Seeley Clearwater River Canoe Trail

A fun summer water activity is to paddle the Seeley Lake/ Clearwater River Canoe trail.  From Helena take Highway 12 West until you arrive at Avon.  Turn right at Avon, taking Highway 141 past Helmville. Keep on 141 to the next junction, Highway 200.  Turn left as if you were going to Ovando. Keep going to Clearwater Junction, Highway 83.  Continue on 83 past Salmon Lake and through the town of Seeley Lake.  Keep driving past the ranger station, looking for a sign to the canoe trail.  The sign is on your right, the turn is to the left.

The first part of the trail has some tight turns.   As you approach the lake, the river widens and the turns are more gradual.  During the spring, there is more flow, but later in the summer you can see western painted turtles sunning themselves on the logs and rocks. There were also ducks and other water birds.

The trail empties into the north end of Seeley Lake where there are lillypads and sometimes loons. You paddle across the lake to the take-out point. Since it was a little windy when I went, I was glad the wind was at my back.  A direct paddle across the lake would be a difficult one, across deeper water.  Cross winds and head winds are never good with a canoe.

After taking out your canoe, you hike a trail for a mile back to the point where you launched and where your car is parked.  There is a wildlife viewing area along the trail, so you can take your binoculars if you wish to watch wildlife for a while.  This trail is mosquito ridden in the spring and early June, so mosquito repellent may be in order at that time of year.  When you pick up your car, drive to the ranger station.  That is where the canoe take-out point is.

I really enjoyed this float, but was glad we launched early.  It was very busy around noon.

My Favorite Things

Preston

The road to Louise Lake

 

 

New trails to hike

 

 

 

Indian Paintbrush

 

Mountain Heather

 

Pygmy Bitteroots

A Mediocre Day at Work is Better that a Rotten Day Fishing

I recently saw a bumper sticker:  the worst day fishing is better than the best day at work.  Obviously that person has never been fishing with me.  I've had some BAD days fishing.  I have had WAY better days at work.

Yesterday Preston and I four-wheeled into a nearby mountain lake.  No. I'm not telling anyone where our fishing spot is.   After spending twenty minutes attaching tippet and fly to my fly rod I was ready to go.  Then I spent twenty minutes casting my fly and untangling it from trees, bushes, and grass. I walked to what I hoped was a good fishing spot where my reel fell off my rod and into the water.  My wet reel wouldn't reel anything in or out without an appreciable amount of persuasion. When I finally lost the fly in some grass and realized my tippet was too brittle (probably it is too old) to fish with, I switched to my other rod.

After taking a fly fishing class from a premier fly fisherman, I can never switch to using a lure without feeling like an uncultured barbarian of the first order.  The thing is, lure fishing is soooo much easier.  For most people.  On my first cast, my lure became lodged under something in the lake.  I spent ten or fifteen minutes walking this way and that, climbing over logs and boulders, trying to free it - which I finally did.  I fished without success for a while and decided to change my lure.  To change the lure, I had to hike a half a mile around the lake to the tackle box, change the lure, and then hoof it back to my "good spot."

At the good spot I cast my line a few times while fish jumped in the center of the lake.  Determined to get my lure where the fish were, I gave a forceful cast.  The top of my rod flew off the pole and into the middle of the lake and sank.  Naturally, my lure tangled in something too and could not be reeled in.  After several minutes, I kissed the lure goodbye and hauled in the line. Thus ended my fishing for the day.

Preston caught a good sized cutthroat trout, which he released.  We called it a day.  Tomorrow, I am buying a new rod, but I question the advisability of the purchase.  In my case, it's like buying aggravation.  The problem is, I can't stand being beaten. I hope this persistence will not end up driving me out of my mind.

Yes, I LOVE to Hike

Quite often when I attend a gathering of women, people are asked to introduce themselves.  Several women will usually say, "...and I love to hike."  Well, maybe some of them do.  More often, when my hiking partner and I extend an invitation to hike with us we get some creative excuses:

• I never hike below 40 degrees.  (This wipes out half the year.)
• I must stay home and redecorate my bulletin board.  (Not a dedicated hiker here.)
• I was going to go, but a friend called and wanted me to go shopping instead.  (This person usually calls a half hour before we are going to leave when we delayed our departure time just so she could come.)
• I was going to come, and then realized I hadn't visited my aunt for a while.  Could we go at noon instead of 8:00 a.m. so I can visit her first?  (No.)
• I don't have the right gear. (How have you been hiking enough to know you love it without boots, backpack, water bottle etc.?)

Since we live in an area with scads of hiking trails, it seems to be fashionable to "like" hiking.  I've learned that with most women it's all talk.

The View From Hedges Mountain

Preston and I have different views on Four-wheeling.  For him, four-wheeling is an activity itself.  Tooling around the mountains all day long on a four-wheeler is his idea of fun.  In my view, the purpose of a four-wheeler is to get me over a rough road to a great hiking trail.

After making the trip to the top of Hedges Mountain, I have modified my opinion.  Another purpose of a four-wheeler is to transport me to a spectacular view.  On top of Hedges Mountain, 7103 feet, we could see the Flint Range, Red Mountain near Lincoln, Red Mountain near Helena, and the Tobacco Roots.

Purple Fringe

Max and Gail

Steve and Preston

The Hike to Elk Lake

Elk Lake

Friday Kristy and I explored a part of the East Rosebud Trail in the Beartooth Mountains.  We traveled west from Billings on I-90. We exited the interstate highway at Columbus and caught state highway 78 through Absorakee and Roscoe.  At Roscoe we took the East Rosebud Road into East Rosebud Lake where the trail begins.

The drive to the trail had breath-taking views.  The views from the trail itself were incredible.  Although, the first mile of the hike was along East Rosebud Lake almost through the backyard of cabins bordering the lake.  Still, looking south into the rugged, rock mountains was worth every minute of hiking by cabins.

Maybe because it is June, the amount of water in East Rosebud Creek looked more like a river.  The drop of the creek must be fairly steep because it roared with white water for most of the trail.  There really aren't adequate words to describe the rugged beauty of the entire hike.

Elk Lake is just the first destination on this trail which continues for miles and mile through numerous lakes.

We started our hike around 9:00 am and didn't see any hikers until we were 1/2 down the trail returning from Elk Lake.  After that, we saw many, many hikers.

In and out, the trip was 6 miles and worth the two hour drive from Billings to the trailhead.

Kristy

Columbine along the trail

Looking down onto the waterfall

Wilderness sign.  Take your horse, but not your bike.  Bikes must leave too much scat, graze,
and make many more impacts than horses

How the Beartooths got their name

1996 burn leaves view of the rocks.

The road in.

Taking the Dog Along

I usually take my dog, Max, when I go hiking. Other hikers I meet on the trail often admire my chocolate lab.  They express the conviction that having Max must be a great comfort and protection for me as I hike. Anyone who thinks that has never hiked much with their hound.

The straight truth is that I take the dog because I love him and he loves to come hiking.  I hope to remain safe in spite of him, not because of him.  More than once, I have heard an ominous cracking and scuffling in the forest followed by my dog tearing through the woods and back to the trail with a speed that would impress Mario Andretti.  At these times, I pray that he is not being pursued by an irate bear or a miffed moose.  If he is being pursued, both of us could be toast.  While this realization is energizing, it is not comforting.

I remember clearly the day that Gail and I hiked into a moose foraging south of town.  The dog, feigning deafness to my repeated pleadings, "Here, Max!"  decided to chase the young bull moose.  The moose initially reacted by trotting off, but then thought the matter over.  On consideration, the moose adopted the philosophy of Dirty Harry.  He circled back to the spot in the trail where the dog had first barked at his heels, and assumed a decidedly, "Try it again, buddy, and make my day," type of attitude.

That day I learned my dog is smarter than a lot of people I know. He can read a situation fairly well. Max came to my call and submitted peacefully to being leashed. Because we dislike hospital stays and have no funeral insurance, Gail and I changed our hiking route and hiked back home another way.

Another time Gail and I hiked into an elk at the top of the Bilk Mountain trail.  Before we even knew the elk was there, Gail's Airedale, Sarah, chased it.  Sarah returned to us, limping badly.  And she limped for the next week.  Game animals first react by running.  Unlike me, they can think and run at the same time.  Upon reflection, a game animal realizes that he can take out a dog with the efficiency of a patriot missile. And the game animal is entirely correct.

My hiking adventures have taught me that taking the dog can be fun for the dog. I like making both me and the dog happy as we hike. The more I take the dog along, the more he learns to obey: come when called, leaves things when commanded. The dog can alert me to dangers in the area.  But the dog can be a danger to me and to himself.  I bear that in mind when hiking.