The Mountain Keepers

Sean Jansen

I slowly unzipped and peeled back the rain fly of my tent after hearing chewing and crunching noises for an alarm clock in the Sky Top Basin of the Beartooth Mountains. I knew it wasn’t a bear.But also knew it wasn’t a deer sitting at an elevation of around11,000 feet. As I slowly peeled back the tent flap, the view of Granite Peak was illuminated with gorgeous sunrise light. But the mountain goats five feet from my tent sifting through the alpine rock environment stole the morning show.

Granite Peak in South Central Montana’s Beartooth Mountains is the tallest peak in the state. Sitting at 12,799 feet, it stands far from alone with alpine lakes and 32 of the other highest peaks in the state. Though the grandeur of the peak sparkles with morning glow amongst its other granite relatives, few inhabitants call the area home, and for good reason.

It’s an inhospitable landscape. Unforgiving even within a moments notice. The beautiful sunshine of a gorgeous summer day can turn to death defying arrays of violence only summoned from the wraths of god. Snow at any moment, lightening for hours amongst a treeless landscape, and bitter cold. Among the iceberg laden lakes with the occasional salmonid, the pika and marmot squeaking from the shelter of eroded granite blocks, and the occasional passing bird of prey cruising the skyline waiting for something to emerge, the landscape is virtually lifeless. But among those the thick furred, horned and hoofed mountain goats seem to cherish the far from friendly environment and call this place home.

Constantly scouring the basin of the mighty surrounding peaks scratching, licking, and smelling for any sort of greenery, these creatures are the perfect adaptation to any alpine scenario. With an incredible thick and white coat, they can with stand even the most bitter of winds that sweep down from the highest elevations all the while blending in wonderfully to the snowy landscape in case any predatory creature come looking. Their hooves are the biggest asset they poses. As they are surefooted with two toes that are spread wide and evenly to provide the greatest balance range of any other hoofed creature in the states. Along with the most gripped as any climbing shoe on the market.

Though incredibly curious as I found out mere feet away while I drank my coffee from the shelter of my tent, they can indeed be aggressive depending on their kids and territory. They move constantly as the lack of any sort of green they ingest is limited. So they climb and search any and all areas where food may grow.

Humans have indeed successfully climbed and hiked Granite Peak as a token to say one has indeed reached the roof of Montana. However none of us possess the skills that these creatures utlize on a daily and annual basis. Our time in the Beartooth Mountains in and around Granite peak is very short and seasonal while they simply watch us for two months a year and enjoy the rest to themselves. A lifestyle, I’m sure they are just fine with.

On the set of Kevin Costner’s “Yellowstone" 

By Brian D’Ambrosio

On a picture perfect May morning, a black Yukon Denali delivers bags of ice at the buzzing basecamp of trailers and tents. At the fairgrounds in Darby, numerous buses come and go, dropping off extras, who are dressed in cowboy hats, blue denim Wranglers, and flannel shirts, sporting looks of true grit. A number of crew members zip by with intent, including a young lady with a large wooly microphone on the end of a pole that looks a bit like a small dog.  

While eating quickly at the breakfast line of the catering unit – offerings featuring classic Mexican breakfasts, ranging from huevos rancheros and eggs with pork machaca to tortilla variations – a pair of camera operators inspect the “dope sheet,” a register of scenes that have already been filmed.

With the low whistle of wind strikingly steady, the mountainous backdrop reveals a particularly dazzling presence. It’s the kind of charisma that tilts fast from grand to grandiose. Cast, crew, and various personnel flit in and out as the morning sun hovers behind a scrim of summit snow. It’s the final week of shooting the first season of “Yellowstone,” the excitement rising up in the air like coffee in a percolator.

The narrative of “Yellowstone” is set in Montana, and the show is filmed partially in Darby in and around the Chief Joseph Ranch, nestled in the foothills of the Bitterroot mountain range along Montana's boundary with Idaho. “Yellowstone” follows the Dutton family, who control the largest contiguous ranch in the U.S. Kevin Costner, who’s also an executive producer of the series, plays the fifth-generation ranching patriarch John Dutton. “Yellowstone” is directed by Taylor Sheridan, “Sicario” (2015) and “Hell or High Water” (2016) writer who turned director with “Wind River” (2017), an acclaimed crime thriller set on a Native American reservation.

Gil Birmingham, a veteran of more than 60 film and television productions, appears in the series in the role of casino owner Thomas Rainwater, and he describes “Yellowstone” as “an epic contemporary drama.”

“Thomas Rainwater is a highly educated man and he has quotable lines,” said Gil Birmingham. “He has profound lines, and the script is full of timely and injected monologues. Thomas is one of the story lines about the competing interests for the Dutton ranch. What I love about the show is that it’s not black and white, but portrayals of both sides of things, and lots of gray, and it’s a real compelling, authentic, and unique perspective of Montana life. It’s exploring themes of Western loyalty, family, betrayal, and a family deciding just what’s loyal and what’s legal. The patriarch who is doing his best to leave a legacy, and of his responsibility of what’s been passed on to him.”

 “Big-Budget Theatrical Every Week”

Director Taylor Sheridan, who was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay for Hell or High Water, told Deadline in May that he envisions a “big-budget theatrical every week,” and that structurally, he approaches the show’s filming with the same slickness and feel of a movie production.

Montana has provided Sheridan with an exuberantly dramatic locale for such a powerfully planned series. (More than 20 Utah locations are employed, and the majority of the interiors were shot at the state-of-the-art Utah Film Studios in Park City.) At least several hundred extras have been used for various Montana scenes, including ranch-hands for the Dutton family. Behind the screen, the Paramount Network hired approximately 60 locals for transportation, production assistants and other crew jobs, one of whom is Pamela Hart, a fifth-generation Bitterroot resident.

“I’ve met some fabulous and friendly people,” said Pamela Hart. “Everyone is coming from some place different and everyone wants a little tidbit or piece of information, a hiking trail, a place to hike, information about lions, tigers, bears, everything. This is a big boost in the arm for the Bitterroot. It’s a boost for locals.”

Hart has transported Costner several times from the basecamp to the Chief Joseph Ranch.

“Costner is so down to earth, a real person with a real big sense of humor.”

Local Vendors “blood life”

Set designer Carla Curry first worked in Montana while employed as part of the production of the 1998 family drama “Everything That Rises,” which starred former Paradise Valley resident Dennis Quaid  and also served as his directorial debut. Shot in the lush breadth of Livingston, the TNT production cast Quaid as Jim Clay, a fierce ranchowner living off land passed down through generations of his family who fights to hold onto his tracts when big business interests move into the area and spike prices. Curry said that she “jumped” at the chance to return to the state.

“We’ve been here (in Darby) shooting “Yellowstone” in July and August and at the end of October, and for a short stint before Christmas,” said Carla Curry. “So we’ve been here for all seasons. The first time I came out during “Everything That Rises” it was during the fires at Lolo, and now we’ve been here through the flooding in the Bitterroot.”

Curry said that the she’s been “up and down and around” the Bitterroot Valley searching for items such as cowboy hats, clothing, and assorted tack and even purchased a replica set of antique antler chandeliers that were reproduced by an artisan in Stevensville.

“There are some great antique and furniture stores around and they have all been receptive if we get into a pinch,” said Curry. “The local vendors are our blood life. It’s not just furniture, but Home Depot and the local gas stations, and all the way up to Missoula. While we are breaking from shooting, we have some 30 houseplants that come out of the (Chief Joseph) lodge that need to be watered and taken care of. We’ve had them hauled and paid a local nursery to take care of them when we are gone for a month or two. It’s the little things like that that people never think about.”

Perri Eppie, the series' publicity coordinator, estimated spending in the state is “about $1.5 million,” with approximately “$500,000 on hotels and car rentals” and “about $250,000 locally on supplies.” Propmaster Ian Raylance said that he has been able to locate most of the prop resources locally, with the minority of goods being shipped in from California.

“Typically, we spend a lot on unique elements,” said Ian Raylance. “We needed a bear rug and we found one at one of the local antique shops. We’ve gotten great stuff by Victor, saddles, bridles and ropes. There is one scene in which Kevin receives some stitches on his forehead after being bucked from a horse, and we found this beautiful circa late-1800s handheld mirror, a beautiful thing.”

Similar to other out-of-state cast and crew members, Raylance, of Utah, is renting a home in Hamilton throughout the duration of filming. “The area has been losing population and we want to keep as much money as possible as locally as we can. It’ a huge influx of cash, and we are covering just about every hotel between here and Missoula.”

Chief Joseph Ranch

Most of the Montana filming takes place on the Chief Joseph Ranch, which dates its settlement back to the 1880s. The dwelling that serves as John Dutton's is abundant with unusual nuances such as its original, irreplaceable Tiffany lamps.  (The great room, the bedrooms, the offices and much of the rest of the interior has been reproduced at the studio in Utah.) The crew had only around two weeks to arrange the lodgings for production; designers repainted some of the out buildings and built a bigger corral to accommodate filming.

Initial water rights were granted to the property shortly after settlement and thereafter approximately 1,400 acres of apples were being harvested within its limit. Built in 1917, the log structure was designed by Bates & Gamble, an architectural firm in Toledo, Ohio, as a summer hideaway for William Ford and Judge Hollister of Ohio. In the years since, the 5,000-square-foot house, stretched across 2,500-acres, has seen a number of owners. But it was L.A.-based artist and production designer Ruth De Jong who scouted and recommended the ranch as a shooting location.

“Ruth took a long and hard look and she came up with Chief Joseph Ranch,” said Curry. “The ranch has become another character on the show, not just an inanimate object. You couldn’t realize how fabulous it was until you laid your eyes on it. It was also one of the fastest turnarounds I’ve ever had to do, and we didn’t even have time to shop. Yet, we’ve been able to fill it in with stuff all up and down the Bitterroot Valley.”

“Chief Joseph Ranch is intended to represent the residential look as if a billionaire lived there, and not a new money ranch,” added Perri Eppie.

“Dallas” Meets “The Sopranos”

“Yellowstone” is an ambitious drama that’s being described as a cross between “Dallas” and “The Sopranos,” a modern representation that doesn’t just come off the production house assembly line. According to nominal press material, the Dutton family must contend with constant encroachments by land developers, tension with an Indian reservation and political quarrel with America's first national park.

This afternoon the production is completing the final episode of the first season. (The show hasn’t been renewed for a second season — a pilot is currently being screened for the critics and cast members — but this is planned as a multiyear project.) In the roping area adjacent to a cluster of barns, the jostling frames of cowboys and calves synthesize into a cohesive whole – several hours of takes and re-takes which will ultimately yield but a few seconds of usable film.

A bunch of serious-looking men on horses engage in “rhubarb,” also known as background conversation by extras. (The word “rhubarb” produces the effect of real conversation, getting mouths to move believably.) In a small tent, a board displays information about the scene being filmed, scene numbers, take numbers, etc. Dolly machines provide small platforms for the cameras, rolling along special tracks. Everything is running orderly, cooperatively, even the fickle Montana spring weather.

“The film gods are definitely on our side today,” said one of the assistant camera operators. “They were predicting a few days of rain all this week, but it’s all sun right now. It’s truly incredible.”

“We’ve got an incredible cinematographer (Ben Richardson) of sweeping ideas who is often looking for ways to integrate the environment as another character in the show,” added actor Gil Birmingham.

Director Taylor Sheridan told the Salt Lake City Tribune recently that what he wanted to do “was essentially make a 10-hour movie that happened to air on television.” Paramount Network gave him the unique latitude to treat it as if a self-contained motion picture. Mindful of the failings of previous “Westerns,” the ones that tend to inspire a dreary sense of déjà vu, Sheridan said that he’s committed to keeping the dialogue and the characters nuanced.

But it’s harder now than it was then for a television show to stand out from the crowds. After previewing its feature-length premiere episode, Variety magazine said that the program “is stunningly shot, and yet beneath its mountain vistas lies nothing new, just more squabbling."

Nonetheless, the cast and crew are optimistic that the series warrants an opportunity and chance to break out.

“The scripts are so good and captivating and Taylor is the new Western storyteller,” said set designer Carla Curry. “It’s a well-woven story for sure. This one is special, and it was written for Montana, and we are grateful that we even get to do some of it in Montana. It’s been a leap of faith from Paramount.”

"I'll take searching for Wi-Fi signal at the base of a mountain over sitting at my desk any day,” said Perri Eppie, the series' publicity coordinator. “The Bitterroot community has been so welcoming and a huge asset in making Montana a character in and of itself on ‘Yellowstone.’"

The Paramount Network has announced a premiere date for “Yellowstone” — it’s scheduled to debut June 20 at 7 p.m. MST. (Paramount Network is the rebranded Spike channel.) “Yellowstone” screens in Missoula at the Wilma Theatre June 14.

Rainy Days

As I write this, a steady rain is coming down outside. The droplets, falling succinctly one after another, create a translucent grey curtain outside my window. My toes scrunch up inside my shoes longing to frolic freely in sandals again. June has officially arrived in Montana, but it seems that the spring rains desire to linger a tad bit longer.

Rather than sitting at home pouting during a rainstorm, use the dismal weather as an excuse to take in a number of different fun-filled activities you likely won’t consider once the sunshine and warmth returns outside. Here are 8 suggestions to fill up and entertain you on the next rainy day.

1. Visit a Museum

Montana is a state rich in history. One up your last history lesson from high school or college by visiting one of Montana’s many museums. In the Helena area? The Montana Historical Society is a must see. From Big Medicine, the renowned white bison, to a 2,000 square foot gallery featuring original artwork from Montana’s “Cowboy Artist” Charlie Russell, there’s interesting artifacts to see in every corner. There are also currently two special exhibits highlighting Montana during World War I.

Prepping for the next Jurassic Park film installment this summer? Museum of the Rockies in Bozeman delivers a one-of-a-kind dinosaur experience in the Siebel Dinosaur Complex. Housing one of the country’s largest collections of North American dinosaur fossils, including 13 T. Rex Specimens, you’ll be glad the exhibits are merely bones.

2. Cozy up at a local coffee house

Sure you’ve been pounding the caffeine all week, but what about cozying up with a chai latte at your favorite local coffee shop with no agenda or time limit. It can even just be a coffee date with yourself. Just sip your drink, take in the comings and goings of those around you, and breathe easy knowing this peaceful moment will reward you in full for the rest of the day.

3. Try an indoor climbing gym

Whether you’re an avid climber or just looking for a new and challenging activity, an indoor climbing gym is the perfect solution. From Stonetree Climbing Center in Helena and Spire Climbing Center in Bozeman to the Hi-Line in Great Falls and Freestone Climbing in Missoula, there are plenty of gyms to choose from. With most gyms offering shoe and harness rentals, all you need to bring is yourself and a “lets’ do this” kind of attitude.

4. Take in a show

I use the term “show” loosely to include everything from movies and plays to musical performances and other theatrics. Theatres like Grandstreet in Helena and the historic Virginia City Opera House highlight local and regional talent with unique performances you can’t see elsewhere. Whether you’re taking in the latest summer box office film or a local play, your rainy afternoon will be an enjoyable one.

5. Visit an art gallery

Taking a leisurely stroll through a local art gallery is the perfect way to stay busy when the weather outside is cold, wet, and downright yucky. Whether its oil paintings, photography, ceramics, or installations, art is meant to be observed, absorbed, and digested mentally. That process takes the time that a rainy day can lend.

6. Take a brewery tour

As of February 2018, there are 73 breweries in the state of Montana with 12 known breweries in the planning stages. Undoubtedly you’ve tantalized your tastebuds enjoying beverages from at least a few of these, but why not take a tour to learn how your favorite IPAs and ales are actually brewed.

7. Visit Lewis and Clark Caverns

While this geologic wonder receives heavy traffic all summer long, it is an ideal destination when the weather outside isn’t suitable for much else. Regardless of what the temperature and weather outside is, the caverns maintain a year-round temperature of around 50 degrees. One of the most decorated limestone caverns in the Northwest, Lewis and Clark Caverns’ stalagmites and stalactites are a must see or re-see for all visitors to the area.

8. Mud Puddle photo shoot

Recently my wedding photographer, Garrett Thompson and his partner, Jacquie Smith with Floating Leaf Studios in Helena scheduled a special series of photo shoots appropriately titled “Mud Puddles.” Children and families were invited to gather up their rain boots and umbrellas and come, quite literally, to play around in mud puddles while getting their picture taken. The result were some of the most joyful and fun-loving photos I have seen in a long time. Whether you actually hire a professional to do a shoot like this of your own or just take the pictures yourself, I can guarantee you’ll end up with photos you won’t soon forget.

Dogpacking in Montana

The “domestic dog” (Canis familiaris) – how we all love our dogs! - “man's best friend”.  In fact, according to Wikipedia: “The archaeological record shows the first undisputed dog remains buried beside humans 14,700 years ago, with disputed remains occurring 36,000 years ago”, so, people have been walking (hiking) with dogs for a very long time.  In fact, dogs were the first beasts of burden – millennia before horses, llamas or any other animal.  Seems to me, then, that backpacking with your furry friend, sharing the load and the trip should be in our mutual genes, a natural, so to speak.

I’ve heard that people are either “dog people” or not.  Well, I am definitely a dog person.  But it wasn’t until about 25 years ago that my family and I were in a position to actually have dogs.  They have been at our side on the trail ever since, sharing in the fun and the scenery, carrying their fair share of gear and food on our outings (except in national parks).  I haven’t seen a dog yet that doesn’t love getting out on the trail – either as a day hike or a full backpacking trip.  Every dog I have had. has gone “bananas” when they see me pull the daypack or backpack out of the closet.  Dogs just love getting out!

As a rule of thumb, we set an upper limit of pack weight as a quarter of the weight of the animal.  I have medium to large dogs (labs), and my dogs run about 60-70 lbs.  So, a quarter of their weight would be around 15 lbs.  In reality, it is less, as it is difficult to get to that much weight before running out of space in the packs.  Still I do shoot for 10 – 12 lbs.  Some of that will obviously be her food, but that still leaves room for some nice “luxuries” that I wouldn’t take if I was going bare bones ultralight on my own (see Backpacking into Retirement – My Journey to the “Light Side”, Distinctly Montana, June 2018).  I have modified my dog’s pack so she can also carry my wading boots “to boot” on trips that include fishing. But, beyond the utility of carrying some of the load, it is far more the companionship on the trail that really matters, especially when I am going solo.

As any lab owner knows, labs not only love the hiking, they love the water – boy do they love water!  In fact, this can be one of the major challenges of backcountry fishing – keeping my dog out of the hole before I fish it!  But who can get mad?  Its almost as much fun watching their enjoyment in the stream as it is pulling fish out of it.  Its part of the experience with my dog.

Just like humans, dogs need conditioning.  This isn’t a problem for me.  As an older hiker, I need a lot of conditioning before the summer backpacking season – so “Mysti”, my current hiking buddy, conditions along with me – getting out for weekend warm-up hikes.  But one additional note here.  Its not just the physical conditioning that is important for your pooch.  Their feet are just as important.  Its easy for us as we wear boots.  Feet develop calluses and toughen up as the animal walks on rough terrain.  However, during the winter, they can soften up when walking on just snow.  So it is important to start out slow, and then find rockier areas to hike through the spring.  Even so, I had one trip that took us through some unexpectedly sharp terrain.  My dog ended up with cuts on her feet that required first aid and some extra care on the way out.  Luckily I was prepared.

Once you get a pack for your companion, be aware it will take some time for them to adjust to their new width.  Be prepared for running into trees and rocks.  Be on the lookout for obstacles on the trail so you can be proactive.  One of the toughest, will be deadfalls across the trail, especially if they are reasonably new, with lots of branches intact.  Its one thing for us tall bipeds to part the branches and clamber through – but its quite the obstacle course for a dog with a pack.  I will often just take her pack through these barriers myself.  And then there are always stream crossings.  Sometimes the biggest challenge is getting our dog not to just jump in, pack and all and soak everything that’s inside of it.  That’s fine if its a shallow crossing, but with deep, swift crossings, I like to take the pack across myself, even if it takes extra trips.  This leaves your dog to swim across unfettered, and keeps your gear dry.

Finally, a word about bears.  We live in Montana and bears in the backcountry are a fact.  I have heard a few different things about bears and dogs.  What some folks have warned me about, was a situation where an unleashed dog goes after a bear, barking at it etc.  Then the bear would get aroused and charge the dog.  It doesn’t take much imagination to see this could result in the dog running back to you for protection with an angry bear in tow!  It seems plausible, but in 25 years, this hasn’t happened to me.  What has happened recently was once, when we were camped on the Middle Fork of the Flathead River, a large black bear appeared on the opposite bank.  Our dog barked, we shouted, but it didn’t seem to be concerned about us.  I suspect this was a bear that had come out of the Park to the north, and so was somewhat familiar with people.  Later that night it must have crossed and come close to camp.  Our dog barked a bit, but then tried to hide under our tent! (we were camped on a sandbar).  So, its something to consider as to the right solution for you and your dog – tie up at night, or leave free.  Different dogs behave differently.

If dogpacking is something you think you might be interested in trying with your best friend, and want to learn more about it, REI has a web site with some great tips.  Its under their “Expert Advice” section: “Hiking or Backpacking with Your Dog”,  https://www.rei.com/learn/expert-advice/hiking-dogs.html.

You might also enjoy 6 Tips for Hiking With Your Dogs.  Read and learn!

Happy Trails!

Graytrekker AKA Doug Stevens

Take me to the River

When I was a boy my father built a redwood-strip canoe. He was a master hobbyist and woodworker and this was one of his finer creations. We would float in his canoe on the Farmington River in Connecticut, enjoying the sensation of being away from it all as we paddled through a corridor of greenery and wildlife.

Rivers draw me as they draw so many other people. Many of my life’s finest experiences have centered on rivers – the St. John in Maine, the Green in Utah, The Middle Fork Salmon in Idaho, the Tatshenshini-Alsek in Canada and Alaska, the Yarra in Australia, the Missouri and Yellowstone in Montana. It’s hard to beat a riverside campsite for comfort and tranquility, and even harder to beat a river trip for camaraderie and adventure among friends.

Rivers connect us to far-away places with their flow. Their heads are in the high mountains, their tails in the sea or another river. Rivers have always been travel ways, and much of our nation’s history revolves around rivers like the Mississippi, Missouri, Columbia, Snake, Potomac and Connecticut.

A river is a kind of magic, really. The most useful substance on Earth – water – is delivered 24/7, 365, for free. Yet we tend to take rivers for granted, damming them and polluting them and overfishing them, lining the banks with rip rap and building vacation homes right on the bank.

Most species of terrestrial wildlife depends on riverside habitat. Take a float on the Madison and you can hardly turn a bend in the river without spotting eagles on a nest, deer leaping through the brush, pelicans fishing the shallows, otters fishing the deeper pools, beavers swimming with branches, raccoons seeking crayfish, osprey hovering for fish, and kingbirds snatching flying insects. Busy swallow nests line the cliffs, warblers flit among the willows, and cows come down to drink.

And of course there is a whole other world below the surface, where a wide variety of alluvial denizens lurk among the tree roots and rocks. Fishing brings people from all over the world to Montana, partly because we still have thriving native (and non-native) fisheries. Wild trout hold an allure like no other fish, causing grown men and women to salivate at the thought of hooking and netting a sparkling fish, only to turn it loose again.

This year marks the 50^th anniversary of the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act, which protects the wild, free-flowing qualities of over 12,000 miles of US rivers and streams, including parts of the Missouri and Flathead in Montana. The East Rosebud River may soon enjoy Wild and Scenic designation as well, with all three of Montana’s congressmen offering legislation to protect the river. Other Montana candidate rivers include the Smith, the Gallatin and the upper Yellowstone.

For our wedding gift my wife and received a new canoe and all the necessary gear, assuring our fate as river rats. We still hit the Madison or Jefferson in the canoe as often as we can. Lately we’ve been upping the ante by floating rivers on Stand Up Paddleboards, bringing new challenges to what are easy rapids in a canoe. Next week my wife and I will be rafting down the Yampa and Green rivers in Colorado and Utah.

We are blessed in Montana with a variety of beautiful and accessible rivers. Go to the river, catch a fish, have a picnic, take a swim, float a ways. The river will bring you peace, plenty, friendship and adventure. Take me to the river.

~Phil Knight

Bear Attack!

Randy certainly had not planned on lying down in the middle of the trail that day.  But there he was, clutching his now dead flashlight.  His face and neck were covered with dry-black blood, flies buzzing around.  After he realized I was there, looking down at him incredulously, he managed to put a few halting words together.

“Don’t go in there…!  There’s a bear.  It’s his home.  He lives there...”

Just moments before I had been absorbed in the numbing foot over foot trudge up the steep trail, focused only on the tops of my boot laces, hunched over, making slow time.  I almost walked right over him. 
Whooa…Oh.  OH!  I think I said in astonishment.  And then, looking at what lay before me: “Holy...  Are you… Are you OK?”    Then he told me, in halting words, of his bear attack.

I ditched my large pack, helped him to his feet and together we stumbled downhill to the trailhead, just 1/8 of a mile away.  As I stopped to let him rest he explained that he had hiked all night putting painfully slow distance between him and the Lincoln Lake backcountry campground.  Eventually, he said he could hear cars on the road, could even see some flashes of headlights through the trees as they passed by in the early morning darkness.  But he could go no further and lay down, facing the dark sky,   spent.

I had left the trailhead early to beat the July heat, destination Lincoln Lake.  Over the previous weeks my partner and I had knocked off all the other seasonal evaluations on the backcountry campsites in our district and I drew the short straw for Lincoln, “Stinkin’ Lincoln”, as it was dubbed because it was just so hard to reach and a singularly boring 8.8-mile trail in.

I did not have a radio to call Headquarters to report finding Randy so I drove to the District Office.  Back then, 1972, there was no ambulance service that responded to Park calls so we folded Randy into Dave’s patrol car and drove him to the nearest hospital in Whitefish.

There, Randy took on an almost celebratory fame.  After all, it is not common for any emergency department in North America to admit a bear mauling victim.  Soon, all kinds of health care personnel were swooping into the room, taking measurements, taking photographs, asking questions, administering drugs, examining wounds with an almost giddy fascination.  We obtained enough details from Randy for our report and left, leaving a small knot of folks, hospital counselors, the grievance pastor, social service officials and other assorted “lookie loos” clustered around Randy’s gurney.  Word spreads quickly through the halls of a small local hospital.

Next day, another ranger and I took two horses and a mule into Lincoln Lake to examine the campsite and pack out his stuff.  Arriving, the scene unfolded with perfect clarity.  True to his story, a bear had collapsed his tent in the early morning hours and had chased him up a tree, seizing his legs and pulling him down.  He fell through the branches and onto the side of his face, breaking his nose, fracturing an orbital socket and a cheek bone.  Despite the gashes and puncture wounds on his feet and lower legs where the bear had bitten him, he managed to thrust his bare feet into his boots, grab a large D cell flashlight and fled down the trail.  He hiked all night.  At little creeks he filled the lens cavity of his flashlight with water as if it were a live-giving cup to quench the thirst brought on by blood loss.

We gathered up Randy’s gear.  From the looks of things, the bear had stayed around quite a while and worked the camp over, consuming any food items and scattering gear everywhere.  We found his sleeping bag, torn and tattered, in a nearby alder patch, leaking down feathers.  Back near the outlet creek at the foot of the lake, we saw telltale black bear tracks in the mud.  And at the campsite it was clear that the bear had climbed up the tree after Randy, leaving obvious claw marks all around the trunk of the large spruce tree.  Freshly broken branches littered the base of the tree.

“Wow.  Look at this”, Dave said as he handed the binoculars to me that he had been using to follow the claw marks high up into the tree.  “Bear went all the way up there!  D’ya see that?”  He pointed twenty-five feet up the tree.

In the day-to-day events of working in a national park it is easy to forget that raw nature can be very unforgiving.  Just two summers after Randy’s incident, I witnessed similar wounds on a visitor who self-reported at the West Entrance, his naked back looking like it had been riddled with buckshot.  Puncture wounds and larger gashes in tissue peppered his shoulders and he sat there, on a stool, shivering with shock.  After he went to the hospital, we inventoried his backpack and found a diary that contained this entry: “Go to visitor center.  Find where most bears are.”

Several seasons after Randy’s incident, I was sitting outside one of the Park’s backcountry patrol cabins, drinking scotch with an old sage ranger that we all revered.  I told him about Randy’s encounter with the black bear that summer.  After a moment of quiet reflection, he looked off to the distant ridgeline as if picturing the moment.  Then, after pouring another scotch, he said, “Well, you know, wilderness ain’t wilderness ‘less there’s something out there as kin gitcha!”

~Michael Ober

The Noble Whitebark

Here on the northern rim of Greater Yellowstone, great ranges of mountains rise into the cobalt sky like dragons teeth. Climb into the high country of the Montana Rockies and you enter the realm of the Whitebark Pine (Pinus albicans). Long-lived, slow-growing, sturdy and hardy, these iconic trees are an integral part of Greater Yellowstone’s mountain ecosystem.

Whitebarks grow only at high elevations in western North America. These five-needle pines are often found in association with dark, pointy Subalpine fir (Abies lasiocarpa) and are closely related to Limber pine (Pinus flexilis).

Whitebarks grow fat and short, forming bushy growth that is often made up of several trunks. Stout trees like these tend to hold snow in drifts, helping conserve snowpack and lengthen the time it takes to melt off, thus preserving high-country snows into summer.

The only way to reliably tell Whitebarks from Limbers is by their cones. Limbers have large, woody cones, the largest of any tree in Greater Yellowstone, while Whitebarks produce small, sticky purple cones which, when ripe, are loaded with edible pine nuts.

Whitebark pine nuts are the most important food source for grizzly bears in Greater Yellowstone. This is a unique association between bears and trees, with help from squirrels and Clark's Nutcrackers that collect and store the seeds and cones. Bears depend in a big way on these rich, fatty pine nuts to make it through hibernation. In the late summer and early fall, bears swarm the Whitebark groves, knocking cones out of trees and picking out the nuts or raiding the caches of cones and nuts made by birds and squirrels.

When you enter a Whitebark pine forest you can easily see the results of climate change. The needles on the Whitebark trees are a rusty red, if indeed they have any needles left at all. Look across a high elevation forest from a peak in the Absaroka or Gallatin range, and you see red everywhere. According to retired USGS biologist David Mattson, in 10 to 15 years the Whitebark Pine will be functionally extinct in Greater Yellowstone.

Since the 1980s, Whitebarks (and Limbers) have been dying across the Yellowstone Ecosystem from a combination of an invasive pathogen called white pine blister rust, an epidemic of pine bark beetles, and extreme weather events. The blister rust, while not a symptom of climate change, did result from human meddling (it probably got to North America on a shipment of plants from Asia). The bark beetles, however, have invaded the Whitebark forest solely due to warming temperatures. These native insects normally cannot survive the cold winters at high elevations in the Rockies.

Climate change is happening faster at higher elevations (and higher latitudes), thus allowing the beetles to attack Whitebarks that have little defense against them. The one-two punch of beetles and blister rust is delivering the death blow to these spectacular trees.

Few scientists predicted the swiftness of the demise of the Whitebarks. Attempting to predict the rate and the effects of climate change and related events is like trying to predict which way the cars on a crashing train will roll. Forest ecosystems and weather systems are more complex than we can know, and the added chaos of climate change is leading to unpredictable consequences.

In the 1990s my wife and I hiked the Indian Ridge trail into the Spanish Peaks Wilderness of Montana. We walked through what may have been the most beautiful Whitebark Pine forest we had ever seen, and called it the "Enchanted Forest." When I backpacked that trail in 2012, the Whitebark forest was unrecognizable. All the trees were dead and most had blown over, forcing trail crews to recut the trail through all the thick dead trunks. Elsewhere on Indian Ridge, another patch of healthy Whitebarks had been destroyed by a recent avalanche.

Extreme weather events like windstorms, avalanches and severe wildfires are also taking out Whitebarks, which grow so slowly that, even were they to grow back, it could take a century to replace a ruined forest. I did, amazingly, find some healthy patches of Whitebark high on Indian Ridge, loaded with sticky purple cones and that, of course, is where I found fresh bear tracks on the trail.

Forest destruction like that I saw on Indian Ridge is shocking and produces a visceral reaction in me. It's like witnessing the loss of something you never knew how much you loved until it was gone. It's also an in-your-face display of the power of human-induced climate change, a process that is ramping up as we draw well past the 400 ppm mark of CO2 in Earth's atmosphere.

Trees, bears, squirrels, birds, humans...which will be the next to face the abyss of extinction? Or can we, the only species with power to decide, amend our wasteful ways for the sake of all?

~Phil Knight

 UFO Saga

                Live long enough in Montana and you’ll likely end up with some kind of extraterrestrial story or UFO saga.  Events like mutilated cattle and crop cutting designs come to mind.  So it was that one sultry July night south of Havre, circa 1962, something happened.

                My brother and I had just walked home from the Orpheum movie theater, a double feature, to our home on the south edge of town.  It was late and darkness was crowding out daylight.  Our parents were at a dinner party with plans of coming home much later.  Stepping out on the back patio to feed the dog, we saw them:  four bright objects low over the southern horizon, slowly tracking back and forth across the dark sky.  We peered and strained and looked because, well, this was not normal.  And we knew it.  The bright objects were equidistant apart and, at the end of a tracking pattern they scattered and aligned once again into a perfect line of flying “things”, which is the best word we could come up with.  Now, as young boys we had built enough model airplanes to know these were not conventional aircraft.  We scurried inside and did what young problem-solving boys would do.  We grabbed dad’s scope-sighted hunting rifles, his .270 and .308, in an attempt to get a better look.  Even up close, we could detect no navigational lights and, more puzzling, no sound.

                During the early 1960’s there had been a flurry of news accounts of flying saucer landings, little green men, curious objects in the sky.  This, coupled with the imagination of two young boys, eleven and eight, and no adults around to supply answers, sent us into dread.  Was this it?  Had they landed?  We looked at each other with a shared sense of puzzlement and, then, fear.

                As if on que, two VOO DOO Air Force fighter jets, F101’s, screamed over the edge of town, so low we could see the orange-hot exhaust from the tail cones.  We knew the design and shape and silhouette.   Of course!  Glasgow, less than a hundred miles to the east, had a fighter interceptor squadron!  Hooray!  Calvary to the rescue.  As the paired jets drew nearer, the objects scattered and, then, zoomed at hypersonic speeds up into the dark sky.  And were gone.

                Our parents arrived later to find us huddled under the covers of the bed, drenched in as much sweat as two young boys could generate, still filled with dread.  We told them.  And they believed us.   We had seen something.  A military training exercise?  An illusion?  Meteorological phenomena? Extraterrestrials probing the vast landscape? Montana’s skies are so big they can contain endless answers.  But we had seen something…

~Michael Ober