Three months in the NW with 2 dogs and a cat in a van

Sleam

Explorer
Taking Cat Stephen for a ride, I couldn't get anyone to stay with him so the little bugger is now an honorary dirt road and dogger…

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Day one in the van with two dogs and a cat went surprisingly smoothly. The first mile out of my place is dirt road, shaking up the van nicely, and Stevie was contained in the large soft carrier. He didn’t like the noise. He didn’t like being contained. It was loud. For about ten minutes. He protested. I reassured. Rosie looked out the window and Harold looked worried.

North of Ojo Caliente, about an hour and a half from home, I pulled off onto a Forest Service road and let the dogs out. I opened up the windows, pulled down the screens, and let Stevie out of the carrier. With a bowl of water and the freedom to stretch his legs a little in the peace of a stopped vehicle, I left him to it. Five or ten minutes later, we returned, the dogs had run, peed and pooped, and were in a better mood. This was now the test. Attaching Stevie to the leash and opening the doors for him to explore. He didn’t want to, not really. A very nervous tiger he was, he scooted under the van, but it seemed to help him, to hang out with all of us outside, drink a little water, take a break.

When we set off again, I had him attached to his lightweight leash, which in turn was attached to the thin long dog tie-down. This way Stevie could find a favorite place in the van yet I knew he couldn’t escape through a window or door when I would next stop. We drove quietly for another hundred miles and pulled off on FR250 heading into the Rio Grande National Forest. The river flowed thick and fast, flooding much of the valley to the left of the dirt road. After five miles we stopped for a lunch break and the dogs ran through the meadow to the river and soaked up a gallon each, Rosie returned a brown wet dog instead of her usual white self. Great.

Stevie timidly stepped down and under the van. He no longer seemed as shocked by the day’s events, but more curious. He showed no interest in running off which was great. We hung out in the shade of the van and ate a sandwich, drank water, the usual kind of light meal. Stevie popped back into the van and climbed up on the shelf again, his happy spot.

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I’d forgotten how far it to get to Stunner Pass and a slowly driven twenty nine miles later, along a narrow steep gravelly switch-back laden road we came to the pass of 10,541 feet. Snow hid in the shade of the barren Aspens. Rosie was getting restless. Harold and Stevie were quiet. The campground of five sites had only one other family. I let the dogs roam free, attached Stevie to the tie-out, and opened up the doors, settling in for a few days here. The Alamosa River is full of snowmelt and the constant roar reminds me of the ocean. This is stunning, a deep valley between ranges, with tall pines and a thick forest of Aspens only just beginning to bud out.

In 1892, some four hundred miners set up camp here during the Gold Rush, with a post office next to the river and mail delivered by sled dog for six months per year. By the early 1900’s though, all but a few miners had moved on looking for more gold, more gold, and more gold. There is one cabin at the entrance to this primitive campground, partially restored by the looks of it, but falling down again.
In the middle of the night, Harold wakes me shaking and whimpering as he looks out the window. It’s cold for sure and I figured he’d seen or heard some animal and was scared. With a blanket over him, I fell back asleep. I woke soon though to the sounds and smells of diarrhea. Yep, Harold ******** all over the van carpet. Poor bugger. I struggled to find the flashlight and attach Stevie to a leash. Harold leaps out unhappily as I throw out his bed and the carpet matt. I look down to see I’m standing in wet sloppy brown poop. ****. Yes. I climb out, it’s bloody cold, and I wash off in the dogs’ water bowl. Harold has climbed back inside onto my bed and fallen asleep, snoring. Rosie is still asleep. Stevie purrs.

The morning at the campsite is even better than last night, a slow moving mist, the roar of the river, a smoky fire and strong coffee. The other campers left early. The doors are open to the van and all animals are off leash, free to roam. Stevie comes and goes a little, all the sights and sounds and smells suitably awe him. His shelf is his happy place. Harold’s bum is still giving him issues. Rosie is muddy again. And I’m tired and my cheeks (upper cheeks) ache from smiling so much.

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Life is good.

There are more photos and stories on the website and on instragram at dirtroadsanddogs.

Thanks! I'll keep you posted once a week I think.
 
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Sleam

Explorer
Steamboat springs and Elk River road for now. The dispersed camping is along nf400, about 30 miles from town. Snowing a couple of miles past my campsite. All the pets are relaxed after a couple of days walking and napping. We're off to Dinosaur NP on the way to Wyoming. My goal is to be in Jackson WY by Sunday... well that's the plan.
I wish i knew how to add photos here from the Android. Hmm...
 
My hat's off to you even considering taking a cat on a road trip, I'm not so sure I like dealing with them when at home :)

Happy travels!
 

Sleam

Explorer
Good days and bad days

We woke up as the sun came over the snow capped mountains. I opened the doors and Harold and Rosie ran outside to sniff and pee next to Elk River, full of snowmelt and tree trunks flashing past our campsite. The sun warms me as I set up the coffee and light a fire. The dogs run free. Stevie sits in the doorway, stretching and relaxed. He pops down and follows Harold into the little clump of five-foot ponderosas. Then he catches up with Rosie in the tall grass and sage bushes that cover the open range to the north of the van. The coffee brews as I get dressed and the fire catches light and gives off a warmth that I crave. I hunker down next to it, sipping and watching the critters play together.

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Good days. Yep, we have good days. Like today, we have the safety and space to stretch our legs in peace and quiet. The river’s waves are the soundtrack. The sun marks the time of day. The routines are established. Coffee. Fire. Small walk with Stevie included. Put him back inside the van and close the doors as I feed him. Big two mile walks with dogs. Back for their breakfast, releasing the cat, and second cup of coffee for me. The fire needs tending and I sit next to it as I drink and feed it with down and dead wood found near by. I fill the bucket with ice-cold water and wash myself. I stretch for half an hour but Rosie likes to step under my version of downward dog so that’s not as easy as it could be. The sun is up fully and warm so it’s time for shorts and a tee shirt. The critters find their spots and lie down for another nap. Stevie is most comfortable on his shelf with my clothes, peering down up on us. I wash my smalls (socks and the such) in the bucket and hang them out to dry. Breakfast for me next, chopped veggies, left over chili, and an egg for this morning. I read as the fire dies down, finish the chapter, and wash the dishes.
Not a bad start to the day here in the valley north of Steamboat Springs. It’s taken us five days to cover about 600 miles. This might take a few months to get to Oregon…

Bad days. Yep, we have bad days. Two days of them, in a row, and I was exhausted, figuring out if I should head home and leave Stevie with friends. Or would he be happier staying even if fighting us constantly?
Fifty miles or so north of Salida, Colorado, we’re driving up another mountain pass on hwy 24 when the family has a melt down, all but Rosie.
Me: too much coffee and not enough to eat.
Harold: bum tum, needs to get out fast.
Stevie: “Let me out! Let me out! I can’t stand this! It’s too much. I hate you all. I hate you all. I’ll rip you to shreds if you don’t let me out. NOW!”

I pull over at the peak of the pass in a layby and let the dogs out. I grab Stevie and attach a leash and a rope to that. I open the door and he makes a run for it, through the trees, heading away from the family and the van that he hates so much. He’s all over the place, panting and wheezing and having a panic attack. I hold the rope and follow him around, hoping he’ll wear himself out. Finally he pees under a pinion and wheezes as he walks slowly back to the van and jumps in and finds his water bowl. I unloop the rope but attach his leash to the crate inside so that he can’t make a jump out of a window or door if he has another panic attack.
I eat some sandwiches, and Harold hides behind the trees making funny noises. Rosie just sniffs and wanders round before begging for the crust. I’m exhausted. How do I do this when Stevie hates it so much? Was it wrong of me to bring him along? I don’t know but that morning was the hardest this week. His anguish tore me up.

Later that day, we arrived at Crosho Lake, a small 30-acre lake in the Flat Tops outside of Yampa, Colorado. It’s a glorious little deep blue pond surrounded by snow covered mountains and untouched ponderosas and aspens. Local fishers park just past this free National Forest campground and for some reason I’m uneasy. The dogs jump out and explore as I set up camp. Stevie is inside the van still. Harold and Rosie chase something up through the trees behind me and Harold comes back with ears down, looking uneasy. The trucks come and go, loud voices and louder music. I’m uneasy. I’d hoped to stay here a couple of nights but we don’t. I keep Stevie on a rope at all times, even though it means that his morning walk is a scramble through the woods with me trying gamely to keep up. It works though, he’s worn out by the time we get back to the van and he simply jumps up to his happy place, the clothes shelf. His leash is then tied to the crate again. This valley, as beautiful as it is, is not safe for us. I pack up, douse the fire, and we head for Steamboat Springs north of here by only 80 miles. We drive up and down huge mountain passes in the Rockies; the Continental Divide is my constant companion on this trip it seems. The van, known as Vera Danell VanDreamy McLeamy, climbs and descends these mountains without a hiccup. From 6800 feet to 13,541 and back to 7900 feet in half an hour. No worries, mate.

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In Steamboat, I find a pet store and explain the stress on my poor kitty. Susan finds me some calming treats, but they’re for dogs so she calls the manufacturer and asks about giving them to a cat. No worries we’re told. I also get some Rescue remedy for us all. Susan chatted to me a while, easing my tension with simple conversation. Oh, and next door was a liquor store so I got a six-pack for my own mental health. Rescue remedy in the water bowls for the critters and direct into mouth for me. I take the dogs for a walk downtown and along the river, it’s great, I like the style and the feel of the place. I’ve left Stevie with the special dog treat and laced water, hoping for a mellower cat.

Susan, from the pet store, recommended Elk River Road, which was on my research list as a place of camping in the forests and it’s good that a local tells me the same. We find the turn off and pull off on the NF 400 dirt road until I see some dispersed campsites by the river. A few others are camped here and I find a space with fire pit and obvious parking spot a short distance away. I step out alone and take a breath. It feels safe. I have no strange fears or creeping nerves. I open the doors and let the critters out. We walk, all of us, Stevie unleashed and free, and he does his happy skip and follows Harold. It’s a good day. Finally.

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Good days and bad das. I have to listen to my instincts. I can’t keep to a rigid plan if the campsite isn’t good for all of us. When it’s a short term, one night, we have to stop kind of a place; I’m okay with keeping everyone on leashes and ropes. It’s temporary. They all walk pretty well on leash, the dogs follow my lead, and at other times, I have to follow Stevie’s. At night, I research other options, the next places along the route I’ve roughly planned for us. I consider distances and keep our driving days to 150 miles maximum. The mornings are spent with walks, campfires, and breakfast. If we’re staying and it’s therefore safe for us all, the doors are open and we laze around, in and out of the van, napping for the critters, and fiddling around for me. I check out the next destination for reviews online (when I have the Verizon connection) and descriptions, looking for small lightly used NF and BLM campgrounds that are free, or close to. Places that aren’t too closed in but where the dogs and hopefully Stevie can walk safely with no surprises. It’s a process, working out what we need now that Stevie is with us. Shade for the van in the daytime. Little traffic. Quiet and calm. That’s the goal.

Today though is a good day. Rosie has been amusing herself playing in the dirt. Harold naps on my (our) bed. Stevie naps on his shelf. I did the laundry, read, cooked, and cleaned up before reading some more. The afternoon will be much of the same.


WYOMING

Finally, we made it out of Colorado. It took me a week to drive 700 miles, a roundabout kind of a route through the Rockies and up into southern Wyoming. I’d heard of a small rustic campground in the Dinosaur National Monument but on further research found that the road was severely rutted after winter and hadn’t been fixed yet. My attitude to Vera the Van is slightly more timid and cautious than with Faith the 4Runner. This is my home now, I need to take no extra risks than are necessary. With map and smartphone in hand, the back up plan was to shange directions and head towards Willard, Colorado and then north towards Saratoga, WY. That’s where we are, but again, not as originally planned.
The BLM campground (the turn off is at mile marker 17 on Hwy 130) was so flooded there was no road, no tent sites, and no river as such. It looked like swamp lands of Alabama. I parked near by, took my shoes off, and we splashed our way around, taking photos, and watching Rosie dive in and out of the puddles and running river. Then the mosquitos found me.
Back at the van, Stevie was unimpressed and sat inside. I made a cup of tea, slathered DEET all over me and sat down to work out what next. This is the good side of driving slowly and not very far every few days, I’m not tired or stressed. Hundred and fifty miles at most every other day, this will take months to get to Oregon! The animals are more relaxed and at ease with this pace too, even the cat. When plans change, I have the time to sit and find another place for the night. This time it was to head back into Saratoga to the city owned fee campground on their wildlife reservoir. It’s empty, spacious, and full of birds, including a whole flock of cranes, magestically swooping overhead to land in the water and float by. Over and over again. Peacefull. The slight storm last night kept the sky colorful and the rain soft against the roof. It was a great way to fall asleep.

The doors are open, and all four of us went for a walk this morning along the lake. The mosquitos are the only downside but more goop and they leave me alone. Rosie is sleeping under the table in the shade, Stevie and Harold are in the van on the bed. Coffee, walk, breakfast, cleaning up, and stretching, that’s how I start my days.

This afternoon, we’re heading into Saratogo itself. There is a library so I can get internet and send off my articels, check emails, and research Lander Wyoming. The other charming thing about this town of 1450 is the hobo hot springs downtown, with showers and a park. That will be my reward for doing my homework!

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parkkitchings

Adventurer
Check out the city park in Lander. Right in town (walking distance) and they have free camping along the river. Good spot if laying up in Lander.
 

Sleam

Explorer
Thanks but I missed this. I'm in Jackson now doing laundry and procrastinating.
I found good dispersed camping about 20 miles south of here on FS 30530, long deep canyon with a river, good views and huge campsite areas. Really sweet. If i dont find another for tonight then I'll be there later!
 

Sleam

Explorer
Wyoming

Photos on youtube for you if you prefer images to words...https://youtu.be/ElwiPTwcq-M

SARATOGA: It’s perfect, for the first time on the trip I truly relax.

The free BLM campground was so flooded that I took off my boots and waded through the river with the dogs, batting away the mosquitos, just because we could. Then I got back in the van, loaded up one two three critters and headed back to the local campground on the lake. For only $7 per night it was well worth it, spacious and open with so many different kinds of bird and waterfowl that I sat at night with a cuppa tea happily watching all the activity.

Town itself has two branches of the North Platte River, high with snowmelt, running and flooding through the parks and town of 1692 population and a through fare of visitors and truckers on this small highway. The Hobo Hot Springs made my day; tiled swimming pool sized hot tub that overflows into the river, shaded by cottonwoods, cleaned by the town, open and airy with hot showers and all this for free? Yes, perfect, especially since I followed this with a visit to the local microbrewery and chatted to Tammy and Jasmine. An entertaining few hours listening to their stories brought a smile to my face.

Saratoga is definitely one of those hidden gems.

ATLANTIC CITY: I’d heard of it but I couldn’t remember where or why so I decided that was next on the list. Another day’s drive of about 150 miles brought us out on high range BLM land near the Wild River Mountains. The gravel road took us past a couple of campgrounds but they were busy and crowded. Not my style at all. Into town we drove, just to see the small mining town of 57 that has been a booming gold mining town that came and went a few times over time. There is a dark and crowded tavern, which tempted me, but first I needed to find a campsite for the night. Dispersed camping on BLM was the plan. I stopped out of town a few times, walking around, but didn’t feel safe in the trees and steep valleys. I took the loop road to the northeast and came out on open rangeland I pulled off and parked up, letting the critters out to explore. We were so high and exposed that the wind did quite a number on my hair, but crazy works for me…

JACKSON HOLE: On the way to Jackson Hole we pulled off Hwy 28 and onto FS 30530 and followed the gravel road a mile or so back past other campers and found a place off to the side in a meadow. Perfect. Again though, with trees near by, little Stevie wants to run and hide in the forest, which makes me nervous. I can’t see what’s out there, what’s watching us. On open rangeland I’m most relaxed. The steep valley made the campsite a tad claustrophobic for me and there was more traffic than I’d like but we still got to relax, make a fire, walk all three critters and sleep well.

I’m happy to be in a van, everywhere I look and everything I read warns of Bear activity. Be Bear Aware! Yikes. Not my happy place. I carry a bum-bag as we call them in England, one with the Spot GPS tracker, a knife, the bear spray, camera, and water. That is my standard walking gear nowadays.
Tall trees, small meadows, and flooding rivers, that’s Wyoming. I love it.
GRAND TETONS: A back route into the park took us past Rendezvous Park on Snake River so I of course pulled over and let the dogs out, but not Stevie. I’d done laundry in town, grabbed a coffee, and now felt suitably relaxed enough to stop and walk the pups. The cloud cover was so low that the Tetons hid out of sight completely. The Wilson-Moose road appealed for the name and that is had signs all over saying ‘extremely narrow and winding road’. It wasn’t that bad! Nothing compared to most places I’ve driven. Anyway, it’s a great little road through the valley at the base of the Tetons, still hidden the buggers. No big game to be seen just birds and squirrels but hey, that’s okay by me! The windows were open, the temperature just perfect, and there we were driving through the Grand Teton National Park in a van with no time limits or deadlines. Life is good.
Jenny Lake was stunning, deep, wide, dramatic, and fed by waterfalls and glaciers. Yep, if it weren’t for all the other pesky tourists taking photos like me, I’d have stayed! Oh, but for the fact that dogs are only allowed in parking lots, vehicles, and turnouts. No walking the pups here. I had a plan though, to have lunch on the east side in the Bridger-Teton National Forest.
Yep, if you head back south on 191 towards Jackson, you’ll see a sign for Two Ocean Lake and that gravel road takes you up and back into the forest. Dogs free. Sandwich. Cat free. Cuppa tea. Breaktime!

Snake River Brewery in Jackson called my name and there we headed once all the critters were worn out. Outside the brewpub were signs declaring no dogs allowed. That put me off but since it was still a cool wet day the critters were fine in the van for an hour or so. The brewery was established in 1993 and obviously is doing great! Two stories of a warehouse size building, the bar itself had enough space for over twenty of us I’d guess plus tables and restaurant business filled to the brim. It was loud, vibrant, and packed completely. Yep, a good Sunday afternoon beer sounded perfect to me. The Rolling Thunder German style lager was just right.

Frank on my left swapped stories with me the whole time. Frank was about my height and build, in his mid fifties with bright blue eyes. He’s been in the area since 1979 and raises sled dogs. He’s famous for it apparently and has over 200 at his property, not that he sells them, but they are raised to work and when they no longer can, he keeps them at home in a doggy retirement community. Fascinating man. Time went fast and my notebook filled up with his suggestions for small towns and local hot springs in Montana and Idaho.

The GPS coordinates for the BLM campground near the river brought me out at some gated communities so that didn’t work. I backtracked up into the National Forest, looking for an empty dispersed campsite but suddenly came across Slide Lake and the Atherton Campground. The windows look out over the lake as the sun sets and I fall asleep before dark. As usual.

For only $12, I have a table, fire pit, potable water, bathrooms, and I’m ten feet from a lake. Sweet…and this is my office for the morning! Ducks, sunshine, chai, free critters, and an omelet to set me up for the day. Okay. I can do this. Stevie runs into the trees, I take a deep breath and then make chai. The sound of spoon on a tin of wet cat food brings him back inside.

YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK: If you like to be enclosed by tall lodge-pole pines on a highway full of RVs, trailers, and vans like mine, you’ll love it. I didn’t. I couldn’t wait to get out. It was a long wait. The road from Atherton Campground back to Hwy 191 is paved but slow, incredible views though as the clouds lifted. The main highway north was slow too, the bison crossed in front of us, the deer and antelope played in the meadows and then we hit Yellowstone and the trees began. For hours we drove through the mountains and forests towards Old Faithful and the Geysers. There are no views worth mentioning as the trees lined every mile northwest. The park had put in many a turnout but why bother, you couldn’t see anything?
Finally we got to the Old Faithful, and the parking lots were full, on a Monday in June, it was packed. I drove around and found somewhere, opened the windows, and took a wander. Old Faithful was to spout off again in half an hour so I felt I should stay. I stayed, not feeling the magic. I just wanted to get out of there. Not good…I took the damn photo and left as soon as I could. Choices, choices.

North of there was the turning to the west entrance or I could head further north to the hot springs and the north entrance into Gardiner. I got out. Within 30 miles I drove through wide-open valleys with lush meadows and rushing rivers, my kind of happy. West Yellowstone town was right there at the exit and as much as I wanted to get some shampoo and a six pack I drove through town knowing I can come back in the morning. Yep. Freedom from those bloody trees.

Hebden Lake is about 12,350 acres, wide and deep blue, with mallard ducks, and yes Grizzlies. There are signs everywhere for the grizzlies. I’m not impressed. So even though I’m on the edge of a lake, with incredible views, I’m inside and not by a campfire. Not tonight anyway. We all hung outside, the critters walking and sniffing but as the evening falls we head inside the van for safety and warmth. Two others are camped here, both in vehicles on long road trips so we chat a while before hiding out for the night. Time to read maps and play with my routes and plans for the next week. Montana it is.
 

EMrider

Explorer
A very enjoyable trip report, thanks.

Traveling with pets makes traveling with kids look easy.

I have three of each.

Safe travels.

R
 

parkkitchings

Adventurer
YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK: If you like to be enclosed by tall lodge-pole pines on a highway full of RVs, trailers, and vans like mine, you’ll love it. I didn’t. I couldn’t wait to get out. It was a long wait. The road from Atherton Campground back to Hwy 191 is paved but slow, incredible views though as the clouds lifted. The main highway north was slow too, the bison crossed in front of us, the deer and antelope played in the meadows and then we hit Yellowstone and the trees began. For hours we drove through the mountains and forests towards Old Faithful and the Geysers. There are no views worth mentioning as the trees lined every mile northwest. The park had put in many a turnout but why bother, you couldn’t see anything?
Finally we got to the Old Faithful, and the parking lots were full, on a Monday in June, it was packed. I drove around and found somewhere, opened the windows, and took a wander. Old Faithful was to spout off again in half an hour so I felt I should stay. I stayed, not feeling the magic. I just wanted to get out of there. Not good…I took the damn photo and left as soon as I could. Choices, choices.
.

I know where you're coming from on your recent experience in Yellowstone. I've been going to Yellowstone for many years and know now to never.....never, go during the summer months. It's a shame how it is overrun with tourists and traffic. All of our major National Parks have become way too popular for their own good. It's almost to the point where some kind of quota/reservation system should be put into effect. I now will only go in late April, early May, or in my favorite month, October. The hordes have diminished and the wildlife viewing can be spectacular.
 

Sleam

Explorer
Montana on my mind

Hebgen Lake is just ten miles outside of West Yellowstone in the Gallatin National Forest and covers 12,350 acres. It’s full of heron, cranes, ducks and fishermen on lightweight inflatable pontoons. Highway 20 heads west and just before you hit the KOA campground you need to watch out for the local Fire Dept. on the right and turn up that dirt road. There is no sign or street number but it will lead you to two campgrounds about another ten miles in. The first campground costs and has a host, oh, and water. The second campground is slightly further in to the forest and is free, primitive, and on a first come basis. I was the second there. It’s beautiful. I can breathe again after the claustrophobic Yellowstone National Park.

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The campground offers six sites, all with table, fire pit and a level place to call home. The vault toilets are at the turn around and really clean. It was perfect there, the water right outside the van just beyond the tree line. The wildlife floated by. The critters ran free and safe. That first night was cold and wet though, we stayed inside the van and once again I was incredibly happy that I bought Vera for this trip. She’s made life easy on us all.

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Back into town, a wondrously tourist focused town outside the park, with everything (almost) named after either moose or grizzlies. Yep, that kind of town. The people in the stores and bakery were super friendly and I spent some time chatting to Mary in the market about the lake and working in town. Short, stocky, and with an open soft face, she grew up there and loved meeting all the visitors. Good for her, it helps when traveling to feel welcome, that’s for sure. Ernie’s bakery up the road had freshly made croissants, and Ernie originally came from France, so yes, the croissant were the best they could be, so that’s where I went in the mornings. Free Internet to send out the articles, reply to email and post a video slideshow. Pretty good starts to my days on the lake.

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We had a social night at Cherry Creek campground. One night was just myself and the mystery tenter who didn’t appear till after I’d gone to bed. The next night the place was packed. All sites taken and more people driving in and back out again. Next to me were two young women from New Hampshire. Elizabeth was a thirty-year-old red head with high energy who invited herself to sit at my campfire.
“I’ve talked to no one by Victoria for a week!” and she stood there sipping a can of PBR, restless and moving constantly, she found more wood for the fire.
Victoria joined us, a wholesome blond, clean and conservative who described herself as high maintenance. Her first camping trip apparently and she’d come along because they’d both quit working for an oil company and needed an adventure. She talked of God, of Heaven, and the “super conservative Christian school”, and then offered me a hit of weed.

A.J, the tenter, was about 5’8, thick of body, an outdoorsman with thick red beard and in his early thirties. “Maybe it’s because I’m a dude” was his phrase often used. A couple in a 1980s motorhome and Butter, their corgi, also joined us. (Stevie was hidden in the van during social hour.) More couples chatted briefly, coming and going. Easy company for the most part and I realized I’d been alone for much of the last two weeks but hadn’t noticed!

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On Hwy 287 North towards Helena, MT, and along the Madison River the weather dropped back to cold, damp, and with snow in the mountains just above us. The trees dripped and the windshield wipers worked luckily, I’d not tested them beforehand. Over the pass and alongside Quake Lake into a wide lush green valley, and we stop at the riverside for a snack and walk. The rain though sends us all back into the van shortly.

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Past Helena, I find the turn off for NF 695, looking for the next free campground in the Beaverhead Deerlodge Forest. Construction stops us, and Janet, the flagger explains that they’ve widened, repacked, and are grading the road for the next six miles into the forest. Finally I’m allowed to go and following the lead truck, I drive slowly uphill. The truck pulls over and waves me on. I’ve not been paying attention to distances but when the road steepens incredibly and winds up into a wet narrow gorge, I figure I’ve missed the campground. I find a turn out and slowly do a three point turn and then pull off to the side and stop. Doors open, critters out, time for a snack and cuppa tea. There are no views; it’s too narrow and thick with pine and ponderosas. After half an hour of relaxing, stretching out the kinks, and watching the pets explore, we head back down to construction zone and sure enough the campground is in the middle of it. Nope, we’re not staying there. So what’s next? Looking at the map, it’s only another 100 miles to Seeley Lake, one of the places recommended to me. Okay, so back to Highways 141 through the Avon Valley, a quick trip along Hwy 200, and finally north on 83 at Clearwater Junction and the Blackfoot River.



LAKE INEZ

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No signs from the Lolo National Forest show me the way, but I’d watched the odometer and noticed when we were at about the right distance from Seeley lake town. The dirt road to the left took us down along the lakeside and I pulled over, not sure what to expect. I left Stevie inside and took the dogs further down the road for a scout out. We found a perfect dispersed campsite just half a mile down so we claimed it with the van as soon as I could. Good timing as another van trundled past just as we set up camp!



The rain lingered but it was still beautiful. The table made a good kitchen with a view and the short path to the lake brought us out on a smaller lake with snow-capped mountains towering above us. The clouds descended and the rain came back. The van called and I took my mug of wine inside, following the dogs and Stevie to the bed. The next was ideal however, clear blue water, clouds and sunshine vying for attention. Yep.



FLATHEAD LAKE

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Am I in Wales? The wind whips around me, and I zip up the rain jacket, standing next to this incredibly huge grey lake, the waves slapping against the beach and scaring poor sensitive Harold. Rosie takes it in stride and wants to swim as usual. We walk along the waters edge here in Bigfork and take it all in. Stevie is leashed in the van so he can’t jump out when we get back. He’s so comfortable traveling now that whenever he sees me grab the dog leashes, he jumps down from his shelf, wanting to come with us. There is a brewery looking over the lake and since it’s noon, I figure why not! Yep, dogs in van, smartphone in hand, I have a couple of lagers and watch the storm outside.

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HUNGRY HORSE RESERVOIR



The road in is well marked, leading us to the dam and the lake’s 50 plus mile length. The road is NF 895, and well maintained, so much so that motorhomes and trailers head in the same direction. I know that beyond the first four campgrounds that are in the first ten miles, I’ll find a primitive campground perfect some 24 miles in. Only four sites, no water, and limited access. Perfect. The weather is still stormy but after a couple of beers, I’m okay with that. The trees drip moss, and the undergrowth is thick and healthy.
Then we turn south and suddenly the lake opens up before me. Stunning. Deep, wide, a dark grey, and high barren alpine mountains covered in snow, yep, that’s where we spending the night.

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Our campsite faces the Flathead Range and the Great Bear Wilderness area with Elk Mtn at 7389 ft., Mt Cameahwait at 7879, and Felix Peak at 7996, all snow packed.



I pull out the union suit and put on the Sorrel boots for warmth as we all explore. It feels safe so I let Stevie walk with us. He’s pretty focused on us these days and follows along with the dogs, going where they go, trying to keep up. Then if he loses sight of me, he meows until I whistle and then he pops back into range. Good fella. I sit by the lake with a mug of wine and suck it all in. Beautiful. There is so much out there that I feel pressed to keep moving, I’m having a hard time sitting still in any one place. This then is a trial run, a testing ground, and yes, I’ll have to come back with more time and no deadlines.



I had a rough night, couldn’t sleep, restless legs, twitching, and then the hail and snow started. All four of us on the bed cuddled for warmth. I had a moments panic at the thought of driving out of here on snowy roads but then let it go, there was nothing to be done. The snow didn’t stick anyway. It is June, and here I am in long johns and layers…I like it.




GLACIER NATIONAL PARK



Now this is my kind of park, laid back, little used, not the crowded claustrophobia of Yellowstone. The entrance to the North Fork area is a small welcoming log home down a two-lane dirt road. The ranger is friendly and even gives the pups a treat each. Nothing for Stevie, she wasn’t expecting that. We chat for a moment about the roads in to this side of the park and she tells me that they’re both fine, either the 6 miles to Bowman Lake or the 15 miles to Kintla Lake. She recommends Bowman though. “The ranger there likes dogs, the other one is more protective of his station. I’d take them to Bowman, it’ll be easier on you all.”



Past Pinebridge, a small town of thirty people with an incredible bakery, the road narrows to one lane, winding back and forth up into dense forests, in and out of trees with hints of the Glacier Mountains ahead. The road is better than mine at home which is funny as all the write ups about this lake and area had ************** about the horrible rough road, to the point where I’d almost not come thinking I needed the 4Runner or something. Nope, any old car can do it, just drive slowly around the potholes and up the switchbacks. No biggy.



BOWMAN LAKE



A high glacier fed lake, almost ten miles long and yet narrow, is so clear and pristine, it took away my need to do, to move, to photograph or to write. I just sat on the water’s edge with two dogs on leashes and stared. For a long time, we just sat there. The lakes, the campgrounds, the hiking trails all were in a hushed awe of this lake. Phenomenal.

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I took photos, I can’t describe it, the peaceful beauty, and knowing that one day it will dry up and be gone. I’m lucky to see this. To share this. Of 150 glaciers noted in 1916 when the park system came about, there are now only twenty-five glaciers left, and those are shrinking. The mountains to the north of us were all ranged from Square Peak at 8777 ft. to Rainbow Peak at 9891 and had snowcaps but not nearly as much as I’d expected.

Young elk wander through the campgrounds and stop at my table as I read some ten feet away. We look each other, the soft fur on the antlers impresses me, they aren’t and move along to the next visitors. Dogs and cat luckily are inside the van with doors shut. You see, I’m made the mistake of letting the dogs off leash while I opened up the van to put them back inside and Rosie ran. Into the road, caught a squirrel, killed it with one quick bite, and left the proof of hunting nature in the middle of that damn road! I threw the dogs inside, grabbed the shovel and picked up the body and hid it in the trees… It’s not a good place for my critters, all on leashes, especially Stevie as the signs warn of mountain lions lurking in the area, being “active”.

“You might lose a pet if unattended or leashed out of your sight.”

Oh ****, that’s about as real a threat as I can deal with. All three pets are on lock down. I won’t stay here long, just enough to stare at the lake and absorb as much of this peace and beauty as possible.



We head back down to Pinebridge the next day and buy a pastry, a Brie and turkey fresh from the oven pastry. Delicious. Driving down the North Fork road towards Columbia Falls takes us an hour and a half, what with slow going rough roads, elk and deer sightings, checking out the Flathead River, more stops to pee and stretch, and to unleash the hounds. So many places to camp in the Flathead Forest, if (when) I come back to Glacier National Park, we’ll set up camp out here and drive it to sight see. The road widens and speeds up as we get closer to town and then hitting the main highway west, we aim for Libby, Montana, our last night in the state.



LIBBY



I miss the turn off; I’d been looking at the sign for a local brewery, tempted but not enough to detour. It’s been a long day and I want to stop and settle for the night. Driving up a narrow canyon on an empty highway towards Canada, I pull over at the Ranger’s station. Yep, wrong way. I’m on Hwy 37 and not 567. Tough, I’m not going back. We pull off at the first national forest road, drop down another dirt road and end up on the riverside in an obviously used dispersed campsite. That’s good enough for me. I step out and take a breath, look around, yep, feels safe. Unleash the hounds. Wake the hounds.

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The Kootenai River flows shallow and clear. The railway tracks are surprisingly busy with freight trains heading to Canada. I wave to the drivers and one blows the horn back. I salute with my mug of tea. The critters play and explore. I make dinner as the clouds build and rain drizzles once again. Montana has been damp and beautiful.



Leaving in the morning is a relaxed affair, but for Stevie running into the trees when a train came by and he wasn’t near the van. I lost sight of him for a while but when I walked into the trees calling him, he called back. We found each other, little bugger.

I drove out of the campsite, relaxed and ready for another good day. I drove and drove, finding us up high on a dirt gravel single lane road heading east. The wrong way in other words. I kept going and we came out on Hwy 2 about thirty miles east of Libby, and it had taken us an hour to get there. My day was not starting out so smoothly after all. It went downhill from there. Three campgrounds later, some found, some not, we settled in at Garfield Bay in Idaho. Tired now. But we’re in Idaho! Time to put the kettle on. Oh, and find Stevie again…
 

mtnbike28

Expedition Leader
wow! I could never imagine one of my cats camping - I would never see them again! Great report! Thanks for sharing....
 

Sleam

Explorer
Right? Well I worry each day but since he's a farm cat anyway, it's not much more risky than at home. He saw a skunk this morning and luckily came back to me to be picked up... we're at NWOR now and hanging out in the van watching everyone arrive. Glad to be here. It took three weeks and 2661 miles from NM... somehow!
 

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