Montana Revisited

So now I get to do something fun. Write about my second favorite state. Of course, you know
all about me and Minnesota. Big Sky
Country a.k.a. Montana though pulls me away like no other place. With a dead
computer and some annoying medical issues, it’s the getaway where I, Mrs. T and friends Gary and Rosie went camping and hiking a few weeks back. One
of the Top Ten on my list of favorite Montana places is The Sam Billings
Memorial Campground, up the West Fork Rd., from Darby, Montana. The campground can be found about a
quarter of a mile off the blacktop next to Boulder Creek. That creek feeds the
West Fork of the Bitterroot River. The campground is surrounded by huge Ponderosa Pines. The
only thing comparable, in my experience, would be the Norway Pines at the
headwaters of the Mississippi River in Itasca State Park. The small town of Darby sits in the beautiful Bitterroot Valley, south of Missoula and Hamilton, Montana. Its main
attraction to Mrs. T is a world class ice-cream shop! What's so special
about this place that I like so much? Let me count the ways.
1. The short road into the campground is narrow and winding.
This tends to discourage the riff-raff with their huge rigs. Pop-ups and small
campers do just fine.
2. Potable
water is not available, so you have to bring your own. Of course, a bracing dip in the creek will wash the sweat off, if you don't mind its ice cold temperature (just kidding... sort of)
3.
Three-foot diameter Ponderosa pines are scattered in the campground. It's also worth a hike 4.5 miles up Boulder Creek trail to the falls. My first trip to the falls, was with
my brother, fly rods in hand. It wasn't the distance that did me in. It was the several thousand
feet gain in elevation. Also, being totally out of shape didn't help me either, as
the ancient picture reveals...ugh.
"It's
just around the bend," my brother kept looking back and yelling. Finally
convinced, as Redd Fox used to say on Sandford and Son, "It's the Big
One," I said collapsing down on the trail, composing myself for the inevitable, hoping
it was quick and relatively painless. Figuring if it was time to go, I decided to enjoy the mountain view. A few
minutes later as my brother return back down the trail to check on me and having taken some deep breaths, I determined the
problem was not a heart attack but oxygen deprivation. And more imporantly, I
could hear the roar of the falls just around the next bend. Two days later inspired by Mrs. T and my sister in law leading the way I was able to reach the fabled falls. 4.
Trout. Cuthroats and cutbows abound in the creek. Not big ones. Pan sized. Mmmm
Mmmmm Good!

And so some twenty years later Mr. & Mrs Troutbirder along with friends Gary & Rosie set off up the very same mountain trail. I'm sorry to say we didn't quite make itto the falls but came very close. A young couple of returning hikers told of two icy streamscrossings, one of which involved balancing on a wet log. Discretion being the better part of valor, we turned back, remembering it's the journey that counts and not the destination.

Sam Billings Memorial Campground -
one of my favorite places in the mountain west.