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.

Study Your Back Trail

When I hike I don’t often leave the hiking trail because I don’t want to be lost.  But sometimes the hiking trail leaves me.  More than once the trail has split into a tangle of numerous little trails while I am hiking along.  Figuring out which offshoot to follow can be nerve wracking.   Then there is the problem of meadows.  It is not unusual for a trail to disappear in a meadow.   Fortunately, other hikers or the forest service personnel frequently make cairns to follow through a meadow.  I can’t depend on others making cairns for me to follow, though.

I hate having a well defined trail disappear into nothing.  It gives me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.  When it happens, I have two choices:  go back or go on, using my GPS and maps.  If I decide to go on, I remember the advice given by my grandfather, Dunc Robertson. 

Grandpa had a lot of experience with bushwhacking. He was born in Montana in 1872.  Many times, he made his way to a destination without a trail. In his day, there weren't that many well established trails.  According to him, people got lost because they failed to turn around and look at what was behind them as they hiked along.  In other words, seeing what the trail looks like if the hiker was hiking the opposite direction.  If a hiker is planning on leaving the same way he came, the hiker needs to know what the trail will look like on the way out.

It’s amazing how different the terrain appears when you are facing the opposite direction.  If I have to bushwhack, I make it a point to study my back trail.