Big rivers are the home to many real and mythical creatures. Water is, after all, the source of all life. River riparian areas are veritable highways for wildlife of all kinds, and rivers spark the mind's imagination to conjure all manner of mythical beings.

Rivers undergo dramatic changes with the seasons. Spring brings flood, with water overflowing banks and seeking new levels, nourishing the ground with fresh soil for lush grasses and sustaining the towering cottonwood trees, and moving downfall to strand on gravel beaches and banks and create blockages which weave new channels. Summer’s lazy, placid waters calmly flow within main stems, pooling along banks to provide fish with deep, cool refuges, and feeding water to sloughs from underground. Autumn’s cold waters come alive with birds as they migrate along their corridors to their winter grounds. The most dramatic river changes come with winter’s temperatures rising above and falling below the magical freezing point, forming ice and sending clouds of fog into the air, only to freeze and form hoarfrost.  

Hoarfrost is, of course, the product of two winter river rascals: Jack Frost and his sidekick, the Frost Fairy. These creatures are more than mythical. While they themselves may be invisible, their presence and their handy work can be both seen and felt. Every winter these two spirited phantoms venture forth under the cover of night to turn an ordinary, but beautiful, world into an extraordinary, otherworldly and ephemeral vision of crystal. Last January, Jack seemed to be on a delusional high as he and his sidekick outdid themselves with magic.

Jack stayed at the river to play and do the heavy lifting, supplying the Frost Fairy with her pallet of crystals for her trips to the forest to adorn the trees. He magically levitated the warmer water molecules to hang effortlessly in the cold air, forming a thick mantle of fog to conceal his efforts and diffuse the warmth of the sun, thus preventing it from spoiling their fun. His organic brew infused the area with a musty, earthy, and heavy odor. Like a child in summer gleefully and casually skipping stones across the river's surface, Jack delighted in forming delicate and airy frost lily pads that he then randomly cast in the thick, yet still flowing, water.
 

The Frost Fairy did all of the delicate work. First she flitted among the cottonwood trees along the river's shore, painting their naked limbs and spindly twigs a sparkly white to starkly contrast with their dark bark. The dull grey sky seemed only to accentuate her talents. It was a scene of contradictions, with the feathery frosted trees reaching and reaching into a fog-laden and burdensome sky that was totally lacking in texture.
 

Moving up to an area we call the bench (because it is flat and overlooks the riparian forest), she proceeded to dress the ornamental trees, the buildings, and the fences, by painstakingly applying individual ice crystals to each and every needle of the pine trees, to the tiniest of the lilac twigs, coating every strand of wire along the fences, and turning ordinary ranch objects like gates and birdhouses into true works of art. She was meticulous and thorough in her duties, making sure that each crystal was unique, and delicately balancing crystal upon crystal to create cotton candy-like swirls on every tree branch. What an artist is she!

She clearly favored one lovely ponderosa pine situated on the bench offering a loverly view of the river corridor, near our wooden arbor with porch swing, picnic tables, and fire pits. She recognized it as a gathering place where she could parade her skills and show off her aesthetic sensibilities to all who might pass by. Every needle, every branch, every nook and corner of the tree was coated with layer after layer after layer of luminous sheets of tiny crystals.
 

It was her masterpiece. And, indeed, all who passed by took notice, stopping for a detailed inspection of her fine work, looking up and down to appreciate it from all angles.  She entrapped me in her spell-binding artistry as I stood for long moments breathing in the cold and viscous air that she and Jack had used to work their wonders. As with all things of great beauty, especially things that embrace all of the senses, mere photos do not do justice.

 

SuzAnne Miller is the owner of Dunrovin Ranch. A fourth-generation Montanan, SuzAnne grew up roaming the mountains and fishing the streams of western Montana. Her love of nature, animals, science, and education prompted her to create the world’s first cyber ranch where live web cameras bring Dunrovin’s wildlife and ranch life to internet users across the globe.

Visit SuzAnne live at www.DaysAtDunrovin.com!

Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of snowmobiling in some of the most beautiful parts of Montana. Places like Seeley Lake and West Yellowstone are transformed into true winter wonderlands by the snowfall they receive. Even if you’ve visited those places in summer, they are made wholly new by the frosty white blankets Mother Nature lays down each winter. The beauty of it all leaves you rubbing your eyes because you can’t believe it’s real and right in front of you. I’ve also been up to my armpits in some of the most epic powder you can imagine in places like Cooke City. With over 4,000 miles of riding trails (many of which are groomed), Montana truly is one of the best destinations anywhere for sledding. 


But if you asked me where my favorite place to go riding is, I will always say the same thing—Lincoln, MT. 
Why Lincoln you ask? Well, besides the fact that the area—bordered by the magnificent Bob Marshall and Scapegoat Wilderness—is stunningly gorgeous, it also delivers the best overall riding experience of anywhere I’ve been. The reason behind that is simple. The Ponderosa Snow Warriors Club.


The Ponderosa Snow Warriors (PSW) is Lincoln’s local snowmobile club. Not only does this club offer a snow conditions hot line and trail maps but they also work tirelessly to keep over 250 miles of riding trails in the area groomed. The PSW hosts a number of events throughout the season including fun runs, poker rides, pancake breakfasts and avalanche preparedness classes. But my favorite part of the organization is the warming hut located off of Sucker Creek Road (which is open to everyone). 


A few weeks ago, my husband and I ventured over Flesher Pass with our sleds in tow for a day of riding in Lincoln. The day was the kind that all snowmobilers dream of. There wasn’t a cloud overhead and the sun shone brightly across the azure blue sky. With temperatures hovering around 15-20 degrees and only the gentlest of breezes blowing, it was the kind of day you spend smiling from start to finish.


After unloading the sleds and suiting up we took off up Copper Creek Rd…..eventually turning onto Sucker Creek Road. Not far up Sucker Creek we dropped down off the road onto a trail that led us to an open meadow area completely untouched by tracks. It was heavenly. We spent an hour or so carving serpentine lines into the snow. Our rumbling stomachs were the only thing that finally halted us.


Having neglected to pack any lunch that day, we knew that our only salvation would be found in some snacks from the Snow Warriors clubhouse. So off we went flying down Sucker Creek Road towards the clubhouse.  


Upon opening the clubhouse door you are hugged by the warm air wafting from the wood stove in the center of the room. Just inside the door, there’s a clip board on the counter with a sign-in sheet for riders. As we scrawled down our names, we were greeted by one of the Snow Warriors members who was operating the clubhouse for the day. His name was Forrest. And he looked absolutely ecstatic at seeing some new faces. Other than his wife and a couple of kids there was no one else in the clubhouse at the time.


True to form, there were complimentary cookies as well as hot chocolate and coffee out for us to warm up with. We grabbed a cup and a handful of cookies and took a seat at one of the many picnic tables lining the room. 


“You guys want a hot dog or something hot to eat?” Forrest asked.

“Absolutely.” I said. I’m starving!”

“Sure, I’ll take one as well,” my husband chimed in.

Forrest’s eyes lit up at hearing that news.

“Those will be my first two hot dogs of the day,” he said. 

Apparently the warm weather was keeping everyone busy outside. But I was plenty content to take a break and chow down on a hot dog, bag of Doritos and a can of Pepsi. It was a simple lunch but it tasted fabulous. And besides, we’d just made Forrest’s day a total success with our small order of two hot dogs. 


We chatted with Forrest for quite a while…about everything from the snow conditions across the state to the skijoring completion happening in Lincoln in a few weeks. Since we admitted to not being Snow Warriors members yet, Forrest also handed us a membership form to fill out later if we wanted.


After glancing at the clock to see that it was pushing 4 pm, we finally decided it was time to make our way back to the trailer and call it a day. We thanked Forrest for the meal and hospitality, slipped our helmets on and headed back outside.


As we sped back along Sucker Creek Road towards the parking lot where our trailer was parked, I couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for the wonderful day we’d shared in Lincoln. The weather was perfect, the snow was deep and glistened like a billion grains of sugar, and the groomed trails quickly led us to some delightful play areas. I was especially grateful, however, to the Ponderosa Snow Warriors and their commitment to keeping the trails smooth and marked and offering a warm oasis for us to make a pit-stop and refuel on snacks.


Whether you’re a veteran rider or just looking for somewhere to enjoy a snowmobile outing with the family, Lincoln offers something for everyone. If nothing else, you can stay and chat in the Snow Warrior’s clubhouse—playing cards and sipping coffee while you keep the hosts company.  
 

 Lacey Middlestead is a Montana native and freelance writer currently living in Helena, Mont. She loves meeting new people and helping share their stories. When she’s not busy writing articles for newspapers like the Independent Record and Helena Vigilante, she can usually be found indulging in her second greatest passion–playing in the Montana wilderness. She loves skiing and snowmobiling in the winter and four wheeling, hiking, boating, and riding dirt bikes in the summer.

Cover Photo by Etchart Creative

I used to park our family car right up close to the house, winter or summer. When it snowed, we'd shovel our way to the gate, often taking 45 minutes at it. Then a couple years ago, it occurred to me that if I parked next to the gate, shoveling took 10 to 15 minutes. Yeah, the driveway isn't so pretty and clear but it works.
 

It took almost 40 years for this Aha. Blame it on my growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area.
 

Speaking of the driveway, it used to be narrow and sat slightly higher than the lawn it borders. So during inevitable winter thaw/freeze cycles, we would sometimes be holding on to the car door to keep from sliding downhill. Totally ineffective. We fell a lot. Five years ago, determined to solve this problem, I bought a couple big rubber mats. They helped immensely. Even better? When I realized the driveway could be made wider. It was a minimal investment (it's gravel) and -- no more falling. Not once. 
 

I started watching my across-the-street neighbor and realized I could sweep light snow. Much easier than shoveling. If I do that a few times during the day when it’s snowing, it keeps everything SO much simpler to manage. Probably useless in the type of storm that drops five feet of snow in 24 hours like my sister experienced earlier this year in California’s Sierra Nevada, but quite effective with a Bozeman light and powdery 3 inches.
 

We all put up with stuff because we think there's no remedy, or, we just stop thinking. That's why I love making put-up-with lists. When you list stuff, large and small, you just start questioning and wondering, solving or accepting. As you shift smaller put-up-withs, larger ones don't carry as much weight. Well, some larger ones. Some things ARE just weighty. We're ALL carrying plenty of those right now. They drain energy, taking a toll on health, mentally and physically. Why add to the load?
 

Do you have to do anything about the things on your list? Not really. It’s not a to-do list. Just becoming aware of, and articulating, these bring them to the forefront of your mind, and spirit.
 

Create a theme for a list: what are 25 put-up-withs around finances? Around the amount of clothes in your closet? A friend had two hampers full of matched pairs of socks. She went to work on those then found herself in her closet, sorting out things she didn’t wear. Some of those still had price tags on them. She gifted them to friends, delighted by their delight. I love to donate to a thrift-store that supports the work of an important local non-profit.
 

I’ve been at this long enough I don’t create a list but keep a running tally in my mind. Generally, circumstance prioritize what rises to the surface, or I find I’m just ready to address something, and then I dig in and even if it takes a few months for a solution to pop, I stay with it. 
 

My most recent winter-relief innovation? I don’t like to scrape ice off the car windshield in the morning. Forty-years of Montana freezes and I still pretend it won’t be there. For decades, I threw a blanket over the windshield. A couple years ago I found a nice windshield cover. But it’s too complicated to put on and doesn’t fully cover the windshield. I stopped using it. This winter I bought a nice sized tarp. It covers the windshield and then some. I tuck it in under the top of each passenger door so it doesn’t blow off. It’s amazing. Almost as good as a carport. Or that’s what a friend said. I’ve never had a car port so I wouldn’t know.
 

Honestly, I still have a problem of getting myself to actually cover the car with the tarp at night. Because really, my most consistent challenge, winter, spring, summer and fall? Me. 

Jenna Caplette migrated from California to Montana in the early 1970s, first living on the Crow Indian reservation. A Healing Arts Practitioner, she owns Bozeman BodyTalk & Integrative Healthcare. For relaxation, she reads novels and walks the trails around Bozeman with her four legged companion. Oh, and sometimes she manages to sit down and write.

Rewind over the last 15 years... every time the "W" word is mentioned...

"W" word?  Wolf- Gasp! Scream! Shrieks of anger! Heavy sighs!   Any time this hot word is mentioned or overheard, an hour long outdoorsman rant about Montana elk populations ensues, followed by my eye rolling and sighing.  Followed by continued ranting and more persuasive techniques such as foot stomping, fist chest beating, and declarations of the seriousness of our elk herd depredation and wolf problems. If I continue to not join in the ranting he will resort to trusty old YouTube videos of wolves tearing up baby elk.  Doesn't he know I am just using the age old trick in a life or death situation?  You know, where you play dead so the wild animal doesn't eat you?  So I quietly sit and nod at the angry camo man until my eyes cross and my ears bleed. If you nod yes enough times he will eventually calm himself. 

Trust me; this is worse than Voldemort-"He Who Shall Not Be Named".  This goes in the book of never, ever; ever bring up politics, religion, and wolvvvvvvvessssss (this is said in a whisper) in polite conversation.  For that matter, do not bring it up in anyyyyy conversation polite or not because I can guarantee the outdoorsmen, ranchers, and just about anyone around here will get just plain ugly at the mention of the "W" word.
 

Back to the present...
 

I'm always trying to get the outdoorsman to check out of a work a little early to take me to some chick flick, go to Costco with me, get a pedicure, or some other thing that he deems "un-manly." He never can seem to get his schedule figured out where he is able to come with me. Strange, right?  I figure I do a lotttttt of things that are not really in my comfort zone so
He should have to get a pedicure at least once a year to get those caveman feet under control. Anyways! 
 

Lately there has been a decent sized herd of elk hanging around our house.  Which is awesome but we also have had to have the outdoorsman towed out of the ditch twice due to reckless binocular driving. (See below) They really should have a ticket for this sort of thing, right?  Usually we just have bears and mountain lions hanging around but....This week on Tuesday, I get a frantic phone call from the outdoorsman.  Apparently his buddy just heard on the news and IMMEDIATELY called to let him know that there is a pack of wolves running around, gasp, IN the outdoorsman's neighborhood.  Holy bag of antlers! What do we dooooooooo now??? The outdoorsman is literally shrieking into the phone about how he just can't believe that there are wolvessssssss hanging out on HIS turf. This is simply unacceptable. I repeat, in case you didn't quite get it, UNacceptable!   He informs me that he MUST take care of this.  Was there ever any question? My ears hurt from the rapid fire one-sided politician's speech I just endured. Even I know the outdoorsman cannot resist this juicy temptation.  I hang up the phone... an evening alone…can anyone say sushi and pedicure evening?  Thank you wolves!

I get home and the outdoorsman is waiting, ready to pounce, as soon as I walk in the door. No, he didn't notice my cute new toe polish and think I looked good; he was ready to tell me about the enemy in the back yard.  Of course! He tells me he went scouting after work and that he found the wolves.   He tells me he has never been so exhilarated and freaked out at the same time.  And that the hair on the back of his neck stood up when the pack of 8 were spotted one drainage down from our house. He is pacing, plotting and severely agitated.  The outdoorsman is in heaven.  I don’t think that he slept a wink that night.  He was as giddy as a school girl with new shoes

Miraculously he is off of work two whole hours early the next day.  How did that ever happen?  He says that strangely enough his last 2 appointments of the day cancelled.  I do not believe that for a second!  On my way home I encounter him and his buddy en route to their “spot”.  Camo men unite!! They are blasting music, frothing at the mouth, and kind of looking like a pack of wolves themselves.  The outdoorsman revs his truck up and launches the outdoorsman mobile up on a snow bank.  This must make him feel tough or something?   The camo men unload and they are ready to roll.  Their camo bandanas are tied to their heads, their rifles are slung over their shoulders, and they are off as they imagine they are camo super heroes off to avenge fallen elk.   I roll my eyes and continue home.The outdoorsman arrives home a few hours later, empty handed, but happy as a pig in poop. Weirdo!

A few days later, on our way out of town for the weekend, I notice the back seat has his pack, a gilly suit, a predator call,and his rifle from dream-guides. I laugh and ask what that's all about.  The outdoorsman smirks in some secret pleasure, "You just never know babe, you just never know."     Dear God, does this mean at any given moment the outdoorsmen will suspect a wolf in the general vicinity, turn on the howling box, suit up in some fringy camo suit get-up, slap two black paint lines across his cheeks and started army crawling across the parking lot of the restaurant we are in? Yes, that's exactly what that means!  I will not claim him but will order dessert, order another glass of wine, and wait.  He will come back eventually, he always does when he gets hungry. So if you hear of a wild man howling like a wolf running through the streets on the prowl, don't be concerned, it is just an excited outdoorsman.  Now that the wolves are in town, anything could happen.

Binocular driving: The action of attempting to drive while looking through binoculars at critters, steering with your knee, animal calling and ignoring passenger screams.

Kristen Berube lives a crazy, laugh-filled life with her outdoorsman husband Remi and their three camo-clad children in Missoula, Montana. A graduate of Montana State University and the Northern Alberta Institute of Technology, she loves being a mom and enjoys hiking, fishing, and camping. “Confessions of a Camo Queen: Living with an Outdoorsman” is her first book. 

It is available for purchase at:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/1560376287/ref=tsm_1_fb_lk

In Montana, where I live, we have more hoofed ungulates than we have people. Deer, pronghorn and elk roam freely among the 94 million acres that make up the Treasure State.  Frequently we see them in our back yards, or on hikes, where we have run into other free-ranging critters like bear and the very furtive mountain lion.  With one million people in the fourth largest state by ground area, Montana has room to roam and room to exhale.

We moved here from Chicago in 1998, and while I do love my old hometown for a visit (can't beat the culture and restaurants!), I am always glad to return to our recently expanded airport in Bozeman (8 gates!) and walk to my car, just steps away. The two cities are a study in contrasts in many ways, but the driving force for our relocation was most definitely the press of humanity.

Life is simply easier when there is ample space for work and everyday tasks; and the big plus of millions of acres of prairie, forest and mountains free for hiking, viewing and driving make this state a most special exception among the lower 48.  Most noticeable for me is the lack of any serious traffic.  When we travel from point A to point B, we measure it in a time which is 100% reliable...one could never say that about most cities and suburbs across the country.

Montana is likely to grow, and our hometown Bozeman is in the midst of a major building boom right now.  It's amazing how quickly the landscape around town is changing since our move here.  I suspect it is only the winter weather, which often lingers until June,  that keeps a massive relocation swarm at bay. 

In my lifetime I will probably notice manageable in-migration, though I do wonder if constant, relentless population growth will, in the end, win out; and Montana will look--and feel-- like anywhere else.

Please remember. It's cold and snowy here. No rush to move.

Bill Muhlenfeld is owner and publisher of Distinctly Montana magazine and other publications. He lives in Bozeman with his partner, Anthea, and always finds time to enjoy the great outdoors, when he is not writing about it....