1997 Book 2 Alaska 1

JUST AROUND THE BEND
Episode II

7 THE MUSEUM
CODY, WYOMING

We’ve heard a lot about Cody, Wyoming. It’s a
real cowboy town. Big enough to keep everyone
happy, with a population of 8,000, plus tourists.
It’s just down the road, through Yellowstone
onto the plains about 80 miles from Madison
Camp. We need a break from this rainy weather
and wild animals. So here we come Cody.
We knew the road through Yellowstone, past the
Middle Basin, Old Faithful, and the two
continental divides. From there we circled
around Yellowstone Lake.

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It’s a large lake, at this altitude, with a couple of
marinas. The wonder of it is how shallow the
crust is beneath it. They say limestone towers
have grown up around the heat vents under the
surface. We can see several places where the
water, which is normally cold, has steam rising
from the surface.
Beyond the lake we ran into snow along the road,
and on the mountainsides. We hadn’t gone into
northern Yellowstone, because the roads and
campgrounds were still closed. So this was the
first time we’d seen snow since arriving through
the Tetons. You can see here that the sun has
melted the northern banks.

The snow was no problem, we were warm, and
toasty, in the Van, and the road was clear. So it
was really pretty as we zipped along. It wasn’t

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long before we started down a canyon, and
Arlene was on the outside, looking down.

There’s something about it that just doesn’t
sit well with her. Looking down, especially from

the outside edge of the road. It’s looking into the
abyss. It’s the end, her dreams are over and
there’s only nightmares left to life. Even having a
one ton Buffalo 5 inches from your window
doesn’t faze her like a bottomless cliff.
The humming and chatting stops, her breath gets
shallow, she turns away from the window. Not a
word is spoken, not, ‘I don’t like this’ not ‘Oh My
God it’s so steep! Not even ‘ It’s so far down!
It’s to the center of the earth!’ Nothing, just
quiet, white knuckles, and pale cheeks.
This is not an appropriate time to mention some
other peculiarities, like her attitude towards
anything that moves. I’ve noticed that she
doesn’t like big things like, bears, buffalo, and
deer. They are okay, as long as they’re not to
close. But there’s the little things also, the ants,
spiders, geckos, or squirrels and cute little
chipmunks, which everyone adores. If they
move she not to interested in being around them.

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But this isn’t the time for that; it’s time to take
some serious steps. To come to her rescue. I
know it sounds harsh, but we’re talking survival
at this point. I first slow down….oops, not a
good move; she can focus even better on her
demise, and the brink. ‘Arlene!!! Breath deeply,
come on one deep breath, that’s it you can do it.’
Here! Take the camcorder, take some pictures,
focus on the road. Arlene take some moving
videos of the road.
Down, down, we go around and down some
more it seems like a never-ending grade, with no
trees or cover. Arlene has taken to the video, and
using the viewfinder, buried her self in it. I think
she’s taking pictures of the sky, that’s where the
camera is pointing, maybe the van’s ceiling, but
she breathing again, and making a few remarks
about the camera.

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The mountain never let up, we kept going down
until the entrance station, there people were
standing around taking pictures of the National
Park signs and using the facilities. The trees
came up to the roadside, and beyond them you
could hear the babbling brooks. Arlene had
recovered. We were over the worst part of the
downhill journey.
We continued down the canyon pass a couple of
campgrounds, tucked between the creek and the
road. Out beyond the trees and shrubs into an
arid dry hilly area where expensive homes
overlooked the valley, to a barren State Park
beside Cody’s reservoir and through a narrow
pass alongside the dam, into Cody.
We took a liking to Cody right away. Its main
street had motels on the outskirts, a couple of RV
parks, and a busy downtown. We passed a
rodeo arena, The William F. Cody Museum, a
couple of outback outfitters, a town park,
restaurants of every type and description, several
clothing and souvenir stores. There were artist
galleries and hidden studios around town, with
garages to fix your tractor, truck or other
equipment. Around town were residential areas,
that didn’t seem to be ‘developed’, but rather
grew organically, with small and large homes.
As we drove around and visited different places
we always kept thinking about how nice a place

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might be to live there. Cody is one of those
places that has almost everything.
Our first stop was at the Visitors Center. From
there we walked down the street to get a bite to
eat. As we walked along I suggested Chinese or
Seafood. Arlene thought I was crazy. Then I
bumped into a sandwich board. Recovering, it
read ‘ASS KICKING GOOD FOOD’. It was
our first saloon. Here’s where we will eat.
This place was spooky, weird and a little scary. It
was dark, poorly lit with a long bar and equally
long mirror, log rafters, and knotty pine paneled
walls. The booths were straight backed with
padded seats. Peering down at us from every
angle were wild, shot, stuffed animals. A huge
Moose head and rack, similar Elk, one Buffalo
head, an entire Wolf, and Cougar. The Cougar
was crouched over our head, stalking us. In back
there was a small open area for dancing with a
juke box and cowboy/girl restrooms. As we
walked in the floorboards creaked, under our
feet. We slipped passed the tables into a booth.
I ordered a burger from one of those Buffalo’s
that used to roam the countryside, and Arlene
had a Chicken Fried Steak. My steak fries were
¾ inch wide, ¼ inch thick. Arlene claims her
Chicken Fried Steak was the best she ever had.
Her first.
Back on the street we moseyed into a couple of
art galleries. They were pretty interesting, mostly

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western. One gallery owner, a part time resident,
which many folks were, owned this gallery and
two others, one in Connecticut and one in New
York City. He fly’s in from time to time for
several months. We met an artist at his studio
that spends his summers here and winters in
Italy. This kind of transient crowd mixed in with
retirees and a year round young working a
business class and ranchers makes it very
appealing place that offers an economically stable
town, a good level of education, good health
facilities and a healthy environment. What’s not
to like?
After a couple more shops we crossed the park
to the William F. ‘Buffalo Bill’ Cody Museum.
I’ll warn you ahead of time. There’s a rule about
visiting museums, and if you don’t follow it you
may never either see anything or you may never
leave the museum. The rule is simple. Know
what you want to see, no more than five things,
and stick to them. If there are more than five go
again at another time. We didn’t follow our rule
and just by luck were we able to leave the place.
Even then we stayed overnight at a motel.
We believe the Cody Museum is the finest private
museum in North America, better than either
Oklahoma’s or Texas’s Cowboy museums, and
better, yet on a par with Vermont’s Shelburne
Museum. Each section can easily take a day to
review and visit. It has three, so be ready. Its
namesake has the finest collection of ‘Buffalo

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Bill’ memoranda, prairie Indian displays and
natural wildlife we’ve ever seen.

I’m crazy about wagons, here’s one used for the
great cattle drives. A Chuck Wagon that even
Johnny Goodnight would have been proud to
have on the trail.

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Despite its pretty appearance this stagecoach
would not be comfortable to ride in for even a
mile. The seats were low made of wood with
stuffed leather backs. Arlene wouldn’t have liked

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coming down the trail in this Overland Stage the
way we just did.

This painting is typical of an easterner’s
imagination of a Buffalo Drive. It’s a great idea,
yet in all our travels we came across only one
such ‘Cliff Slaughter’. That was in Montana.
The Indian beadwork was magnificent, but not
all of it came from Lewis & Clarke European
trinkets, or Morano, Italy glass, much of the fine
work was stitched together from seeds, for
moccasins, dresses and war bonnets.

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Overall it’s difficult for me to get very excited
about the Indian culture. They have a culture
that wasn’t oriented toward maintenance. Over a
period of hundreds of years, thousands, they
were able to kept the same lifestyle. I’ve seen
arrowheads made 6,000 years ago that look like
the ones made 200 years ago. It took the Indians
the same amount of time to feed themselves
1,000 years ago that it did when the Europeans
arrived in North America. Maintenance is
important, but the more active cultures, more
creative, European and Asian, have introduced so
many changes in their lifestyle, that makes it
more interesting to review and observe.
The west was ‘won’ by the help of Hartford
Connecticut’s Stetson hats, and firearms like Colt,

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Winchester, and Remington. They have all been
moved to Cody and the ‘Fire
Arms’ section of the Museum. Would you like
to see the Albert Nipples ‘Sharps’ M1869 Buffalo
gun, which could shoot 600 yards, so actually?
Recorded Buffalo shot by it 1872 = 3,000, 1873
= 119, and 1874 = 10,000. It’s there. Colt’s
pistols, their ‘45’? They are there. All the
Winchester’s, including Jimmy Stewart’s
repeating rifle, ads and posters that made the
west so wild, and more stuffed award winning
animals than you thought lived in North
America? They are there too.
I even saw a Colt six-shooter like my toy cap gun
when I was 6 years old. I thought they were
called ‘Texans’ with white handles, silver metal,
carved relief along the barrel. I buried one of
these guns under the bridge on Virginia Route 7,
and Shirley Highway in Arlington, Va. while they
built the bridge. It’s nice to know that they
helped stave off the bad guys, just like they did
for me back then.
Here’s one of many posters that Philip R.
Goodwin drew for Winchester. They were used
in magazines as well as stand-alone wall hangings.

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Among the many displays we loved this heavy
cotton duct tent, cast iron cooking gear and
boxed groceries. This would go well with our
eastern friends who surely believe we’re living
and traveling like this. We will use this for our
Christmas card.

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The third section is Western Art, with classic
Fredric Remington, Russell, Moran and Bierstat.
Old paintings that characterize the west and our
Indian culture, and paintings of today’s artist. In
addition to paintings there is a phenomenal
collection of sculptures, both inside and out side
on the grounds of the museums.
Fredrick Remington drew many black and white
paintings for magazines. This 1899 oil ‘An
Overland Station’ shows the action painting he
was famous for, as the Indians are riding down
on the station.

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There were several displays of artist studios. This
one is Remington’s. It’s a good way to tell a little
about the artist. I’ve seen artist’s studios where
they created models to draw from, or studied
views like Monet’s haystacks. With as many as 15
similar painting lined up and painted all at once.

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Albert Bierstadt, known for his Western paintings
of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, painted the
Lower Yellowstone Falls, 1881, from Artist
Point. The same spot where we took several
photos.

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Tom Palmore’s Mountain Lion, ‘Where Elegance
Meets Fear’ 1996, portrays for us the true fear of
the wilderness. Maybe because we’ve read so
much about bears, and learned how we might
deal with them. Also about buffalo and
mountain goats and sheep that we would always
stay away from them, and moose who we
understand climbing a tree might be the best
protection, but under those circumstances we
should be ready to stay up there for a long while.
But, cats we only know as stalkers. Mountain
Lions we believe pick you out, and the few
stories make you out to be much like a mouse.
Not Tom & Jerry.
This painting is 4 feet wide and 6 feet high, and
located on a hallway, where you don’t have much
room to avoid it’s imposing size. It’s scary.

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Sculpture includes works by Fredrick Remington,
including his first piece ‘The Bronco Buster’,
Charles Russell, Harry Jackson and others. The
larger than human and horse is an Unknown
sculpture of Buffalo Bill.

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We left after the first day seeing so many guns we
were dizzy. But true to form we hadn’t made it
to the other sections. Outside on our way to the
van we decided to stay overnight in Cody and
return to the Museum for another day.

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That was a good idea, we stayed at the Big Bear
Motel, with western motif, and pine paneled walls
and a cowboy bed. That’s one that its springs
poke you in the ribs and each time you move
during the night they sing to you. All in all great
fun, if you’re up to it.
It was a good thing we stayed over because it
gave us a chance to drive back in the daylight.
We left Cody around 2 in the afternoon, and
headed for the rise. It should be called
something special for Arlene, but she wasn’t
amused by my idea, so I dropped it.
Before we started climbing up the canyon we ran
into some more road construction. The Interior
Department’s budget has beaten up the staff and
maintenance of our parks all over the country.
Yellowstone, one of the most visited Parks is a
good example of the decline of our parks. They
have been working on these roads for 4 years and
they are still in poor repair. It’s estimated that
they will continue for another 4 years. At that
rate, they will have an on going job, because the
earliest maintenance will need to be repaired
again.
We edged our way forward, having to wait a
couple of times to get the go ahead with the Pilot
Truck. The second time we stopped I heard a
hissing sound. PSST, PSST, PSST , nothing
good could come from that. We had a punctured
tire and it was quickly going flat.

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I stopped in the middle of the road first, but no
one was very happy about that including the
construction workers. After assuring myself that
it was a flat, I pulled off to the other side and got
out to fix, or change the tire. The easiest job was
to find the tire inflator. I emptied it into the tire,
but it was to late. These canisters plug the holes
from the inside. They don’t inflate a tire. I
wasn’t convinced and emptied another with the
same results.
Now I was wondering where the spare tire was.
The last tire I’d changed was about 300 years ago.
It was before they started hiding them, because
no one needed to know. The traffic was able to
pass us, which it did, no one stopped or inquired
about our distress, including the construction
crew.
The spare is under the car, behind the rear
wheels. I got out the jack and began pumping.
Not so funny, but the jack sank into the soft
ground and didn’t lift the van. I thought to take
everything out the Van to lighten the load, but
fortunately Arlene was there and not nearly as
harried as I. She suggested I put a board under
the jack. Hurrah! The van lifted and we slid the
spare, a real tire, not a donut, out from under.
The same technique worked with the jack on the
flat. We replaced it and within an hour we were
back on the road moving across the construction,
headed up the canyon.

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Our return to camp was okay, no other hassle,
which was good as we were both pretty tired.
Next morning, we were in West Yellowstone, and
McDonalds by 7:45 having breakfast, and waiting
for the gas station to open to fix our tire.
Actually we had planned to have breakfast as
usual. We had moved everything out to the
picnic table, our Bear List stuff, the stove,
everything, when the Buffalo started wondering
through.
Did you ever wonder how a buffalo grazes? Not
me, never on my mind, until lately. We backed
off, moving our LIST back and watching from
the van. They munch a bit, take a few steps, and
munch a bit more. In that way they cover a lot
of territory, munching and moseying. From time
to time they lie down, and chew their cud. The
little ones, a rich caramel color, run around
butting each other. We watched one butting its
mother, while she lay there undisturbed.
We got our flat fixed, and replaced on the rear
wheel. Then headed back to camp. On the way
up the Madison River we came across a wide
section which had be swollen by the rains, where
a couple of Trumpeter Swans had built a nest.
The nest, looking a lot like the Eagles nest we’d
seen earlier, was piled high and wide with sticks.
It was several feet wide and rose a couple of feet
above the river. Swans are paired for life; they
are large and elegant birds with long necks and

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large bodies. We watched them for a while,
hoping to see the young ones, but couldn’t tell,
even with the binoculars.
As beautiful as they are, we had several around
our dock in Connecticut. It was important to
keep Sheba our large Labrador, away from them.
She would watch them, from our Sloop, but was
never allowed to swim with them. They would
drown her; by climbing up on her head and
sitting there holding her under the water. Swans
and bird dogs are not friendly towards each
other.
We are preparing to leave Yellowstone. The
good news is there hasn’t been any rain for a day.
We will be able to pack our tent dry. It’s much
easier sliding the fiberglass poles out of the
sleeves, folding, and bagging them. I’ve opened
the car top carrier and cleaned it out. It still had
some powdery white sand from Florida. Our
tent, it’s poles, additional blankets, tarps an axe, a
hand saw, our accounts, some other camp
equipment which we haven’t used, and a small
suit case of clothes are all packed up there. The
carrier is strapped down to the overhead rails as
it’s pretty heavy. Once packed, closed and locked,
I put a couple of bungi cords across the top in
hopes that it wouldn’t open on the road.
We’ve also cleaned out the back of the van. The
pile on our table reminds us, again that we should
cut down on all the stuff. Cleaning and

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sweeping the back of the Van made us feel good.
On one side, near the sliding door we packed our
cooking gear, pots, pans, dishes & utensils all of
which fit into the largest pail and cover. It’s
makes an easy kit to pack, and we put the
Coleman stove and gas bottles beside it.
Our food is kept in a couple of plastic trays. It’s
mostly dry goods like pasta, potatoes, and coffee,
or canned goods, vegetables, spaghetti sauce, and
tuna. Our paper towels, and toilet goods are kept
with the food. We keep a few cold things and
fresh berries in a collapsible ice chest. I’ve tried
to put the porta-poti in the car top carrier, but
then couldn’t close it, so it goes as far away from
the food as it can go, behind my seat. It may
never be used. Our clothes are packed around
the Porta-poti, in another small suitcase. All these
things are moved to the front seats and floor,
each night so we’ll have room to sleep.
Behind these things, we keep our bedding.
During the day we pile the inflatable, a couple of
magic orange pads that inflate automatically, our
blue and yellow canvas air mattresses, sheets,
pillows, fleece blankets, and our slippery nylon
black, but warm sleeping bags on the side of the
van.
At night the car is readied for sleeping. We put
down the orange pads, the air mattresses on top
of them, with just enough air to allow them to be
placed beside each other. Too much and they

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overlap. Our slippery sleeping bags go next, and
if it’s cold we zip them together. I often get the
chills, where my body temperature drops, so our
blankets go inside to ward off the cold. We each
have two pillows, which works well as we often
read at night with our ‘miners’ head-ban lights.
Our heads go at the back of the van, while
reading they are propped up on our laundry bag,
tools, and a couple of American flags. Our
clothes are draped on the back of the van’s seats.
Shoes are a problem and usually end up on the
pile, in the front seat, while my small clock and
pepper spray go under my pillow.
We have the pepper spray, a large bottle of it, for
hiking security. We use it along with our
camping bells. I’ll have to remember to get rid of
the pepper spray before entering Canada. Matt
worked with the Canadian customs and told us
not to take it into Canada. He recommended we
get rid of it, and once in Canada buy another one.
Sounds like good advice, because customs could
also confiscate everything we own, or level a large
fine.
We won’t be fully packed until tomorrow
morning. Once done it all fits together pretty
well. Although we’d like a little larger vehicle,
both of us thing it would be nice to have a Class
B traveling van, with a refrigerator, generator,
and toilet. It seems like we’ve been here for a
long time. We wonder what would keep us from
staying another month? A nice campground, we

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rated as a 4, the highest since Wright Lake in
Apalachicola. Arlene liked the people, but we
would need a shower, regular food, and a glass of
wine. That would probably sell her on staying.
I’d like one of those conversion vans where we
could eat, sleep and spend some time in the
luxury of inside space.
We will see if we get all the way to Alaska. Or if
we have exceeded our dreams, with our simplistic
vehicle. Camping is not done in a tent, not for as
long as we perceive it. We’ll see.
We’re ready to go. Janet and Richard, our maybe
cousin, Zimmerman’s, made us wonderful Bon
Voyage breakfast. Real coffee, we’d switched to
instant, as it was easier to prepare in the morning.
Orange juice, pancakes, eggs and bacon. Boy
what a send off. Janet also gave Arlene a coffee
pot. They had been really swell to us, including
choosing our campsite, and telling us stories
about their lives and many adventures here in
Yellowstone.
We finally closed the doors of the van and left an
empty, clean site behind as we drove out of
Madison Campground by 9:30. We’re headed for
Missoula Montana. We stopped in West
Yellowstone one more time to make sure our
tires were all filled to 35 pounds and then headed
out along Madison River.

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8 MOOSE DROOL, COPPER OR BUST
MONTANA

Like Jackson Hole, and the Tetons the geologic
fault follows along the Madison River. It’s really
stunning. Here’s a landslide closed off the entire

valley, until it was cleaned up enough for the
river and road to go through.
Along the fault, which rises as a cliff a couple of
hundred feet above the river. The fields and
forest then climb slowly into the mountains.
Between the river and us is a ½ mile of sloping
grazing land, and an occasional ranch. Barbed
wire lines both sides of the road. On our eastern
side are a couple of miles of rolling grassy hills
climbing into the mountains.

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We’ve seen a few antelope, along the plains of
New Mexico. Here along the Madison is an
entire herd. They run along with us and I’ve
been able to take some video pictures of them.

We’re going through several of these Montana
mining towns, Virginia and Sliver City, Butte, and
Anaconda. Mining whether for gold, silver or
copper has a short life span. These towns all
boomed before they went bust. Each owned and
controlled by a single industry and company, with
little oversight by government. We need to
adjust to this type of country, and people. It’s
wide open, miles and miles of forests, mountains,
and grazing lands, where even today individuals
provide their own security and law in these
remote areas.

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We had expected Missoula to be a town with
both working people, miners, students, and
artists. It’s an educational center with the
University of Montana, and an artist colony. It
was all of these things, but they weren’t
integrated. In town were the college students,
and workers, on the slopes were the ‘slopees’.

The ‘slopees’ were creating a different city,
young; financially sound with lots of kids, from
distant west coast cities, with different attitudes.
Not so free, rugged or independent, as the
original people they want more services, and will
pay for them. They, like other ‘slopees’ across
the south, Florida to Arizona, were creating a
different, atmosphere, building isolated
developments, replacing the older residents, and
their social moraes with there own big city
interests and economic standards.

This wave of urbanites into the rural areas of our

country is due to the ‘Information Age’,
technology. Our computers, networks,
electronics, and the internet have advanced so
far, that we are able to work anywhere. It has

and is creating a new social and economic order
around the entire world.

We were able to drive around Missoula and get a
good idea about it. On one side of town were
the new shopping centers, with all the big box
stores. The east side had the University and
older residential area. Downtown a river ran

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through, with older stores that weren’t to busy,
yet lots of interesting characters on the streets.
We stopped at the Court House. Inside, the
floors were 1950’s style tiles, doors, and windows
were made of Oak. The main entrance had
pillars wrapped in vinyl or oilcloth. There were
several murals on the walls, all done by one artist,
and not very appealing. One was a hunting
scene, one the Lewis & Clark exposition, and one
of the Flathead Indians, cowboys and
frontiersmen.
While there we learned of an Army Navy store,
which we finally found. It was worth the search.
The store was like a discount outfitter, with
fishing, hunting, water sports, camping and
clothing. We found Levis for $25, a western
staple, and our favorite, a couple of heavy plaid
flannel shirts. We bought only one each, but
should have filled the van with them.
We would learn later, after leaving that the Blue
Sky Brewery was just outside of Missoula. They
brew Moose Drool, the brown ale. Our new
favorite beer. That would have been a great place
to visit. We might have camped there.
Instead we headed south out of town toward
Lolo Pass. It’s a long drive, 30 miles to the Lewis
& Clark Campground, much further than we
thought. Heading up the valley toward the pass,
we encountered a stream that had earlier broken
over its boundaries. There were ranch houses or

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cabins along the way; many were on the grassy
flats between the valley hills. A couple had water
up to their doorsills.
If you had ever wondered what to do with
ponderosa pines, this valley would tell you. Use
the wood to build, cabins, houses, bridges, and
barns. Everything was built from these logs.
The spring floods had subsided, but it was easy
to see what these people endured each year, often
isolating them from everyone. They would need
to wait until the snows melted and the water
dropped down, before they could repair their
bridges and get out of their homes and into town.

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Several bridges had collapsed, and washed out by
the raging water and trees. Here are a couple of
pictures along Route 12 heading up toward Lolo
Pass. One is a pile of trees that had been swept
against a wooden bridge. The other is a pile of
logs that were left after the river receded. You
can see how far they were from the riverbed.
Our campground was further up the valley in the
Bitterroot Mountains, close to the Idaho border
and Lolo Pass. It was rustic with only a few
campsites in the pines, on a steep hillside. We
had a nice bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon with our
spaghetti.

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After dinner we walked around the campground.
There were no bear signs and we had been told
there were no bears. Despite reading how
difficult the Bitterroot Mountains had been on
the Lewis and Clark expedition, because there
were no large animals in the mountains at the
time. They nearly starved. It’s believed the
animals lived on the plains with the Indians until
chased to the safety of the mountains after years
of being hunted. We’re inclined to believe that
our ‘Bear’ preparation is the best way to go, so
we follow the ‘Bear List’ and nothing goes on the
picnic table, and everything in the van is covered.
We also understand bears can read and it’s no
problem for them to distinguish between Lay’s
potato chips and corn chips or Pepsi and Coke.
There were only a few campers. One had their
stove, cooking utensils and food uncovered on

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the table. Their tent was also open. We
shuttered, as they were not there either.
This campground, in the Lolo National Forest,
was rated a 2. It had vaulted toilets, a pit, and
only one water spigot. It began to rain in the
evening; by dark it was darker than we’d seen.
We slept great and by morning were ready to
head up to the Pass.

Lolo Pass is a place where Lewis and Clark’s
group were glad to be, as they were sure that just
beyond was the Pacific Ocean. Their enthusiasm
would wain as they almost froze and starved. By
the time they made it over these mountains they
had eaten most of their horses. Their accounts
of a diet seemed to be mostly meat. Each
member could eat a couple of pounds a day.
Their diet included beaver tails, buffalo tongue

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and bear, and to keep mosquitoes at bay they
spread buffalo fat all over themselves. Berries
and roots were seldom on their menu.
Lolo Pass is also known for the Nez Perce
Indians. Chief Joseph was being chased around
the northwest by the US Army. He eluded them,
leading his tribe of 800 men, women, and
children across Lolo Pass, and into Canada.
When we got to the pass there was no one there.
Fortunately, our timing wasn’t too far off and in
a few minutes a couple Rangers showed up. We
had crossed into Idaho and into the Pacific Time
zone. Thereby being an hour behind our
mountain time.
The Rangers were great they told us stories about
the mountains, and the Nez Pierce. We walked
down a trail to where we could see faint traces of
the ruts the Indians horses made, over 100 years
before. The snow kept us from walking further
along their trail.
Some places are lonely outposts. Here, Arlene
waits for the Rangers at their cabin. The cabin
serves as an office, visitor’s center and warming
hut. As a visitor I’d say you really had to want to
stop otherwise you’d pass right on by.

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There was one more place we wanted to visit in
Missoula before moving into Idaho. It was the
Smoke Jumpers Center.
Here about 75 men and women train and head
out to forest fires across the northwest and
Alaska. They are the first at a forest fire and are
dropped by parachute behind the fire lines. Each
person carries between 70 and 90 pounds of
equipment with them, and they prepare their own
parachute.
Here are a couple of pictures that show the
amount of equipment they air drop and the way
they hang their parachutes before packing.

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They are a small band, 12, may be dropped
behind a fire, where they might cut firebreaks of
3 feet to stop an advancing fire. The fire season
begins for them in Alaska earlier in the summer
and moves south into the northwestern states,
and Canada. There are usually more fires in
Montana during July.
We were left with the impression that the Center
was truly business, always on the alert like
firemen in a firehouse. Even though they took
time to talk to us about their work, there was
always the feeling that they were ready to drop

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the small talk and head for the plane that sat on
the tarmac ready to go.
There were some picnic tables on the side of the
Center, among a group of Aspen. We took
advantage of them and had a picnic. It was a
beautiful sunny day and to our surprise there
were several owls in the tops of the trees. They
were large, fluffy, and grayish white. We watched
them while they watched us. I suppose they were
Great Horned Owls.
After a late lunch we headed back to Lolo
National Forest, and plotted our trip toward
Blanchard Idaho, where our rented timeshare
was. It rained again, all night. We sleep well in
the rain. Arlene was looking for the umbrella.
She can’t find it even though it always stays right
behind her seat. I suppose we’re both like that,
when we want to find something we can’t.

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When I’m looking for a pen she says I’m pissed
and couldn’t see one when it’s right in front of
me. Then she finds it for me. I suppose I should
call her the ‘Great Finder’. Me, all I ask is one
place for everything. That makes it simple; take it
out use it and replace it.
For example: Arlene has a purple waste band
carrier. More important than anything are her
keys to the car. She carries them in it, because
her pant pockets are to shallow. In any given

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period of time, say 10 minutes, I can find the
purple pouch in 3 locations and never on her. In
30 minutes it can be in 7 or 8 places. She doesn’t
always move it herself. It may be a passing spirit,
or a hundred ants or spiders. Possibly it has legs
of its own. Oh yes, and occasionally I put it
where she will find it. My point is that we will be
out and only have one set of keys, mine. But
they will be mislaid and she’ll have left hers in the
locked van.
Arlene has her own view of the lost and found
issue. I don’t agree, but here’s her story.
‘Richard is like a bull and has no patience when
looking for something or for instance trying to
fix the zipper on the sleeping bags. I’m afraid he
will tear things to pieces or break everything in
sight in frustration. Usually I can fix it or find it!
If he can’t.’
Usually it’s good that we have different views,
but it would certainly help if she would just try to
do it my way, once. ‘His idea is either: He’s right
or the Highway’.
We drove down the mountainside, through
Missoula and up onto Interstate 90. These roads
are the quickest way to get from one part of the
country to another. They are our safest roads
and cut a wide swath in the country with good
visibility on all sides. The drive was along the
valley, with a river, grasslands and mountains
covered with tall evergreens. It was pretty. We

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enjoyed the easy trip into Idaho and Coeur
d’Alene.
Never the less there is a rule about roads. It’s
about the paint stripes. The number of stripes
on a road are indirectly proportional to the
beauty, scenery, and of course safety. So as we’re
driving along the interstate, with 5 stripes on each
side, making 10 in total, the sense of the
countryside and what its people are doing in it is
far less than a dirt road with no stripes.
Yet the dirt road, or single stripe hardtop
discloses the use and beauty of the country. This
rule leads us to be ‘Blue’ road people.
Occasionally we’ll find a gray road on our map
that we’ll take, and it’s even better. For sure had
we left Missoula on a ‘blue’ road we would have
driven right past the Big Sky Brewery. On
Interstate 90 we even missed the sign for it. In
Yellowstone, if there weren’t so much
construction the roads would have had one strip,
to guide the buffalo to their next pasture.

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9 A TIME SHARE BREAK
IDAHO

We stopped in Coeur d’Alene, a pretty city along
the lake where we watched seaplanes taxi around.
The town is new, with modern building and
baskets of blooming flowers on ever lamppost.
Idaho is mostly an agriculture state with potatoes
and lumber their largest industry. There’s also
mining, but in the last decade the economy and
‘Microsoft’ from the neighboring Washington
State have been so strong that the folks along the
coastline have moved into Idaho for their
recreation, buying and redirecting a traditional
way of life.

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Blanchard, is a small town north of Coeur
d’Alene. We’ve taken a time- share week there in
hopes of visiting the area and preparing for our
Alaskan push into Canada. This would be our
last stop in what we believed was the civilized
continental United States. From here on out we
would really be on the frontier, on the edge of
the civilized world. We expected to be traveling
where few humans had tread and even few lived.

It’s fair to compare our time-share basis with
Blanchard. We have one in Bermuda, which

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overlooks St George and the bay. It has a front
door, a living, dining, and bedroom, a small
kitchen, and a large bathroom. There’s a deck off
of the living room, and windows looking out
across St George from every room except the
bath.

Here, we have a single room with a sofa, bed,
dinette, kitchenette, and bathroom. Our entrance
is down a hallway. It’s a different place, and
upon arriving we understood why vacancies are
always advertised in the Time-Share news.
We loaded this small space with plenty of our
stuff. Food, dirty clothes, a few clean clothes,
and everything we deemed valuable, or would
send home. On our way from Coeur d’Alene
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here. The most important was to wash
everything including ourselves. Visit my cousin
Ann in Sandpoint, and the submarine testing
sight at Lake Farragut.
We also will actually pack and ship things home.
Not just talk about it. At this point we had two
battery driven TV’s. One, a 5” diagonal that was
great as long as you didn’t want to read anything
on the screen, like a ball score. We probably
don’t need the 9” either, going into country that
doesn’t have reception. We expected to ship 50
pounds at least.
I didn’t think I’d ever get out of the shower. It
felt so good, hot and soothing every muscle.
Arlene was ready too. We made dinner, watched
television until 9 and slept through the night.
By this time in our travels we weren’t going to
miss any opportunity to live-it-up under a roof.
Our breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon, Florida
orange juice, and coffee attest to that. Full and
ready to go we tackled our shipping issue first.
Newport was about 20 miles away, and with our
large box we found the Post Office. Arlene
opened the door and I carried our 60 pound
shipment inside. But, we had gotten there late
and it was closed for the afternoon. A lady
suggested UPS, down around the corner. We
used them, and off our 45 lb. box went to
Florida. We also exchanged dollars for Canadian
dollars.

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Our shipment arrived in Florida okay, but the 5”
TV was packed in a smaller frozen vegetable box.
So our neighbors kept it in their freezer until we
returned!
Idaho and Washington have 2 days of free
fishing. Unfortunately we’ll have to wait until the
next time we visit to take advantage of catching a
trout. We’d also have to find someone to skin
and gut it. We’ll cook and eat it though.
To finish off the day we wrote post cards and
reviewed our bills. We had spent a lot, over
$1500 during May, or about $50 dollars a day.
We would be broke if we continued spending like
drunken sailors. We need to cut back on our
wild life. Although, it looks like we’re continuing
on our spree here in June.
Today were going to visit Cousin Ann and
Gordon in Sandpoint. As a Zimmerman I’ve run
out of cousins, they are all dead. As for my
mother’s side there are still a few living. Ann is
one of them even though we’ve never visited.
She used to live in Washington D.C., and visited
Mom and Pop, before marrying and moving to
Idaho.
We chatted a little and then went on a tour of the
area, to the local ski resort at the top of the
mountains, down to the lakeside, and a town
named Hope, and had a nice lunch there on the
water.

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This is Boileau’s on Lake Pend Oreille

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And back to their home in Sandpoint. We
stopped downtown at the home office and store
of Cold Water Creek. It was a cool place, on
Main Street, built with huge logs out across a
creek in back. It’s an upscale retailer, and
fortunately we had just made space for some new
things. Arlene was able to oblige.
Back at their home we talked about many things
including Gordon’s life and adventures in the
outback. He had spent many enjoyable years in

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the forests as a Ranger, and retired as an
administrator under an avalanche of paper work.
Enough, I suppose to cause anyone to lose
interest in their work.
We asked him about different wild animals he
had come face to face with. Had he ever seen a
Mountain Lion? What did he think was the most
dangerous animal? And so on. He was swell and
told us all kinds of stories.
He usually traveled in the forest by himself, and
always carried a revolver with him. Among other
jobs he estimated the value of the timber in
certain areas. The revolver was never a problem
and he never used it in thirty years. Sometimes
he had to go into Canada to reach remote areas
back in the US. He then would disassemble the
gun, into many parts and then reassembling it
once back in US territory.
We were thoroughly impressed by some of his
early stories when he told us about the Cougar
that was stalking him. He was in dense forest
and saw it off the path in front of him. So he
backed down the path. Later, he saw it again up
the trail from him. It was watching him, and
again he backed down the path. Once again he
spotted it, even closer. This time he backed off
and left the area until another day.
He didn’t seem to be disturbed by this encounter
and clearly didn’t think a big cat was the most
dangerous animal in the woods. I guess my

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