joe and I complete the day, camped above the Pataha.
May 4
Arrive Pomeroy to a nice welcome from the Chamber of Commerce, Jon Van
Vagt, and Edith Cole, the present owner of the Lewis and Clark campsite
of May 3rd. A terrific dinner and a personal tour along the Pataha, the
Indian Trail wedging down the bluff, crossing a field, and again
visibly cutting toward the skyline and the Snake River at North 60
degrees East.
The things that do not change!
May 5
Day cloudy, threatening rain, but the winds have stayed slight yet
cool. Lightening and heavy rains in Lewiston.
Zero miles today. All in readiness for a deaprture tomorrow.
May 6
Praire sky. Rain showers trailing clouds. Sunshine. Breezy and cool.
Blues. Greens. Brown rocky cliffs and ragged walls along hillsides.
Cows up on the steep steps of worn paths.
Arrive Stember Creek--water, feed, and a level place to camp. 15.5
good miles today.
May 7
Birds and a cottonwood grove. The pipings and flutterings f swallows
above the tent. I am slowly gaining the pace of a vagabond, my heart
expanding with the thought.
In Clarkston Heights I picket Joe next to a stable and create a
disturbance of stallions. I move Joe 70 yards.
We are hosted by the membership of a new Methodist Church and are
introduced to some good people. Joe gives a young girl a ride. She has
no fear!
Clear and cooling. Male pheasant strutting through the high grass.
[Clark] Friday 9th May 1806
..we had all the recovered horses Cought & hobbled. we precured Some
pounded roots of which a Supe was made thick on which we Suped. the
wind blew hard from the S.W. accompanied with rain untill from 7 oClock
untill 9 P.M. when it began to Snow and Continued all night. Several
Indians Came from the village of the Chief with whome we had left a
flag and Continued with us all night. they slept in the house of the
twisted hair and two of them along Side of us.
[Lewis] Saturday May 10th 1806
..our rout lay through an open plain course S. 35 E. and distance 16
ms. the road was slippery and the snow clogged to the horses feet, and
caused them to trip frequently.... at 4 in the afternoon we decended
the hills to Commearp [Lawyers] Creek and arrived at the Village of
Tunnachemootoolt, the cheeif at whos lodge we had left a flag last
fall. this flag was now displayed on a staff placed at no great
distance from the lodge. underneath the flag the Cheif met my friend
Capt. C. who was in front and conducted him about 80 yds. to a place on
the bank of the creek where he requested we should encamp;...
May 11
Joe gets new shoes. A blustery, chilly day. There is snow and slush up
at higher elevations. We are making our way toward Orofino, away from
the dangers of Route 12.
Sandi and Gayle stop to talk. They invite us to stay the night out
of the rain. It is windy hail and overcast skies. We arrive at theri
father's place at 5:00 pm. Bud recites cowboy poetry. I offer a short
one of my own. Joe escapes his fence and spends the night with wild
horses, cattle and the freedom of eighty acres of pasture and pines.
May 13
Joe is chasing calves so we bring him in. The little scondrel is an
escape artist. I move him to a more secure corral and back to his
picket during the day.
May 17
I've been working here at Gayle and Tom Merek's mini ranch, catching up
on the chores, eating good farm food and letting Joe rest up on oats
and good grass.
We will depart from Kamiah in late May--a week or ten days prior to
the Lewis and Clark timetable. Joe and I travel a bit slower than they
did with their strong young horses, and the snows are disappearing
quickly in the mountains!!
May 18
Fence building, tilling, gardening and weeding. Cleaning out the wood
shed, the barn storage and the horse trailer. Joe has not seen a pack
saddle in a week. His churtle from his side of the gate sounds happy
and a bit amused.
Our crossing of the Rockies will be between late May and mid June. I
am looking forward to the mountains again.
May 18, 2000
We are still making our way toward Kamiah and Lawyers Creek, a week or
ten days behind Lewis & Clark's timetable. Today, Joe and I visited the
Juliaetta Elementary School. More freinds!
May 20
We stop to thank Bud Addams and trek into surrounding forest land
toward a timber sale. Logging roads taper into traprock, and farther
into ruts and dirt to the east. Test groves of pine line the meadows.
We camp atop Old Ahsahka Grade with overcast, mosquitos and burning
feet. A curious 4 pt. buck joins us at dusk.
May 21
The tent is pitched amid yellow and purple, pink and white flowers,
arched and bobbing tasseled grasses and the long leaf pines that fringe
a field of spring wheat. Woodpecker. Flicka. Pheasant.
Above the towns of Lenore and Peck, the Nez Perce praires are a
tabletop. Big Canyon Creek widens on the opposite side where Lewis and
Clark kept to the Indian Road up to the flats and across to Commearp
[Lawyers] Creek. Joe and I keep to this side, avoiding Route 12 which
is a narrow, winding and dangerous two lane highway.
The Forest Service said the mountain passes are yet impassable with
snow drifts. Both ends of the Lolo Trail are closed.
May 22
Once asked if I felt like the great solo adventurer Joshua Slocum, the
first man to sail alone around the world, I said, "No! I'm not even in
his league. In fact, I feel more like just a kid with a wagon in a very
large neighborhood!"
Joe and I are traveling from Orofino on the railroad bed. Although
log trains come down on the 15th and 30th of the month, it is safer
than Route 12, and a little more remote. Hazards include creeks and
trestles, narrow beds, tunnels, and possibly rattlesnakes.
Joe catches a shoe on a loose spike, tugs and tugs until it rips
free, straightening the six cinch nails and warbling the 3/16ths inch
thick shoe. In fifteen minutes we find an adequate camping site. Joe is
resting, uncharacteristically curled up on the ground, dozing and
nibbling grasses.
I can thank the ferrier for allowing the shoe to come off without
splintering the hoof. Joe is fine.
May 23
Bullsnakes. Garter snakes. Rock slides and granite wedges the size of
small cars broken into doors and windows.
At a creek crossing Joe slides down crumbling hardpack chocked with
cobble stones, fully aware and in full control of where he intends to
end up. Then we climb the steep rock-studded heap of railroad bed and
regain the relatively flat track. All Joe asks is to nibble long stem
grasses, a few stems of cottonwood, an arch or two of heaven.
At 2:00 we arrive at the site of Long Camp, or Camp Chopunnish,
where the Lewis and Clark Expedition stayed from May 14-June 9th 1806.
17.5 good miles today. The vet and ferrier tomorrow.
May 24
We're greeted by the Mayor of Kamiah! Mayor Bob Olive and his wife
welcome us and make it possible for us to camp at the Rodeo Grounds
near Lawyers Creek. The Nez Perce favored this creek canyon and its
widening plain because it was low and sheltered from the upper praire
weather. Vegetation grows and blooms weeks ahead for the horses, while
the runs of salmon and steelhead join the rocks and toss the waters.
I am introduced to Lillian Pethtel a local historian, long time
Kamiah resident, friend of the Nez Perce, and a learned botanist. We
begin to talk about the specifics of Lewis and Clark in Idaho and
especially their return trek in this area.
May 26
Rain. I'm going through gear, sorting, planning, minimizing.
More rain evening and night.
May 28
The rain lessens. Fog slips halfway down the valley slopes. Pines drift
into the air. The blue skies top off a dark scattering of trees.
At the cafe, loggers talk of work in Alaska, a welding crew clatters
off in their diesel truck. Baseball caps in the morning. Cowboy hats in
the afternoon.
May 29
Lillian knows her plants. She guides the development of the Kamiah
Gardens of Native Plants that will house, display, nurture most of the
specimens cataloged by Lewis and Clark. I've been invited to film her
collection.
Salmon are running early this year. As is the blooming of the
Syringa.
Perhaps Joe and I will get a jump on Lewis and Clark's departure
date of June 10th. But the Hungrey Creek segment has not been traveled
in thirty years, and has not been maintained by the Forest Service
either. It is a tangle of deadfalls, bogs, and brushed with neglect,
pinched with steep narrow canyons along the lower creek. A dark place
for bears and many slow miles.
June 1
I am invited to attend a Lewis and Clark Bicentennial meeting. A great
group with the optimism to improve the future. I am honored to meet and
talk with Allen Pinkham and Sharen Stevens of the Nez Perce.
Afterwards we go to see the wolves being raised on the reservation.
All of us embrace their wild and instinctual ways. They, in turn, lick
our palms as we hold our hands to the fence.
June 4
I am gearing up for a departure June 9th or 10th. The season seems
warmer, but the reports are of snow drifts six to seven feet yet at
elevations. Two, possibly three weeks between here and Lolo Hot
Springs. Across the Rocky Mountains! Travelers Rest by early July.
June 5
A morning filming plants of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Lillian
takes me for a jaunt across the river toward Collins [Lolo] Creek. We
talk of the specifics, the route, the flowers, and the fact that Clark
did indeed have a MULE!! (See entries for June 18-19th 1806, Moulton
Vol 8).
The temperatures have risen into the high seventies in the valley.
It is hot! Some say the rivers are beginning to fall. My new sling
melds on the rifle and we are about ready to go. Joe is fat on alphalfa
pellets, a gift from Lori and Jerry.
And thank you too Terry and Becky and Ellen and Bob and Bonnie, the
Lewis-Clark Resort, Tom Finnell, the Clearwater Valley Roundup
Association, Gary Haight of Weitas Outfitters for your kindnesses, your
help and your friendships.
[Lewis] Thursday June 19th 1806
..late in the evening Frazier reported that my riding horse that of
Capt Clark and his mule had gone on towards the Quawmash flatts and
that he had pursued their tracks on the road about 2 1/2 miles.... our
stock of salt is now exhausted except two quarts which I have reserved
for my tour up Maria's River and that I left the other day on the
mountain [Cache Mountain, Willow Ridge].--
June 9, 2000
So...if anyone asks, "Did the Lewis and Clark Expedition have mules?"
You can say with assurity, "Captain Clark certainly knew the worth of a
mule as his personal choice of a pack animal, for he had one on the
return journey across the Rocky Mountains!!"
More rain yesterday, through last night and this morning. Today, I will
say my goodbyes to Kamiah, Idaho, one of the friendliest towns I have
ever visited, the home of the Nez Perce, where Lewis and Clark stayed,
were welcomed and cared for from May 10 to June 10, 1806 at this
special Clearwater River location.
I am posting my trek plans so I won't worry anyone out there during
my crossing of the Rockies.
Depart Kamiah June 10-11
Arrive West End Hungary Creek/Windy Saddle 13-14
Establish Base Camp at Windy Saddle and
Day Hike Hungary Creek 13-15
Move Base Camp to Boundary Peak Trailhead 15-18
and Day Hike Hungary Creek
Trek with Joe from Boundary Pk southward 18-24
down Ant Hill 225 and westward on Fish Creek
224 and on up northward again to Willow Ridge
and onto Trail 500 near Sherman Pk westward
Post "Safe Arrival" on Weitas Ck Packers Bridge for Gary Haight,
Weitas Outfitters and then continue toward the Smoking Place, et al.
Three weeks in the mountains!! We should arrive at Travelers Rest in
early July, possibly the first week on the Lewis and Clark timetable.
[Clark] Tuesday June 10th 1806
..we Set out with the party each man being well mounted and a light
load on a 2d horse...we therefore feel ourselves perfectly equiped for
the Mountains. we assended the hills which are very high and about
three miles in extent our course being N. 22 E, thence N. 15 W 2 ms: to
Collins Creek. Tghence North 5 Miles to the Eastern boarders of the
Quawmash flatts where we encamped near the place I first met with the
Chopunnish Nation last fall....
June 12, 2000
Rain! Departed Kamiah by 11:00am saying goodbye to Mayor and Mrs. Bob
Olive and Lillian Pethtel. From Long Camp my compass read N. 22 East as
I ascended Fraser's Grade. Good views and "sheep out" along the upper
gravel road. Received permissions and last minute directions from the
Rupps.
"One iron and three wire gates. Close 'em all as you pass through."
A winding muddy road diminishing into a narrow grassy lane. We worked
our way up a mile, two miles and stopped a long time replacing a very
tight wire gate. I had to cut and patch. I couldn't lever the post loop
back. A half mile farther a creek bed was churned up into a rocky gully
6 feet deep and steep sided--too steep for Joe. I bushwacked a path
through the brush upstream and then back down the creek bed and up the
other side. With a hatchet and gloves I broke branches until there was
a trail. Joe picked his way along muddy ground, hidden ditches and
rolling rocks, ducking under tunnels of brush, but made it fine
climbing onto the opposite meadow and to the remnants of a road grassy underfoot
and wet with springs that turned to mire, brambles and briar.
The mountain side was flowing with water, marred by cattle paths
which we followed up and up coming and going from the dim road. With
one more gate we broke out into the open, the county road after three
hours.
Rain came down harder, drumming in sheets. Even Joe turned his back
to the wind as we stood beneath a fir tree. By 4:30 we encamped across
Lolo Creek (Collins Creek). 7.0 miles today. Intermittent heavy rains.
June 14
We are set for the mountains! Warm. Humid. Some mosquitoes. A quiet
overcast sky. Readings. Maps. Dinner. Canned stew & bread & cheese to
celebrate.
We have come 550 miles from the Pacific, 360 land miles from The
Dalles and are more than half way to Dillon, MT and the headwaters of
the Missouri River.
Norm Steadman drops by for a visit! We talk under the shelter of
hemlock limbs until 8:00pm.
June 15
It rained all night.
Joe is now a deep red roan, a mahogany, and he has stopped shedding
down to his belly and legs. It must be time to go. It is hot on the
Weippe praire.
June 16
Many flowers are out, more advanced than in that late spring of 1806:
Clarkia, blue bells, yellow pea flowers. The bear grass is high and
blooming. The sun is warm. Every once in a while we'll step through a
pine scented cauldron of air. Joe drums the hollow hillside and we
climb above to the east of Lolo Creek.
No visible tracks around the dropped haunch of an elk calf, or large
fawn, still spotted and fresh. There are hardly any flies on it. The
spine has been cracked clean and bone white. Neatly butchered it has
been dropped raw onto the forest floor.
Sweat flies are so numerous they fly right into my eyeballs. But we
are climbing and snow patches appear in the darker lower woods.
June 18
I saddle Joe with a light pack and emergency gear. MAps, cameras, and
the rifle. We find Trail 69 off Windy Saddle for our first day hike
down into Hungary Creek.
It aught to be a protected wetland! It is gorgeous. And fragile. The
creek runs free & wild, clear & cold, busily taking center stage to a
lowland of boggy meadows scattered with fallen timber. In this early
spring, the grass is eight inches high, a deep green-blue harboring
bunches of wildflowers and the flat, clear slope of water coming down
from the surrounding canyon. We travel the trail until it disperses
northward into marsh criss-crossed with winter windfall. We continue
until the chance of injury becomes a possibility. Then, we turn back
leaping the little cutstreams that gather toward the creek.
Trail 69 is easy enough to find and follow this time of year before
the thick brush weaves its magic across the land.
June 20
Departed for our final day hike into the Hungary Creek area. It is a
beautiful warm day with southerly winds and a clear sky.
We will now continue northward on Trail 500, taking the high road to
Willow Ridge Trail.
June 22
One of the toughest days we've ever had. Joe and I have been fighting
each other all day. Neither one of us are in synch; we're uncooperative
and grumpy! But the Willow Ridge trek was worthwhile. It rose into a
panorama of rocky slopes splotched with snow drift. A sky line spiked
into blue air and white cloud, the snow banks and drifts bright,
glaring, but the air scented with warm pine.
We hike up until we are surrounded by snow, adrift on the drifts.
June 27
My eye for the mountains has enlarged. I sit here in my tent sipping
coffee admiring the close and cresting foreground with its play of
light in the near leaves of low yellow flowers, half avacado, half
lime, and the hard bunch grasses that etch the rise and the embedded
white rock. Wind vibrates this small horizon past a few dead dry limbs
of firewood, a pine jutting up beyond toward the layers of farther
horizons, larger with distance like whales playing on a sea of gigantic
waves, tumbling into the mingle of mountains, sounding into the silence
of sky.
June 28
We stop at runs and rills. Things build into a jigsaw puzzle as we
figure our way out of the mountains. We keep climbing to Rocky Point
and try one last time to connect with a 500 trail down toward Lolo
Pass.
The gnawing gnats are plentiful and cause Joe a lot of problems.
They scab his ears until they bleed. I can only put antibiotic cream on
them and hope he doesn't rub it off too soon.Those gnats could eat the
brains right out of your skull.
By 10:00 pm the insects start to fall away like hot ashes. Joe is often
too tired to graze. So we make good time just to be somewhere else.
June 29
Lolo Hot Springs and a good half day's rest and feed.
June 30
Frost! No insects. An early start for lolo and Travelers Rest.
We arrive along Route 12 by 2:30 and are offered a camp behing a
second hand store right on Lewis and Clark Road!
It is Friday night and we can rest here until Monday morning. Pellets
for Joe, plenty of water, few bugs, and a surprise gift of a bail of
hay. Sunday, Dale Carter will come up from Hamilton to shoe Joe.
July 3
Black silent clouds from the NE. Llamas below the snows of Lolo Peak.
There is thick bladed grass on the drying flood plain of the Bitterroot
River. We are back amid cottonwoods, between the white stones of the
river bed and the platforms of the deer hunters.
July 7
My ankle has improved with cold soaks. I hope it holds out today for
eight or more hours.
Joe and I climb steadily until 12:30. By 3:30 we have reached Gibbons
Pass, Clark's trek up into the Big Hole Valley. A narrow single lane
road has replaced the Indian Trail. The country turns wooded, green
with walls of spires interspersed with the large flat meadows of grass,
wildflowers and creeks. From now on, after Gibbons Pass, the watershed
begins its startled clear and cold passgae to the Missouri, the
Mississippi, and the Gulf of Mexico.
Some mosquitoes. The horseflies are difficult on the eastern slope.
19.5 miles today.
July 8
This is the first time I've felt injured. My lower right shin is
tender, painful, stiff and affects not only the ankle but my ability to
raise and lower the foot. It has thrown my gait off so that now I am
tearing up the left foot with blisters. It is painful enough in the
late afternoon to make my stomach woozy. I may have to ride Joe yet.
Joe is doing well. All else is good. Fewer mosquitoes now that we
are on a semi-arid plateau of sage brush, wide skies, and rainbows that
drop into your lap.
July 13
Last evening, a mink had scooted along the creek bank--a shadow flowing
over rock, a breath held beneath the cutbank. This morning, six young
ducks wash quietly in the pool and feed in the white flowered mosses.
Some fish wrinkle the surface into orbits, some into a bulging
universe.
Chris McNeill of Diamond Hitch Outfitters meets me at the Horse
Praire Hilton...which serves the best hamburger on the Lewis and Clark
Trail!
Chris and I, Joe, Festus and Ebony ride the 9.5 miles across
Shoshone Cove to Camp Fortunate. From 2:30 to 7:00pm we travel along
the wooden fences, over prickly pear, past harems of antelope and herds
of curious horses.
Joe is back with friends and family. He brays and gazes after their
departure. Then, as easily as hot chocolate, he breaks his picket line,
kicks up his heals, and is gone.
Chris told me he would! Luckily, Joe stops at a distant fence where
I can walk up with the halter and slowly persuade him back to camp.
Oats and pellets. A gooming, and a short stout picket.
The moon is near full. At 3:00am Joe is laying down beyond his clump
of willows. The early morning is cool and quiet.
July 14
Temperatures rise into the 100's as we complete out land trek over the
Rockies back to Camp Fortunate and farther to Dillon and Joe's ranch.
It is 7:00 pm. Joe gets a corral and all the hay he could want. He
escapes, braying around the neighborhood, up and down the road,
conversing with old friends.
I get a steak dinner! And [plan on launching onto the rivers Tuesday
July 18th one week behind Capt. Clark, Sgt. Ordway and Sgt. Pryor. It's
a bit hard to believe that we have actually arrived.
2,300 miles yet to St. Louis. 5,700 miles completed.
July 18, 2000
With an afternoon departure, "Gander" my 16 foot kayak and I are off
onto the Beaverhead River. Low water keeps us paddling gravel and
rattling over the bars. There is a severe drought in Western Montana
and we are in the midst of it. We fold our way down through the steep
90 degree bends and encamp within sight of Beaverhead Rock. 14.5 miles.
July 22
It is my birthday! The earth is a fine place to be, even if I'm now
towing Gander on its Great Falls portage cart cross country toward
Bozeman and the Yellowstone River along Clark's southern route.
We made 25, 30, and 43 miles on the Jefferson River to the
confluence of the Gallatin where Clark headed eastward on horseback
July 13, 1806.
[Clark] Sunday 13th July 1806
..let the horses feed imediately below the enterance of Gallitine.
had all the baggage of the land party taken out of the Canoes and after
dinner the 6 Canoes and the party of 10 men under the direction of
Sergt. Ordway Set out.... at 5. P.M I Set out...nearly East 4 miles and
Encamped on the bank of Gallitines River....
July 25
Just 1 mile west of topping Bozeman's Pass the right tire goes flat. I
wrap it to the rim with 3/8 inch nylon three strand and limp into
Livinston after three days and 60 tough miles.
July 27
Gander is relaunched onto the Yellowstone. In three hours we make 23
miles!! I remember paddling three days up the Lower Missouri to make as
many.
Great water. Clear rushing mountain snow. The phenomena of standing
waves--3 or 4 or 5 waves standing in a pattern while th mountains rush
through them.
Most of the white water is avoidable though. It is fast, fast enough
to float us past a deer drinking ten yards away.
Aug 3
Last evening's bloom of three strand mayflies crowded the mosquitos
right out of the air.
Beaver crashing, flacking water. Herons and their stillness. A few
bits of cool rapids. Old bridges. Two fledgling ospreys claiming the
echo of an abandoned one lane highway bridge. They've made it into a
comforting shadow.
Aug 4
Thank you people of Miles City. You have been kind. And I am beginning
my goodbyes to Montana.
Downriver travel is faster, lighter, and simpler. Yet it is tough
too, but less gear is needed, fewer provisions.
The Yellowstone has become much wider, an older and more subtle
personality. It is shallower, the gravel bars reaching much farther out
on their slow slopes. So it is difficult at times to follow the current
or to see the river as a channel without becoming disoriented, lost on
its vast waters. The river is now my study. At first, all is flat.
Then, I begin to see how it undulates and warps, how the surface
reflects what's beneath. There are larger sections forming slight
bowls, plates moving gently with upturned edges. These shoulder the
barriers of underlying rock, and with patience, the current can be felt
as its expression changes on the surface of the river.
I paddle the subtle indentations and variances of bedrock and
windeastward on the larger eastward winding river. Toward the end of
the day, a storm crinkles overhead with dry lightening and a few cold
drops of rain. A following breeze whisks Gander along. 42.0 good miles
today.
Aug 6
A hot afternoon, so hot the flies die in the tent. I do errands in
town: shopping, groceries, phone calls. Glendive hosts me to a day off.
Aug 7
This fire season in Montana and Idaho is the hottest and driest in 50
years. Much of my Rocky Mountain trek is threatened by forest fires.
Sula, Darby, Hamilton and the 93 corridor and the Bitterroot Valley are
under seige by several uncontained wild fires. It seems I am two weeks
ahead of the drought fueled dry lightening set fires.
Paddled over the Lower Yellowstone Diversion Dam; that is how low
thw water is here on the western rivers. After sitting and watching, I
decided Gander could find a straight chute to bump through and we did.
Lower Yellowstone here we come!
Sunny and bright. Headwinds. Current variable 1-3 mph. Encamped at
6:30 pm. 9 1/2 hours of paddling.
Backk ache. Bad mood. Black flies.
Aug 8
Cattle moo, bugle, bellow and bawl from beneath the cottonwoods on the
opposite shore. I am encamped near the Lower Buffalo Crossing which
Clark noted as an intersect of those once vast herds. This morning a
few hundred beasts take up the song.
Catfish. Geese. The drone of small aircraft and the sound of traffic
beyond the flood plain fill in the sweep of a light pink sunrise.
Morning turns to afternoon. Pleasant scenery. Sandbars and low slow
water. Vultures soar on the thermals from a smoke stack in Sydney.
Arrived Clark's campsite of August 2, 1806 at 5:00 pm,
Charbonneau's Creek. 31.0 miles, 8 1/2 hours of paddling.
Aug 9
10:00 am, I've arrived at the Missouri River! I'm surprised to feel so
gratified. "I made it!"
Aug 10
Black flies are swarming and make it impossible to be out of the tent.
They do not hesitate to land and bite, like acid. As it cools they will
disappear. Then I'll cook supper. In the mean time I read, work maps,
keep the journal, and sweat.
Sakakawea Lake begins to clear into a light and opaque gray green.
9:30 pm: dark and cool. Heat lightening cannonades the western horizon.
A few heavy drops of rain.
Aug 11 5:30 am
Humid. Already the black flies are out for breakfast. I drink coffee,
mop my forehead, and plink flies off the noseeum netting. Pain for
pain, I boost my talley.
Underway, off the beach, I'll paddle myself a breeze. For now, I
plan a quick exit.
I paddle from crescent point to crescent point. Languid. A first
swim off a pebbled beach. Noon. Two women fish from a point of sandy
land. Four poles. Ice chests. Chairs. Secluded. Miles from roads and
towns and TVs. From kids and husbands and phone calls. Like an island
they drift behind, beyond the horizon,disappear, sitting in the
surround of wind and waves, waiting for the fish to come, for the
moment of reattachment.
I arrive at New Town, ND at 7pm, tired and dazed. Thinking I'm
getting ahead of the mosquitos I pitch the tent and go into town. By 9
pm a storm comes in with violent wind and sweeping rain. I lean toward
the boat, rest in the lee of buildings. My nylon sweat pants which were
partly torn along the outer seam are literally ripped from cuff to
pocket. I find my tent piled next to the boat with a rock on top.
Someone has saved the day.
Aug 13, 2000
At 6:00 am it remains dark, overcast and still. The sun rises hot
orange, then disappears. By 8:00am the SE winds arrive. Short heavy
rain showers slow the morning down until 11:30 when finally the sky
breaks into patches of blue. I depart, paddling into 15-20 mph head
winds. At 3:30, I stop for the day. Adverse winds, sweat, and black
flies. Only 9.0 miles today.
Aug 15
Repaired the rudder cable and departed 9:15 am. More winds. Classic
forms and curves of prairie and butte and low mesa. Lunch at noon. A
swim at three.
Aug 16
No sunrise today. Gray skies, heat lightening, thunder and variable
winds. When the sun does show itself, it has a cut raw flesh color,
hanging like a ragged globe in the separate time of low clouds. It
turns into a storm day. I do camp chores and repair the tent.
Aug 17
A large eyed tan mouse visits camp and has been busily collecting a
handful of rice. Between 7:30 am and 7:30 pm Gander and I make 45.5
miles and are camped just 4 miles from Washburn and the present day
historic site of Fort Mandan!
Aug 21
Cool morning. River fog. Beaver and coyotes last night with light rain.
There is a body some where in the river, under a boulder, lifting,
entangled amid the limbs of a sunken tree, swaying, wondering when it
will again rise to the light. People of Bismarck patrol the shores and
talk of a late night prank. Teenagers partying had stolen several jet
skies from neighborhood docks. After a high speed accident in the dark
of the river, one young man remains.
At noon I meet Doug and Wally. They are here from Minnesota to paddle
the stretch from Fort Mandan to the South Dakota border. We paddle
together all the long day, arriving at Fort Yates by evening time. 50.0
good miles! It is good to share with them.
Aug 23
Mobridge is twenty miles away. I depart on quiet water and make good
time. Nearly 4 mph. In two hours I see the railroad bridge. Two hours
more and I'm paddling past the city. At noon, I arrive at Jerry
Frailings BridgeCity Mariana. He is a friend from my 1998 upriver
journey and will give me a rest, a ride into town for groceries,
library and post office.
Aug 25
Heat lightening and a few drops of rain. I depart at 9:00 am with a NW
breeze helping Gander along. We paddle well all afternoon. Hot and
bright, I am surrounded by the blue waters of these Dakota reservoirs
and they inturn by the orange and golden prairie.
At two I nap on a rock. At six I stop to camp in the shade of a
butte. Two mule deer inspect the tent and then bounce away.
Aug 26
I work my way along in fog. Two thirds across a three mile lake, the
other rudder cable breaks and I limp into shore, repair it and continue
on until 2:00. A swim. Black flies still distracting heaven.
Encamped with two outboards and five fisherman, I'm offered some
walleye and hashbrowns, good cheer around an open fire. 29.5 miles
today.
Aug 27
Departed 8:00 am. Winds steady at 20 mph until 11:00. Moderating to 15,
to 10, then 5. In the late afternoon they rise again to 15. I beach
Gander in a small cove. Tired. We are 3 or 4 miles from the dam.
Aug 28
The completion of Oahe Lake! Harlan, a friend from Pedal & Paddle,
meets me on the upside to portage Gander down to the tailrace. Winds
peek at 35 mph but they are from the NW and splash me toward Pierre and
a day's rest. These reservoirs seem to go on forever. Adverse winds, no
current, big waters and waves.
Aug 31
Rained most of the night. Departed 8:30 am. On one side of Lake Sharpe
the plains are a group of gigantic turtles, a place of toadstools and
gnomes. On the other, the grass flows below the wind and sky and there
is the fresh scent of hay and horses' manes.
9 hours of paddling. 39.5 good miles today.
[Clark] Monday 1st of September 1806
..those indians informed me they were Yanktons, .... I invited them
down to the boats to Smoke. when we arived at the Canoes they all
eagerly Saluted the Mandan Chief, and we all Set and Smoked Several
pipes.
..those nine men had five fusees and 4 bows & quivers of arrows. at 2
P.M. we came too on the upper bon homme opposit the ancient
fortification and Sent out men to hunt.... I walked on the N.E. main
Shore found the bottom rich and thickly covered with Peavine rich weed
grass interwoven in Such a manner with grape vines that I could not get
through.... the grass was nearly as high as my head and the mosquitors
excessively bad.... we came 52 miles to day only with a head wind. the
Country on either Side are butifull and the plains much richer below
the Queiquer [The Niobrara] riveer than above that river.--
Sept 3
Slept in with a back ache. Dewy, foggy morning. Quiet and calm.
It is slow today. Zero current on a wide meandering lake. I pass the
White River where Lewis and Clark hunted for mule deer, magpies,
antelope and barking squirrels. Buffalo were in great numbers on the
plains.
I encamp amid an outcropping of rocks. Lots of blazing stars swing
and fidget with the winds shifting here and there. As I prepare for
dinner I hear the scrap of hide, the rattle of tail. In a month or two
this will be a great denning place for rattlesnakes. In the mean while,
it protects me from winds beneath a starry night.
Sept 4
It has not been a good traveling day. But a few lulls have eased the
way. I find a nook and float with the cattle. They are wary, but also
thirsty.
A beautiful afternoon. I paddle until 6:00 pm and camp in a small
cove after 22.0 miles in 9 hours @ 2.5 mph average.
Sept 5
The winds blow but my little cove barely ripples. Winds 20 mph plus.
Wind waves grow to 3 and 4 feet, breaking over Gander's decks, slopping
into my lap. Definetly, the kayak is the better choice for these tiny
seas of lakes.
Winds increase. If the lake were a tree I'd be chunking my way
through a cottonwood a mile in circumference, nearly a half mile in
diameter.
When beads of water start to vibrate off the surface, I decide to
beach Gander and wait out the storm. 4.0 miles today. The first yellow
golden cottonwood leaves. Furry tan caterpillars. Tonight, when the
wind calms after midnight, I'll try for some more miles.
Sept 6
At 2:00 am I get ready to launch. The moon is down, but there is a dim
horizon line of bluffs and occasional trees. I paddle along the sound
of waves barking at the ground. A star. A shore light. Each helps to
orient me, yet it is the wind and the waves which keep me on course.
By 3:30 am the wind increases again. At 4 I brind Gander onto a
beach below a loud tumble of breaking waves. Pulling the boat up onto
the beach, I get back in, wrap myself with a tarp for a wind break, and
doz toward sun up.
By noon the wind has softened. I launch through a low surf and we
make another 13.5 miles. Pease Creek is a lovely deep clear water cove,
protected from the winds by brush and tree covered bluffs. Food is
running low since these storms have kept me out longer than
anticipated. An osprey roosts nearby.
Sept 7
Arrive Pickstown where Don's Marina gives me a portage down to the
tailrace. The last reservoir!!
Windless, on glassy water, Gander glides downstream past cut bluffs,
cottonwoods and a range of rocky cliffs. I camp on a sand spit
tappering into reeds and then into prairie. Coyotes, catfish and a whip
or-will. 27.0 miles. We have made it into the upper reaches of Lewis
and Clark Lake. Tomorrow, the Niobrara River, the final dam, and
Yankton on the free flowing Missouri River.
"The Home Stretch" September 1 thru September 23, 1806
[Clark] Monday 1st of September 1806
..
the grass was nearly as high as my head...after we all Came together we
again proceeded on down to alarge Sand bar imediately apposit to the
place we left on the 1t of Septr. 1804. I observed our old flag Staff
or pole Standing as we left it....the Country on either Side are
butifull and the plains much richer below the Queiquer river [the
Niobrara River] than above that river.--
Sept. 8, 2000
We make fast time down to the Niobrara...Then, farther into the grass
and sand islands of the upper lake. At Charley Creek, I camp. It will
be the final lake campsite and I will miss these clear waters. In the
summer, the Dakotas are distant islands, bits of the Carribean without
the salt.
Sept. 9
Wind gusts have been nearly flattening the tent. It is noisey with the
now brown tumbling surf to my left and the fluttering edges of the tent
near my forehead. Water is heating for coffee and oatmeal.
My launch through the waves is well planned and goes smoothly. The
wind shushes and surfs me down toward the last earthen dam and a day
off at Yankton--time to prepare for the final homeward stretch.
Sept. 13
Late morning. Sunrise at 7:00am. Clear and peach. I paddle past Sioux
City, drifting along the shore, musing beneath Floyd's grave. Hawks,
eastern blue jays, and herons, and the night with the rising moon,
coyotes and screech owls. 41.5 good miles today.
Sept. 14
Gander passes the Omaha Reservation, Black Bird's Bend, the hills and
knolls similar to the grave mound that chief was buried in. Lewis and
Clark climbed up to view the territory from this infamous Chief's
burial place in 1804 as they ascended the Missouri River meandering 60
miles southward, 60 miles northward.
With a 3 mph current past Decatur and a beautiful autumn day we make
54.0 miles. Beaver. Ducks. Cottonwood leaves on the water.
Sept. 15
Quiet starry night. Fog on the river this morning. Depart 8:00 am.
A first towboat comes up past Spencer Chemical Factory. Corn is
being harvested. The soybeans not yet. Husks spin in the eddies as we
average 6 plus mph into Omaha.
Sept. 16
Slept in. Racoons hunting along the shore last night.
Traveling quickly and quietly, a two by two towboat pushes its four
barges of gravel downstream. Beautiful, serene, dangerous. It is a
facinating prtrait of silent power at sunrise. My little cove is sucked
away as it passes, the waves filling it up again with layers of rolled
back blankets.
Depart 8:15am. It has become difficult to keep going. I definitly
look forward to arriving at Nebraska City.
Uneventful Saturday on the river: power boats, fisherman, campers.
Arrive Nebraska City after 41.5 miles. Shower at the park, walk into
town. Map work. Encamp across the river on a sandy beach. At the other
far end, a couple has their weekend camp. I'm sorry to crowd them.
Sept. 17
Todd and I talk fishing as I stow gear preparing to depart. He has
dreams of making the river journey to St. Louis. His wife joins him.
Nice people.
It is hot. Clear colors flood the scene, reflecting the tumble in
the whelming boils of the Missouri. A powerful river! More powerful
below the surface than what might be at first imagined.
Encamp at 5:00pm in the shade at Indian Cove, Lower Bend. More map
work & readings. 46.5 good miles today with oak trees, now, and large
willows, eastern cottonwoods.
Under moon and stars, racoons growl at the boat.
Sept. 18
Owls hooting from the willow tops. A 2 x 2 tow in the sunlight working
upstream.
Headwinds most of the afternoon. Encamp at Mosquito Creek 6:00pm,
45.0 miles.
Sept. 19
Clouds and showers. Beaver and mosquitos. Winds variable from my
protected campsite. Perhaps I'll get some following winds today.
The thrash and wash of the wind in the high tops of dry cottonwoods.
A hot and cold running sky.
We arrive at Atchison, KS at 4pm, depart at 5:00 and camp on a sand
bar a mile below. 50.0 miles. Tent's up, coffee's on. Let it rain!
Sept. 20
Gentle rain all night and into the morning. Arrive Leavenworth 1:15pm-
camp and shower by 2:00. Post Office, laundry, etc. A day off tomorrow.
Sept. 22
Depart 8:15 am. Rag-tagged and patched up. Paddle through Kansas City
and camp at mile point 359.0. Seven days yet to the Mississippi River
and St. Louis.
Lightening along
the neck of a blue heron
stalking the shallows.
Torrents of rain with strong gusts from the NW.
Sept. 23
Heavy rains continue into the morning hours. Depart 8:15am and
paddle long hours on a better than average flow. The river is up a foot
and Gander slowly outpaces the drift.
Arrive at the Port of Waverly and pitch the tent, hoping it will dry
a little before dark. A late dinner. More showers of rain and gusts of
NW wind. There is a continuous gentle rain now, but 65.5 miles in 9
hours!
Sept 24
Heavy dew. Gentle rain. Fog. Visibility fair to poor. Current 4 mph.
By 5:30 pm Gander and I at at the 240 mile point looking for a sand
beach to camp. By 6:00pm we settle for a beaver path on a mud flat
cover thinly with grass and weeds. A mud camp, but we are safely off
the river before dark. 54.0 miles today.
Sept. 25
Large cold drops tap the tent and speckle the Missouri. A wind shift
from the North carries the fog downstream on wispy legs.
By 10am it is warm and dry and colorful. Red and green buoys rush
past in a gurgle of current, some with captured logs winging out from
either side.
The day carries Gander at 7 mph. 53.0 miles today and a camp on
sand. The world is good again.
Sept. 26
A perfect day for travel. A slight steady breeze and flat calm water.
Bright colors and cool air.
I photograph the first copperhead snake I've seen since 1998,
coming up river in the spring and summer. It is worried with the cold
and extremely defensive. It won't submerge as I expected it would, but
rather coils into an "S" on the surface, staying in the direct
sunlight, warming itself, warning me. His mottled brown pattern shines.
Geese. Carp. Mosquitoes. A comfortable camp. A clear night.
Sept. 27
At Chamois, a meridian sight! These people were kind to me in those
rainy tough days of 1998. I stop to say hello.
Sept. 28
City sounds, engines of cars, planes, trains. Crows and jays. Heavy fog
in the morning, clearing into another beautiful day to paddle.
Camp across from Defiance, MO--another place of friendship. Coyotes.
Dogs. Owls and geese. The stars have come alive. They are moved from
place to place across the sky by the jets overhead.
Sept. 29
Thick fog. Warm. The geese are fussing, padding along shore near the
boat, moving southward in small circling flocks.
Depart at 8:45am. Arrive St. Charles at noon, depart by 1:00. Then
the long afternoon miles to mile point 18, then 12, the 9.9 daymark, to
the 4, and then the 2. The opposite shore of the Mississippi River
crosses two miles to the east. At 5:00pm I enter its flow, crossing
over to Wood River and the Lewis and Clark Memorial.
Encamp at Duck Island at the confluence. 50.5 good miles today.
Sept. 30
Clear warm morning. A perfect day to complete this journey.
Depart 8:00am. I paddle The Chain of Rocks and decend through its
five foot falls. A blue heron guides me through water up to my chest.
It is an exciting ride to St. Louis and a welcome from the newspapers,
TV and radio local stations.
Total miles from the Pacific: 3327.0!!
Total miles from Wood River and Return: 6,800 miles in 2 years and 4
months.
Thank you all for the grass roots support!! What a wonderful epic trail
we have to travel and experience. Bon Voyage!!
