But “best” is a subjective quality, and the attractive bits of a waterfall are not always enough to mitigate the unattractive bits—namely, people. Yes, people. Hordes of them. They make waterfalls deeply unappealing to people like me—namely, misanthropes.
Sixty-six million years ago the earth was going through a transition. The climate was changing, and Montana was shifting from a sub-tropical to a more arid environment.
Wild Horse Island is a real “jewel” that shines among Montana’s State Park system. It is the largest island in Montana’s beautiful, pristine Flathead Lake and lies within the boundaries of the Flathead Indian Reservation between Missoula and Kalispell.
Members of Montana’s Native peoples called it the “Medicine Line,” the White people’s invisible trace of the 49th parallel. They knew that the “medicine line” offered safety from pursuing U. S. military units bent on forcing them onto reservations in the late 19th century.
The wilderness supports riparian forests that hold spruce, alpine larch, white bark pine and fir in the sub-alpine areas to vegetation up on the high mountain slopes. Wildlife include elk, bear, bighorn sheep, mountain goats along with one of my favorites, the Pika. It protects the watershed and boosts nearby economies with tourism.
They seemed oddly out-of-place in the landscape, as if they had been dumped out of the sky and onto the forest floor below. Their rusty color contrasted with the drab gray of the boulders lying outside the perimeter of the pile.
The geyser basins had already been visited by the Washburn Expedition, but it was the Hayden group who got to see the eruptions of some of the park’s largest geysers. They gave them names such as Giant, Giantess, Grand and Castle.
During my years among mountain goats, studying their lives and capturing their images on film beginning in the 1970s in Montana, lightning seemed to follow me like a faithful companion. Several times I shed my camera and lenses, spotting scope and tripod, and sprinted for cover.
Two jumpers are in the air – they make sure they stay a safe distance apart on their descent to the jump spot. The first jumpers land in the spot. The J-13 is now over the exit point, and the second two jumpers exit the plane.
Montana is known for her majestic mountains in the west, and the dusty prairies in the east. As the beautiful craggy cliffs give way, however, the mountains taper down until they are little more than undulating hills with the occasional rocky outcropping.
Sliding, he picked up speed. Snow that had frozen, melted, and refrozen into shards tore at his skin while rocks, jutting out of the snow like land mines, struck his head and body, leaving large gashes but failing to slow his descent
Confined to the 39,000 acres that is the Pryor wild horse range, these horses are wedded to the landscape. Many are clothed with the very colors of the Pryor Mountains themselves. Horses the color of dampened limestone, faded grass, and mudstone.
With 9,000+ foot peaks surrounded this untamed area that’s home to countless elk, moose, a smattering of wolverines, black bears, mountain lions, and the rumored grizzly. For those seeking adventure or solitude, the Little Belts are the place to be.
Cooke’s graphic description indicates that the bear’s claws literally scraped flesh from the bones of the shoulder and thigh. George C. Yount’s narrative strongly suggests that another wound perforated the windpipe, which spurted a “red bubble every time Hugh breathed.”
With each mile gained in elevation, the oxygen deprivation distracts your driving as does the granite splendor you behold at every turn. Even in July the snow stays on the ground at this elevation and skiers, sunny skies, swaying wildflowers, and tourists alike indulge in this rugged high beauty and marvel at the ingenuity of the highway.
Montana is infamous for its extremes of terrain and weather. Snowstorms can howl across this state like packs of white wolves, screaming through the streets, burying cars and stranding drivers in white-out conditions. Roads become glazed with ice and ground blizzards destroy visibility.
Winter is a most elegant time in Glacier Park with a landscape that appears donned with feathers, furs and jewels. On a sunny day evergreen trees appear to be cloaked in white sequins and frost forms a delicate lace on bony branches.
Call him what you will—Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Imoiitapi, the Blackfeet name meaning “hairy man”—this being has held an important place in Native culture for centuries.
Rappelling in, you arrive in a large room named the Cloak Room. It is here that you shed your climbing gear; it won’t be needed until you ascend back up the rope to your above-ground home. From here you have fourteen miles of known passages that twist, turn, split, dead-end, and squeeze under rocks to explore.
It took about 20 years and a lot of engineering to build the road connecting the east to the west sides. Some men quit when they saw the icy heights they’d have to climb.
