Homeward Bound

Nephew Franklin and his wife Joanne are babysitting their granddaughter Evy in Lafayette, LA while their daughter and her husband are vacationing. We found the beautiful house with no problem and had a nice visit. Evy has really grown up since we last saw her as a baby, and she’s very friendly and adorable, and smart! (She beat her grandpa and Uncle Jack at a board game while we were there, which pleased her no end.) Joanne made us all a delicious lunch—we always enjoy our visits with them so much!

Franklin, Evy, and Joanne

After a storm blew through, we continued on our way, but it was still raining and we wanted to eat some crawfish for supper, which we usually try to do when passing through Cajun country, so we stopped for the night in Beaux Bridge, LA. We found a Cajun eatery nearby and had our crawfish etouffee, catfish and fried shrimp—very yummy!

We split the Combo.

We’ve driven through this way a few times before, and driving over the Atchafalaya swamp is always interesting—you’re driving on an elevated bridge for miles and miles. Looks like prime alligator habitat.

The mighty Atchafalaya swamp.

We crossed the Mississippi River at Baton Rouge, and drove through Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia, on our way to visit our niece Christin at Appalachian State University in Boone, NC. (Lots of trucks on these southern highways. Also we found our cheapest gas of the trip here—the cheapest we purchased was $3.04/gal and the cheapest we saw advertised was $3.02. Note that on last year’s Epic Journey the cheapest gas was $3.14.)

18-wheelers as far as you can see. Jack thinks they should be outlawed on interstate highways...

We did one more sightseeing stop on the South Carolina/North Carolina border, near Charlotte, to visit King’s Mountain National Historic Park, a fascinating Revolutionary War battle site. Jack recently finished a book about the campaigns in South Carolina, and learned a lot about the War that we didn’t know before. In this area, the Revolutionary War was more like a civil war between the patriots and the loyalists—lots and lots of bitter infighting among friends, family and neighbors. The battle of King’s Mountain turned the tide. The Brits and loyalists had won most of the battles to this point and were feeling pretty cocky that the American Revolution would fizzle out soon. Gen. Cornwallis had what he thought was an ironclad plan for defeating the battle-weary patriot forces.

Memorial to all who fought at King's Mountain.

However, Col. Ferguson, a British officer (Scotsman) who was in charge of about 1000 loyalist militia and regular soldiers (loyalist = America was their homeland but they sided with the Brits in the Revolution), made the mistake of issuing a threat that if anybody else, including the mountain frontiersmen who lived in the rough country to the west of King’s Mountain, raised arms against the British, he would kill them and destroy their houses, crops, livestock, and generally make their lives miserable. The frontierspeople did not take well to threats and this pissed them off royally. To this point, they hadn’t been all that interested in the Revolution, thinking they were busy enough just keeping the Indians at bay and hacking out a living in the rough frontier country. But they took Ferguson’s edict as a direct affront and it prompted them to band together, bringing their long rifles and hatchets, and making the long trek over the mountains to show Ferguson a thing or two.

These so-called Over-the-Mountain men came out in force, chased Ferguson and his troops onto a hilltop at King’s Mountain, surrounded him and basically hacked his entire force to pieces, in a rage, killing Ferguson in the process along with most of his men (the remainder were taken prisoner). So, one of Gen. Cornwallis’s flanks was entirely destroyed by these “savages” (as the Brits called them). The local loyalists got scared and began to think that just maybe these patriots were going to win the war after all, so they quit fighting for the Brits. The patriot success at King’s Mountain turned out to be a major factor in Cornwallis’s surrender at Yorktown the following year. The mountain men just disbanded afterwards and went home.

Ferguson's memorial and grave site. (Ferguson actually sounds like a good leader and brave soldier--he just made a grave error in judgement regarding the Over-the-Mountain men!)

Next morning, we drove on into Boone and found a campsite near Christin’s new apartment building, where she lives with three roommates. The plan was to meet up with her and her boyfriend Tyler at the campus art studio, where she had to prepare some cotton paper pulp for an instructor, for use in an art class next week. (Christin has a sort of internship for credit with this instructor.) We parked in a parking garage and walked over to the art building and watched her blend up the cotton pieces into a kind of slurry, using a large mixing machine.

Christin and her paper making machine.

Afterwards we headed to her apartment and met two of her roommates, who were getting ready to go to a barbecue, while Christin showered and changed. Then the four of us went out to dinner at The Bistro, where we enjoyed sitting outside on the patio. Great food, and good conversation! When it started to rain, we finally left our pleasant table and we headed back to their apartment and our campsite. Unfortunately, a traffic accident was blocking the first intersection and we had no alternative but to sit there and watch it play out. One car was pretty well totaled and we saw one patient on a stretcher being loaded into the ambulance. Finally we were cleared to pass and made our way back to the campsite.

A delicious dinner with Christin and Tyler.

Now it’s Saturday and we’re driving on I-77 toward home!

Good Time with the Family in Texas

We’ve spent the past week doing the grandparent (and great-grandparent) thing in Cypress, Texas at son Jeff’s with his wife Mariann and 9-year-old daughter Sarah. We got in kind of late on Monday evening, so didn’t do much that night. But the next evening grandson Michael and his wife Debra came over with their son, 5-month-old Aiden—our great-grandchild! A cutie-pie, as you can see here. Great to spend some time with them all, since we haven’t seen them for over a year. We all went out to dinner at our favorite local Mexican place, La Hacienda, a family tradition.

Grandson Michael, Debra and Aiden

Since the weather is typically hot and humid Houston area summer weather, we spent a fair amount of time paddling around in the backyard swimming pool, and inside watching movies.

On Friday/Saturday, we took Sarah with us on a side trip to San Antonio, to finally see the Alamo (Jack and Carol’s fun) and go to SeaWorld (Sarah’s fun). Some things had changed at SeaWorld since our decades-ago previous visit—they now have a LOT of killer whales. At the show in Shamu Stadium, there were five in the pool at once! And they have big roller coasters now. But the sea lion show seemed exactly the same. It was a pleasant day and Sarah really enjoyed it. At one point, Carol was washed against a fence and almost knocked down by a giant bow wave from a roller-coaster type boat ride and lost her hat and got completely soaked to the skin. But it was her own fault, because she was trying to get wet to cool off—just got a little too close to the water, egged on by a little boy, sopping wet and hanging tightly onto the fence, who I’m sure was hoping to see exactly what happened. (LITTLE BOY: “Get closer, get closer! CAROL: “What is it like?” LITTLE BOY: “It’s like having lots of rocks thrown at you!” SPLASH!!! CAROL: “Glug!”)

Soaked, lost hat, but cool.

 

Watching the killer whale show in Shamu Stadium

Besides all the Shamus, we saw penguins (in a nice cool dark building), sharks, seals, dolphins, flamingos, puffins (flashback to our Newfoundland trip), sea horses, and much more. Sarah and Carol rode a few little-kid rides (the little-kid roller coaster was almost too much for Carol).

We spent the night in a Howard Johnson’s motel—first time in a LONG time we’ve stayed in one of those. It had a nice swimming pool so Sarah and Carol went for an evening swim.

The next morning we headed for the Alamo. We have tried for several years to make it to San Antonio to see the Alamo, but something always came up that prevented it. We were afraid it might be a letdown, but we both found it to be an overdelivery. The old mission where the siege and final slaughter took place—the Shrine of Texas Liberty, as they call it—is small and well-guarded and has long lines, but there are lots of other old buildings on the grounds, and it’s all in a very nice and shady garden with lots of room to move around and sit and view all the various memorials that people have erected over the years. An informative film and museum explains the complicated history very well—we now are much better informed on this dramatic era (which had a BIG effect on U.S. history, leading to a massive addition of land later taken from Mexico in the Mexican War). Mexican commander Santa Anna was definitely a Bad Guy dictator—self-proclaimed “Napoleon of the West”—and his own arrogance led directly to his downfall and Mexico’s subsequent loss of some big chunks of land to the U.S. Fascinating tour. Plus we got to see a lock of Davy Crockett’s hair. Carol loves Davy Crocket—actually she loves Fess Parker who played Davy Crockett in the TV show of her childhood.

Carol and Sarah in front of the Alamo, the Shrine of Texas Liberty

We walked a couple of blocks to the famous Riverwalk—again, we thought it was better than anticipated. It’s a cool, shady oasis in the heart of the hot city. Just walk down the steps and you’re in a different world altogether. Very European-looking, with all kinds of sidewalk eateries and drinkeries. We had a nice Mexican lunch on the sidewalk and watched all the tour boats going by. All in all, a delightful time and we enjoyed getting to spend some quality time with Sarah, who is a funny and easy-going traveling companion.

San Antonio's Riverwalk (note Carol got a new hat)

On Sunday Carol went to church with Michael, Debra and Aiden and we then babysat Aiden for an hour or so at Jeff and Mariann’s house while Michael and Debra went to pick up an elliptical machine they were buying. The baby cried most of the time, but Mariann finally got him to drop off to sleep. Ahh. When Michael and Debra got back, we all got into the pool and splashed around. Aiden looked so cute in his little floater device. He seems to love the water. Mariann made a delicious spaghetti dinner, topped off by some leftover birthday cake that Debra had made (it was for the birthday of a little girl she babysits). Nice time with the family.

Aiden's nifty pool float

We left Texas Monday morning, stopping at the San Jacinto Battleground State Park, and we’re now in Lousiana, driving to Lafayette where we’re going to stop for a visit tomorrow with nephew Franklin. He and his wife Joanne are babysitting their granddaughter for a while, at their daughter Lanah’s house in Lafayette.

San Jacinto Battleground monument in Houston

Two Panhandles

Jack just finished a very good book about Kit Carson (Blood and Thunder by  Hampton Sides--thanks to Lynne Friedmann for the book) so he wanted to stop at the little Colorado town named Kit Carson as we drove by and find out how it happened to be named after the famous scout, mountain man, and military leader. Very skimpy info was available on the town's website, but we figured we'd look for a museum or something when we got there. The town was small and not very prosperous looking, but it did have a well-maintained museum in the old train depot. But, shucks, closed on Fridays!! (Open every day from 9 to 5 EXCEPT Friday--we have a lot of luck like this when trying to see museums and out-of-the-way stuff on the spur of the moment.) We peeped in the windows and read all the markers outside the museum, but they were kind of vague and we weren't able to find out if Kit Carson was actually through here or lived here at some point. We did see that the railroad came through here not long after Carson died in 1868, and speculated that they just named the town after him as a memorial and mark of respect for a famous man.

The Kit Carson (town) Museum

Kit Carson Museum - Carol takes a peek inside to see what we missed.

We needed gas and drove slowly (only took about 3 minutes) through the main drag of Kit Carson and at first thought the town had no gas station at all. But then Jack spotted a generic FUEL sign at a run-down looking building that looked closed, with grass growing up between cracks in the concrete. There was a single gas pump standing in the parking lot. Sure enough, it was on. The building itself was locked up and torn apart inside, and no one was around, but you could pump gas!

Self help gasoline in Kit Carson, Colorado

The town had a cafe and we stopped for Second Breakfast. They had some FABULOUS homemade fruit pies: Jack had blueberry and I had strawberry/rhubarb.

On our way to the Texas panhandle, we drove through the Oklahoma panhandle, and Jack targeted another town for a stop. Since we watched the Ken Burns Dust Bowl series on PBS, we've wanted to see a Dust Bowl museum somewhere and the town of Boise City, Oklahoma was Ground Zero of the Dust Bowl. So we thought we might find a museum there. Again, didn't see much info on the internet but decided to stop anyhow. However, we forgot that we lost an hour when we crossed into Oklahoma and it was 4:05 pm when we pulled into the town museum parking lot. And, of course, the museum closed at 4 pm! Fooey!! Not our day for museums. We found the town library, which was still open, and talked to a knowledgeable librarian. She said the museum did have an excellent Dust Bowl exhibit (including some actual dust saved from the 1930s storms) and it was too bad we missed it, so Fooey Again! The librarian had created a shelf of Dust Bowl books, including some that featured some folks in their town who lived through the Dust Bowl, so we browsed through the shelf and learned a few new things about that terrible time.

The Boise City, Oklahoma museum we missed. Would be nice if they posted their hours on the web.

Moving on down the road, as we approached another tiny, dusty western town, Jack said "A taco would taste good about now." Just then, a small brick nondescript building appeared with a large sign saying TACOS and nothing else on its roof. Normally we wouldn't have stopped because the building looked so ill-kept with peeling paint, weeds outside, and cracked concrete, but we considered it a sign (get it?). Inside looked clean and acceptable. Just one nice lady was manning the place and a  handlettered sign said "Homemade tamales, $1.00". I have a weakness for tamales so that's what I ordered and Jack got his taco. The tamale was so good I went back and got a couple more. The lady had to leave for a dental appointment and she needed to close up, so she kicked us out (nicely) and we ate the tamales in the van. Glad we stopped.

Best and only tacos and tamales in this town.

We made it to Amarillo, TX just behind a drenching rainstorm that had some of the roads flooded. We had decided to stay at a KOA in Amarillo that night (Friday night) and drive on into Canyon to granddaughter Jennifer's place on Saturday morning, since she was working late on Friday. However, the driveway into the KOA looked like a huge river was running across it, so we parked down the road a piece and waited it out. The water was down enough to drive through when we went back and we had a pleasant night at our campsite.

We headed down to Canyon Saturday morning and met up with Jennifer at her apartment. We also met her cute puppy (7 months), Cosmo. She had the day off so we ran some errands with her and caught up on "life stuff." We took the pup to the nearby dog park and let him run with a couple of other doggies, which was fun, and then went shopping for some groceries. Jennifer's boyfriend Austin was working at a Thai/Laotian restaurant so went there for lunch and said hi to him. After that we hung out, did some work, and chatted. The plan was to pick Austin up from his job in the afternoon, and then have dinner at the Italian restaurant in Amarillo where both Austin and Jennifer work, Napoli's. (Austin had to work that night also, but Jennifer was off--Austin was our waiter.) Great restaurant! Nice Italian ambiance, including a wonderful outside patio that looks just like Italy! The food was delicious and the staff was friendly and welcoming. A lovely evening. Went back and watched some Netflix and finally hid the sack around 11:30 pm.

Austin, Jennifer, and Cosmo.

Jennifer needs a car because unfortunately her car was totaled a week or so ago when she swerved to avoid an animal in the road and hit the guardrail, so on Sunday afternoon we drove to Amarillo to look at cars--not realizing that Texas Blue Laws forbid car dealerships to open on Sunday. Interesting. We managed to look at a few cars in dealership lots but didn't see anything too enticing in the price range. So we went back home, made some yummy soup, and searched on Craig's List.

We bought tickets online to the outdoor musical TEXAS!, which is presented in the Palo Duro Canyon state park nearby, in the evening. This extravaganza has been running for years and years and is an award-winning attraction of the Amarillo area. We headed over to the canyon amphitheatre about 7 pm (the play starts at sundown), taking some picnic snacks with us. It was really enjoyable. The evening was cool with a nice breeze (after the sun was good and down) and the play is staged against a majestic backdrop of the rocky canyon wall. It begins with a man on a horse carrying the Texas flag appearing at the very top of the 600 ft canyon bluff--spectacular! The choreography and singing/dancing/acting was great, but we thought the best thing was how the production used the whole immediate environment as the stage. People on horses were always galloping around far in the background or up on the cliff; a prairie fire started up in several spots (so realistic it was downright scary--real fire, BIG), and a pretty convincing steam train came through at the end, carrying a bunch of people on it. The finale was a patriotic fireworks and water fountain display, and video/multimedia projection against the red rock cliffs. ZOWEE! Everything is bigger in Texas! A lot of university students are in this production. They did a great job.

Austin, Jennifer and Carol having a snack before the show while Jack snaps the photo.

Waiting for the show to begin. The amphitheater is in the Palo Duro Canyon near the town of Canyon, Texas

A forbidden photo of the finale of TEXAS.

It was an enjoyable visit with Jenn and Austin and we hope to see them in Oriskany before too long... Now heading to Cypress, Texas to visit the rest of the family, including granddaughter Sarah and new great-grandson Aiden!

Left Montana Behind

We’re sad to leave Montana. Here are a few impressions we have of this lovely state. Its reputation as a trout fishing mecca is well-deserved; it’s full of rivers and streams and most of them are full of trout and accessible. And the all-around scenic beauty, as I believe you saw in the photos of Jack’s fishing spots throughout this blog, is jaw-dropping. It really is Big Sky Country. Public land in the form of parks and recreation areas is available all over the state—and it certainly helps that Yellowstone is here. It also wins points for not having any general state sales tax, which makes buying stuff a lot cheaper. The weather has been wonderful for most of our month here—sunny days, low humidity, and cool, bordering on cold, nights (but hearing about the short summers and long, cold winters with snow piling up would make us think twice about living here year-round). We found that folks were friendly and laid back. The state has hardly any population centers that merit being called a “city” so traffic is light. Gambling is legal in this state, and every gas station is also a casino, usually with video poker, keno, and video slot machines. Casinos are EVERYWHERE. (Not saying that’s a good thing, but I guess it helps with the no state sales tax.) And where else can you find a cattle guard at every interstate on/off ramp?? Montana definitely makes our “Top Ten States” list!  I predict that we’ll be back!

We’re now heading for Canyon, Texas to visit our granddaughter Jennifer and her boyfriend Austin. We’re avoiding interstates as much as possible, looking for more scenic routes so we can still enjoy the western scenery. Leaving Dillon, Montana, we dropped down into Idaho. We passed right by the Camas National Wildlife Reserve, so I [Carol] scheduled a stop to see if we could add some birds to our lifelist. Unfortunately we arrived in an atypical rainstorm, which made birding a little difficult, but we did drive around the wildlife viewing route and managed to spot a few birds: Swainson’s hawks, ruddy ducks (with their amazing blue bills), American coots (lots of them) and a big flock of white-faced ibis. The latter were lifer birds for us, so that made it worthwhile.

Leaving there, we took a scenic route that followed the Snake River and took us into Wyoming near Jackson Hole. When I was in college the first time (WAY back when) I always wanted to visit Jackson Hole because it was considered a very “cool” place—very Wild West, remote and outdoorsy. By that time, Boulder and Aspen, which had been the cool places, were starting to be considered too commercialized and Jackson Hole was more authentic. I badgered Jack into driving the extra 13 miles up to Jackson, just to see it and say I’d been there. (Jackson Hole is the name of the valley that the town Jackson is in.) Unfortunately, Jackson is no longer cool—it’s very congested and commercialized now. We managed to drive through congested roads to the heart of the old western town. You can see where it USED to be cool, but is just overrun with stores and people and strip malls now. We did see the big arches made of antlers that mark the four corners of the green park in the center of old town. THAT was cool. And we did manage a tiny glimpse of the Tetons from town—nice to see them once again.

The Snake River in a beautiful canyon.

Jackson, Wyoming. Hard to believe this used to be a "cool" place.

No place to park so Jack snapped this photo of the arch made of antlers as we squeezed our way through the traffic.

Back on our route, we took another scenic byway that followed the Green River south through Wyoming. At one point, we drove through a pretty valley and saw lots of white stuff on the hills and on the side of the road. We were trying to figure out whether it was sand, salt or what and finally we pulled over to investigate. It was hail, piled up on the side of the highway and covering the ground in places. We’d obviously just missed the hailstorm.

"What is that on the hill and the roadside?" Jack asked as we drove by.

Why, look, it's pea-sized hail.

Today we mostly stayed on I-80 and got across Wyoming and into Colorado on our way down into Texas. It seemed like we crossed the Continental Divide about three times! Jack said “hi” to some rivers that he’d fished previously, back in 2006 when we were out here. We saw a few antelope, some with babies. One thing we’ve noticed when driving on the western plains is how it seems there are always storms “out there” somewhere—the sky is so big and you can see it raining and storming far away, but you rarely get rained on. (However, tonight when we pulled into our KOA campsite, we did get rained on… but we’re nice and snug in our little van.)

The sky on the plains always looks like it's raining somewhere else.

Striking Gold in Bannack

We left Nelson Spring Creek and headed west so Jack could try again to check off the Beaverhead River and Carol could go birding there. We loved the ghost town of Bannack where the first Montana goldrush had started in 1862 with the discovery of gold in Grasshopper Creek. Turns out that Grasshopper Creek is a tributary of the Beaverhead River so if Jack can catch a trout there, he can check off the Beaverhead.

We took a route from I-90 that led us up the Jefferson River through the town of Twin Bridges and then into Dillon. The Bighole and the Beaverhead form the Jefferson River just downstream of Twin Bridges and we stopped there for supplies and a look at the lower Beaverhead. A few miles upstream of Twin Bridges is the rock known to the Shoshone Indians as Beaverhead. It is near here where Sacajawea spotted her homeland and where Lewis and Clark were desperate to find the Shoshone so they could get horses and head over the Rockies before winter set in. As luck would have it, when Lewis and Clark found the Shoshone, Sacajawea recognized the chief as her longlost brother. That reunion changed the history of the Lewis and Clark expedition.

The area around the Beaverhead is now under protection of a united conservancy which is protecting the marshland and all the wildlfie and plants. Off in the distance we saw sandhill cranes, pelicans and many other waterfowl. It's an amazing area to see and know you are standing in the footsteps of the Lewis and Clark expedition.

When we arrived in Dillon, we stopped at the flyshop where Carol bought her Tenkara flyrod to get one more piece of needed equipment. Outside is another touching sculpture of a cowboy/rancher watering his horse using his hat as a bucket. You can see and feel the close bond between the two in the eyes of the cowboy. A great sculpture.

Sculpture by: Bradford J. Williams "Friends drink first" - The cowboy has filled his hat with water from the pump so his horse can drink. Nowadays young bucks fill their big pickups with gasoline and pollute the air.

We arrived at our camp in Bannack in the early evening and took a walk to scout the Grasshopper Creek. The creek meanders through a sage brush covered valley and Jack decided to suit up and head upstream to give it a try.

Fishing the Grasshopper Creek, a tributary of the Beaverhead (by Jack)

When Carol and I scouted this stream, we noted a very large pool about 75 feet in diameter. I saw no rising trout in the pool, but I thought I heard one upstream.  I headed up to this pool, but again there were no trout rising. I tied on a number 16 Adams dry fly pattern. Even though the Adams pattern does not mimic a specific mayfly, it seems to mimic all mayflies and is a good all-purpose dry fly.
Several casts and drifts into the pond from the upstream creek side produced nothing. Nor did my several casts to the banks on the other side of the stream. About 25 or 30 feet upstream there was a nice-looking hole where the creek made a 90-degree bend. I waded across the stream to get a good casting position and then started casting upstream into the tail of the pool. When I reached the head of the pool, I cast just upstream and let the fly drift back into the pool. The glare on the water caused me to lose sight of the fly and when it should have passed the glare, I could not see the fly. While I felt nothing in my line, just in case, I set the hook. At first I thought all I had done was set the hook into a snag. But then the snag started to move ever so slowly. About this time, both the trout that I had on and I realized that I had hooked into a big trout. The first thing the trout did was race downstream toward the big pool stripping line off my reel as he sped downstream. I could not believe I had hooked into a large trout in such a small stream. The drag on my reel slowed him down and I started reeling him in against the current. Eventually I netted a 16-17 inch Brown trout. In the arctic twilight the fish looked like a golden trout. I thought to myself that I had struck gold again in the Grasshopper Creek and perhaps had the same reaction those miners of long ago had when they really found gold in this stream.

Jack fishing Grasshopper Creek in the ghost town of Bannack

After I came back to camp, happy as could be over checking off this river, we had supper and built a nice campfire, and sat by it till 10 pm or so.

Carol relaxing by our campfire in the arctic twilight.

Bannack Birding

This state park is noted as a birding "hot spot" and I wanted to try to check off a few more birds on our list while Jack fished. On Monday morning, Jack planned to fish the creek some more, and I took off for the ghost town with my binoculars. A staff member had told us the last time we were here that some young kestrels, just hatched in the early summer, liked to hang out in the trees near the visitor center, so I started there. Sure enough, it didn't take long to spot several young kestrels in the treetops, watching me watching them. I love these little falcons, with their streaked faces and fierce expressions. I kept an eye on them for a while as they flew from tree to tree, and took a few long-distance photos.

Kestral in the treetop above an abandoned home in Bannack

Then I decided to hike up Hangman's Gulch, where the original town gallows still stands on a slight rise near the main town. This area is very desert-like, with lots of sagebrush, and I could see a few birds flitting. When I made it up to the gallows, I spotted a flashy blue bird, a new one to me, and thought I caught enough field marks to identify it in my bird book. However, when I got back to the RoadTrek and the bird books, I couldn't make a positive ID. I thought it must be a Lazuli bunting, but I hadn't spotted a rusty necklace on the bird I saw. Fooey. Not too much later, Jack came back, saying that he hadn't had much luck fishing today, so I twisted his arm to hike back up to the gallows and try again to spot that bird. We didn't see the blue bird again, but did spot a small brown bird and both of us got a good look at him, so thought we'd be able to ID it in the book. Again, it's very frustrating how long it takes to find a bird in the bird books, but we finally agreed that the bird we'd spotted was a rock wren. First time we've seen one on this trip.

Hangman's Gulch

Since this will be our last night in Montana, we decided to drive into Dillon and splurge on a steak dinner. We rarely eat red meat anymore, but being surrounded by cattle ranches for a month has had an effect on us, I guess, and we both thought a steak would taste good. In Dillon, it took us a while to find a good steak place that was open on a Monday, but we finally narrowed in on a nice restaurant. It wasn't open yet, so we took the opportunity to visit the county historical museum that was right across the street. Lots of interesting historical and natural artifacts on gold mining, native Americans, cattle ranching, and lots of other things. One of the exhibits was a sizable exhibit of birds of the county (all collected, stuffed and mounted by the same man, over years).

When 5 o'clock came we hurried over to the restaurant and ordered our steaks. Man, were they good...

Back at the campsite with still lots of light left, I headed down the road with my binoculars, still looking for that blue bird that I didn't positively identify from this morning. I had heard a call that I thought was him, because the book said it sounded similar to the call of the indigo bunting, which I'm familiar with, only a lot faster. I heard something that sounded like that and kept looking around, and finally spotted the same type of bird, sitting on a sage bush. This time he was facing me so I could see his rusty necklace--it was indeed the Lazuli bunting, a new one for our life list. Still not quite as flashy as the bird we're still looking for, the painted bunting, but it was a very pretty cousin! That was satisfying, to go in search of a specific bird and finally find him...

We had another peaceful night sitting by the campfire, and then read till we fell asleep. The nights are pretty cool here at elevation, which makes for good sleeping.

Tuesday morning, I got out my new Tenkara fishing rod to practice some more in Grasshopper Creek. Jack thought a grasshopper imitation might be a good fly to try--very appropriate--so that's what got tied on. We hiked over the hill to a spot near where he caught his big brown trout on Sunday and I fished while Jack coached. No luck again. Jack tried his hand and got a few nibbles but didn't hook anything. Oh well. I think it will work when we get back to Craig's Creek, where the fish aren't as smart.

Carol with her Tenkara rod. The long, extremely light, graphite rod telescopes down into this short tube.

Carol making a cast with her Tenkara rod. Note, no reel. Just rod, line, and fly.

Carol loves her Tenkara.

We packed up and reluctantly headed out--we're sad to leave Montana, and specifically this campground, which has a lot going for it. (It doesn't have electricity or plumbing, but it does have free Wi-fi! Not sure how that works....)

Jacquie and Jackie

White Sulphur Springs...ahh! We reluctantly left it behind and headed down Route 89 to Livingston. Our destination was the KOA that we stayed at before, so Jack could fish the Armstrong Spring Creek. This time Jack plans to fish the Nelson Spring Creek which is on the east side of the Yellowstone River. It's a very pretty spring creek that is well kept.  Jack was here last Monday getting advice and flies from one of the owners and guide Jacquie Nelson. Jack claims the flies and advice he got from Jacquie that day helped him land two fish on the Armstrong and one on the Smith River. He was so impressed with Jacquie's knowledge that he arranged to have her as a guide this Saturday evening, August 2nd.
.
Morning Fishing the Nelson Spring Creek (by Jack)

We got up early Saturday morning, had breakfast in the RoadTrek, and then headed over to the Nelson. As we drove down to the creek, Carol and I noticed how different this creek is from the Armstrong. On Nelson all the buildings are well cared for and the lawns are all green and manicured. The Armstrong was just about the opposite. We were left with the impression that the folks running the Nelson cared for the stream and surroundings. I was the first fisherman on the stream and I noticed immediately that fish were rising. As I walked over to the stream, I recalled that Jacquie had told me that they had three sections where they raised trout. Yep, you guessed it, the trout I saw rising were in these sections where you were not allowed to fish.

Gorgeous view from Nelson Spring Creek.

I suited up and headed to the stream. Carol accompanied me with her binoculars and bird book.  A nice riffle flowed into a hole in a bend of the creek and that is where I got my first strike. I continued to fish that hole with no luck so I moved downstream. There is a hut on the creek with picnic tables and a toilet. I noticed three cars had arrived so I expected to find these fishermen downstream. As I continued downstream I crossed a small, one-foot wide bridge (plank) that spanned a small 3-foot wide tributary. To my surprise, I scared out two huge trout that scurried off. Once on the main stream again, I managed to scare a lot of trout that were lying next to the bank. All of this reminded me of my days of fishing mountain brook trout streams in Pennsylvania as a kid. We used to crawl up to the banks of the stream in order to not scare off the fish.

Having come to the posted end of the stream without a strike and without seeing any other fishermen, I concluded that there must be a lot more stream to fish upstream of where I had started. As I walked back upstream I found most of the fisherman in areas where the Nelson's had created nice long pools with large logs and pathways jutting out into the stream. I could see the trout in these waters and they were feeding on something. They were large trout and they continued to move about jostling for the best feeding lanes. It was that time for the Pale Morning Duns (PMDs) to hatch.  I targeted one large trout who stayed in one spot long enough for me to tie on and try every PMD imitation I had. In desperation, I started to search the water next to me and saw tiny bugs floating in the water that looked like Tricos, a very very small black and white mayfly. I found I had one with me in a size 22 or 24. I tied it on with a length of very small 7x tippet. I passed it over the trout I had targeted and, WHAM!, he took it. This was a big trout and he immediately took to the air to try to get rid of the hook. He made several large runs that likely spooked all the fish on both sides of me (probably to their dismay, both fishermen next to me left).

I netted this 20-inch rainbow. He had a large girth and weighed maybe 4 to 5 pounds. He had my small Trico in his mouth which I removed and gently released the trout back into the water. He stayed in the water about 4 feet away. I even went back and got Carol. The fish was still in the same spot feeding again.

Is this a Trico, two Tricos mating, an ant or what? All I know is that big rainbow trout sipped it off the surface.

Evening Fishing the Nelson Spring Creek

Carol made lunch (it's her turn to cook now) and we headed over to the hut. Other fishers came in and we chatted with them. One fisherwoman had gone to Sweetbrier College in Amherst, Virginia around the same time that Carol was at Mary Washington College, and she and Carol swapped women's college stories and birding experiences.

Around 4 pm my guide Jacquie Nelson showed up. Carol took our pictures together and played on the fact that we both had the same first name (different spellings, and my original true first name as Jackie is a long story). So Jacquie and Jackie went off to fish together. What an experience. At one point we were on the river when a sudden Montana storm, accompanied by serious thunder and lightning, came up. We got out of the water and tried our best to find shelter in low bushes. Jacquie's husband (also a guide) and his client had rain gear and both lay in the grass. Jacquie and I pretty much got soaked from the chest up (we both had on chest high waders and boots). I hooked two nice trout and learned a lot about targeting fish, getting drag free drifts, and how to set the hook to minimize missing strikes. The trout were still very choosey and would not take a lot of the flies in spite of my "good drag-free drifts" (according to Jacquie). We also got to chat about our lives. I admire the Nelsons. The family has been in Montana for seven generations. Jacquie and her husband are entrepreneurs and I admire Americans who create their own living and don't depend on the government.

Jacquie and Jackie

Jackie getting instructions from Jacquie.

 Carol's Birding on the Nelson

Carol here now. The Nelson Spring Creek had a host of varied birds feeding on the flies, fish and vegetation. I spent most of my day birding and managed to identify 17 species. Just one was a new one for our life list, the red-naped sapsucker, but it was exciting identifying that woodpecker-like bird.  I saw several but most were juveniles, which haven't gotten their full feathers in and don't look exactly like the pictures in the bird books, so it was challenging. It was a great birding day! I'm hoping to do some more birding on our trip to Texas, and from there back to Virginia. (Still on our quest to see the male painted bunting--maybe in Texas this time??)

Mountain Bible Church

Our pastor David Cox and his wife Ninette are missionaries from an organization called Village Missions, which helps to sponsor full-time pastors in small rural areas in the U.S. and Canada. I've been hoping to come across another Village Missions church to attend on our travels and it finally happened. Mountain Bible Church is in Livingston, and turned out to be just around the corner (maybe 2 miles) from our KOA campground. It's a small but growing congregation and they were very welcoming. I talked to the pastor Nathan Pittman and his wife Addie for a while before church and it was interesting comparing notes on the differences and similarities in our two VM churches. They have been in Montana for 5 years, coming here from Florida and never having been in Montana before, but they love it here and seem like a great fit for this very relaxed and down-to-earth congregation. A lovely service. Lots of young people and kids, which is encouraging.

Mountain Bible Church, Livingston, Montana, a Village Missions sponsored church, like our church back home.

View from Mountain Bible Church front door.

Jack with pastor Nathan Pittman (talking fishing!)

Now we're on our way back to Bannack State Park campground (the ghost town) so Jackie can try fishing Grasshopper Creek, a tributary of the Beaverhead River, which is the only Montana Top 100 river that Jack got skunked on... He's going to try again before we leave Montana, so he can check it off!

White Sulphur Springs and the Smith River

We love discovering new hot springs. So when Jack needed to fish the Smith River in Montana, we chose to fish a spot that was near White Sulphur Springs. Before we left Livingston, we stopped at the fly fishing museum there, which had been recommended to us by the couple, Sherry and Doug, we met at our last campsite. Sherry is on the board of the museum, and she gave us a tour of the place. Some amazing flies and antique fishing equipment there. We ended up joining the International Federation of Fly Fishers, which is an educational and conservational organization that sponsors the museum and a lot of other programs. (Jack is excited because as a member he will receive a great fly fishing magazine every month.)

The drive to White Sulphur was scenic, through valleys and ranches and sagebrush. We saw whitetail deer, mule deer, and a few antelope along the way. We also stopped to photograph a neat roadside statue of a mountain man, waving at us. These fur trappers and traders arrived in this area not long after Lewis and Clark passed through here. We had to wave back--felt like a farewell wave to bygone years of the West.

Thunder Jack

 A tiny town that we drove through had a sign on an old stone building saying "Bank" and "Bar"--interesting combo that we also had to photograph.

Cash a check, buy a beer.

In White Sulphur Springs, we booked a room at the old spa motel for two nights. It's a very good value, maybe the best we've ever found. The price (cheap) of the room allows you access to all the pools any time (they're open from 6 am until 11 pm). This is a beautiful hot spring with three separate pools. The temperature of the one right next to our room is 102 degrees F, about the same temperature as our hot tub back home. This pool has a waterfall, water jets in each corner and mood lighting for evening and night time soaks. On one wall is a large mural depicting Indians gathering and bathing in the hot springs long before the white man showed up. The temperature in the second pool, another large pool, is 96 degrees F. This pool is also surrounded by a large mural depicting all the wildlife that can be found in Montana. The artist who did these murals was pretty good. Beyond the second pool in a separate room is the third pool, whose temperature is 106 degrees F. This is a smaller pool and when you open the door to this pool, you are walking into a steam bath. We can only stay in this pool about 10 minutes. At night, blue-pink mood lighting is in the water and shimmers down a walkway leading to other guest rooms. When we awoke this morning around 7:30 am (July 31st), we headed for the 102 degree pool to get in the mood for Jack's fishing adventure on the upper Smith River.

View from the doorway of our room. This pool is 102 deg. F

This is the 96 deg. F pool,

The 106 deg F steam bath and pool.

 

The 102 pool again. Our room 16 is on the left.

Fishing the Smith River (by Jack)

Turns out that this is the third Smith River that I've fished in Top 100 Trout Streams in America. The first was the Smith River near Martinsville, Virginia where Carol grew up. This is a nice tailwater river and I fished it often when Carol and I would visit her Mom and Dad. The second Smith River is in Northern California above Eureka. This is a beautiful river but, as my fishing buddy Bud Hennessey and I discovered, it is a river where all the rainbow trout leave to spend their time in the Pacific Ocean and only return once a year as steelhead trout.

The Smith River in Montana is most famous for its guided float tours along an isolated 60 mile long canyon. There is a lottery that you must enter once a year to get a permit to float it, and then you must use a state approved guide to float the river. Wading access to the river is almost nonexistent. But there is one isolated spot upstream of Camp Baker (where lucky lottery fishermen put in with their guide to float and fish the canyon) that can be accessed and fished from the bank. Carol and I targeted that spot and got up early so I could grab a good spot on the river, which is about a 25 mile drive from White Sulphur, 15 of which is along a dirt road. No problem getting there with our RoadTrek equipped with the "aggressive" tires our mechanic in Covington, VA put on for us!

When we arrived I was surprised and pleased to see that I was the first (and only) fisherman on the stream. No trout were rising and, having learned my lesson, I immediately tied two very small (size 20) nymphs onto a 12-foot 7x leader. It wasn't long until I had my first strike. Unfortunately, that strike and the next three strikes led to the fish getting off. Long distance releases like this are OK, but you can't tell which nymph the trout hit on. Moving downstream I found a very deep hole and a long bend in the river near a towering cliff. I knew there had to be trout in there somewhere. I noticed one or two trout rise to take a nymph and noted it was around 11:00 am, the time when the mayfly called a Pale Morning Dun (PMD for short) sometimes starts coming off the river. I tied on an emerger pattern and the "Usual" pattern the guide I met on the Armstrong Spring Creek gave me. A long cast up against the cliff resulted in hooking a big jumping rainbow trout that was around 14-16 inches long. Another Top 100 river checked off my list.

A Pale Morning Dun is on the cover of my new IFFF Flyfisher magazine. All mayflies have 4 states: The egg, the nymph, the dun and the spinner. This picture shows a mature male PM. What appears as a red cap are the male's large eyes so he can find a female and grab her with his large front legs. The female lays her eggs in the water and then dies (becomes a spinner). The male dies also and some become spinners. The eggs hatch and the larva (nymphs) grow by eating moss and other stuff found on the stream bottom. A year later the nymph rises to the surface (becomes an emerger), dries its wings and flies off. This dun changes once more into the mature adult shown above. All this happens in one year. The male and female adults have no digestive system and no mouth. So they can't bite you. Their sole purpose in the day or two they live outside the water is reproduction. Wonderful and strange.

Here I am on the Smith River fishing with nymphs that look like the PMD nymph.

I fished a bit more downstream but, as it was getting hot and I saw no more trout rising, I quit fishing and went back to the RoadTrek. I had planned to fish a tributary stream called Sheep Creek with the hope that I could catch some brook trout for dinner. My Delorme topo map book is an old (1997) edition and even though it indicated a fishing access point on Sheep Creek, it doesn't seem to exist anymore. Carol and I decided to head back to the hot spring for soaking.