All Creatures, Great and Small

My random, recent critter sightings include an eagle -- one of many that I've seen here (http://fieldguide.mt.gov/detail_ABNKC10010.aspx) -- but this is one has redness around and behind its beak. That tells me that it's just been feeding. The picture is a little grainy, shot from far away and cropped. Click on it to get a bit more detail.

On another day, at 7,200 feet and a walk from the "facilities" (newish outhouse, at Gordon Reese Cabin), I see the tiniest spider making its way across packed snow! What could it find to eat out here? We call it a snow spider -- there probably is such a thing. Look at all the other amazing snow insects at http://www.pbase.com/crocodile/snow_creatures&page=all.

The silhouette of a red-tailed hawk (http://fieldguide.mt.gov/detail_ABNKC19110.aspx) also catches my eye, on a valley drive.  "Pull over, Alex," I yell.  I shoot right into the setting sun, and I'm not sure what I've got.  But when I get home, I like the angle of the hawk's wings against clouds and above nearby mountains.

Okay, this is a "snowman" interpretation of a snowy owl -- the arctic bird that's much in the news in Montana and even in parts of the Midwest. My friend Mel Holloway shot this in Polson, MT (http://missoulian.com/lifestyles/territory/snowy-owls-parliament-is-in-session-in-polson-neighborhood/article_7b6cb81c-43b3-11e1-b236-0019bb2963f4.html). He's seen the real thing there. I have not. Not yet.

I see these huskies in the parking lot of the Good Food Store in Missoula (http://www.goodfoodstore.com/). As I approach to take a picture, the owner of the truck -- sitting in warm winter sun on the store's veranda -- shouts, "Don't get too close!" The dogs bark, loudly. So I don't. But I do know that there's a "Dog Derby" in mountains above Darby, MT (http://www.bitterrootmushers.org/), the next day, so I figure he's the musher and they're the mushees, resting up for the next day's event.

Vinny!  What can I say about this über intelligent and sensitive Jack Russell terrier (http://www.therealjackrussell.com/index.php) owned by Hamilton's Mary Barton and Kelsey Milner? He's just so darn sweet!!! The opposite of big burly mountain dogs that I expect to find in the Bitterroot.




 

A Tale of Two Cabins

I've been lucky enough to vacation recently in two very different cabins on federal land, for free -- "our tax dollars at work!" -- unless you count the long hours of planning, shopping, traveling and laboring as a volunteer.  First and foremost is the rustic, old family cabin up on tiny Gale Island -- in Lake Superior's cluster of islands now called Isle Royale National Park (http://www.nps.gov/isro/index.htm).

A kerosene lamp's mantle glows at the Gale Island cabin window, looking out on Lake Superior.

The cabin was built on an island purchased in the '30s by the Gale family, my husband's cousins, long before there was an Isle Royale park. When a movement grew to make a national park of the 50-mile stretch of islands -- large and small -- many island-owning families welcomed it.  Shabby commercial structures had begun lining beaches and rocky shores; the park was a chance to clean that up and bring in visitors respectful of moose, fox, otters, wolves, eagles, loons and many other species of animal and plant.

An old photo shows the clog of shanties on Isle Royale, before it gained National Park status.

Gales, meanwhile, had a "life lease" with the park that allowed the family to take turns summering in the cabin many times over the decades. When the last lessee -- Alex's uncle Phil Gale -- died a few years ago, the cabin had an uncertain future.  We all continued to visit and work on preserving it.  We'd also revel in the peace and quiet, in the occasional storm (Gale Island being aptly named), in picking wild blueberries and thimbleberries, in hiking and canoeing and in watching for spectacular colors at sunrise and sunset across one of Lake Superior's key shipping channels. Could all that be coming to an end, we wondered?!

Sunrise on Lake Superior, as viewed from just outside the Gale Island cabin, Sept. 2010.

But first, here's how we'd get to the cabin.  Every summer from the early '90s through 2010, we'd pack our big cooler and many cloth grocery bags with tomatoes and herbs from our small city garden and with many other farmers' market vegetables and fruits, plus cheeses, pastas, sauces and wine -- enough food for two weeks. Then we'd drive north 12 hours from St. Louis to Houghton, MI; we'd take a ferry or seaplane the next day; and, finally, we'd connect with a motorboat to get to our little piece of conifer-covered rock.

Our ferry -- the Ranger III -- takes six hours to cross Superior from Houghton, MI, and usually is packed full of folks planning to hike, camp, kayak or stay in the park lodge for a rustic vacation.

A seaplane is much quicker from Houghton -- 45 minutes -- but much more expensive than the ferry and more weather-dependent.

A motorboat is the last conveyance, taking 10 minutes or so to get to Gale Island.

We and others would haul up propane for cooking on Gale Island's kitchen stove or outdoor grill. We'd pump lake water at the kitchen sink and filter it for drinking and cooking or heat it in kettles over the main room's fireplace for washing dishes, and ourselves (in a tiny bathhouse connected to the tool shed).

The Gale cabin's massive fireplace, circa 1930s.

And we'd read and read and read -- by firelight, enhanced with the soft glow of oil lamps...

Reading at the Gale cabin picture window.

...or on a cool, sunny screened-in front porch.

A reading and eating spot on the front porch.

Now, things are different. For awhile, we thought we'd lost access to Gale Island, as National Park Service officials struggled to define its use for life-lessees and their families. At one point, the NPS issued one- and two-year volunteer agreements to original family members (not necessarily to us cousins). "It is still unclear what the long term future holds for original families who have been in cabins for many generations," says a posting by the group, "Isle Royale Families and Friends Association" (http://www.isleroyalefamilies.org/index.htm). Cousins Chris, Tom, Steve and Don Gale -- the four sons of Phil -- have already been back to volunteer. Alex and I want to return, perhaps in 2013, and we're thinking of service projects for the cabin or park, or both?

Our beloved Gale Island cabin, circa 1930.

But we've wanted something to fill in until then.

We found it in snowy Montana! If you've followed this blog, you'll know that Alex has old friends in the town of Hamilton -- where he and his parents spent summers in the '50s. We vacationed here last June. We even looked at houses in town on that visit. Then, we surprised ourselves in September by buying a little bungalow when the price dropped dramatically. But would we like it in the winter?  Oh, yes we would! The cross-country skiing is superb, especially at the Continental Divide south of Hamilton, where the Bitterroot, Beaverhead Deerlodge and Salmon Challis national forests converge.

A trail called Broadway has new tracks set weekly by volunteers with the Bitterroot Cross-Country Ski Club (http://www.bitterrootxcskiclub.net/); it's part of a 17-mile system of trails at Chief Joseph Pass, in the confluence of three national forests south of Hamilton.

And best of all, our new membership in the cross-country ski club earned us a night in a 12-year-old cabin -- also a warming hut for daytime skiers -- on the Divide. We stayed there last week and have been back several times for daytime skiing!

Gordon Reese Cabin, south of Hamilton, MT. (photo by Bitterroot Cross Country Ski Club)

Unlike the remote Gale cabin, you get to Gordon Reese by driving 40 miles south, up to 7,200 feet, with a duffle full of sleeping gear and backpacks full of water and food for dinner and breakfast the next morning. Oh, and there's the toboggan that we borrowed from a good friend.

With a bungee cord attached to his belt as well as to a toboggan's rope, Alex skis-in our supplies for the night.

Once ensconced in the cabin, we relax on one of a series of cabin benches before heading out to ski again.

View of the lounge and game room, from a cabin table.

And, as overnight hosts, we keep the fire going and meet and greet fellow skiers, from a 4-year-old named Seamus to a former Sun Valley ski instructor, 85-year-old Pat Bartholomew.

Skier Pat Bartholomew.

By about 5 p.m., other skiers disappear. The light fades. No electricity? No problem. There's a bit of solar energy that we use, along with a propane stove, to make dinner.  But we're comfortable mostly with the glow of a good fire.

Notice wet clothes hanging behind the stove to dry.

The night is magical, with the moon casting shadows on pristine stretches of snow. And the sunrise is even better. Ours is not quite as colorful as sunrises on Gale Island. And the low temperature is a frigid 8 degrees; we're usually at Gale over Labor Day, in the warmth of early September. But it's equally warm inside Gordon Reese, where the stove cranks out an amazing amount of heat, and we dine happily on pancakes topped with Montana huckleberry jam.

Sunrise at Gordon Reese Cabin, Feb. 2012 (in the distance, the Pioneer Mountains).

Then, we wash dishes, pack and clean for the next hosts, who are set to arrive shortly after noon. Four  women day skiers shuffle in before then. We welcome them to the cabin and remember, later, that a proposal for the Gale Cabin is to open it up to Isle Royale visitors at certain times of day. Indeed, there's a lot of island history in that cabin. We'd be hosts all over again! Some 1,400 miles away and not many cabin differences, after all.

Shopping the Valley

We suddenly need a shot of color to brighten our white-on-dark winter days. So we go shopping.

We should be hitting Costco and Target and the Good Food Store in Missoula as well as grabbing a great meal there. But we decide to wait. We're trying to keep most of our shopping confined to the small mom-and-pop stores that still flourish in the Hamilton area. They are, after all, among the citizenry who kept a Wal-Mart from locating in the valley, or so the story goes.

And so, we visit one of a series of rooms in a Hamilton antiques shop called the Mall on Bedford. There we see a pair of reproduction, mid-century-modern, red-leather chairs. They have nothing at all to do with our current vintage-Craftsman decor. Leather is the only common denominator with such Arts and Crafts style in the West. And still, I fall in love! Could it be the red, in context with a lack of color outside? Am I thinking that with the right pillow, they'd be great bedroom/guestroom additions?  Or would I like to see both of them in Alex's office, as he sits and plays music with a friend?

The color red and the shape of this little chair warms my heart.

We don't buy the chairs, not yet. They're a bit pricey and not old. I talk with a lovely woman named Donna who operates the niche where these chairs sit. Her daughter now lives in my hometown of Louisville, Ky., and loves it. Donna says that she also used to live near New Orleans, Alex's oldest haunt. We have other things in common, except a reduction in price for the chairs. So we go to Murdoch's.

This is not for buying furniture or anything else house-related. We go to Murdoch's Ranch & Home Supply (http://www.murdochs.com/hamilton/storeinfo) for free live entertainment!  Alex had stopped in once before, thinking it was a hardware store. Well, if you want hardware for your horse...

Murdoch's horseshoe bin.

Or, you hanker for some beautifully colored rope...

Each one, 50 feet of "polyblend"...

Or, some brightly hued "field scoops"...

Murdoch's does merchandise its colors very well!

Or a toy of a different color for the dog (that's my voice in the background of this video, as I try to film via the iPhone -- so accomplished!)

Or, of course, a cowboy hat or two and other Western wear...

Yee haw!

A poster on the Murdoch's bulletin board describes a perfectly fitting event -- a first-annual fundraiser for improving rodeo facilities at the Ravalli County Fairgrounds in Hamilton...

(rc.mt.gov/content/fair/documents/cowboyball.pdf)

And it's near the checkout (we buy only a set of bungee cords for securing skis to our old car's new roof rack, a pair of Bogs brand mud/gardening clogs for me -- http://www.bogsfootwear.com/shop/index.html, fleece-lined slippers for Alex) when we spot an item that fits with a bumper sticker we've seen in the Murdoch's parking lot...

For the hunter on your gift list.

The parking-lot bumper sticker reads P.E.T.A.  And, at first I say, "Oh gawd, should we park somewhere else?" That is, until we get a little closer and see that it stands for "People Eating Tasty Animals." Too funny. And wholly Montanan. I look online and find a very basic Web site explaining that this particular P.E.T.A. organization is "a resource for those who enjoy eating meat, wearing fur and leather, hunting, and the fruits of scientific research (and more!)."

When we finally get back to our Hamilton home, one more colorful item meets us in the mail. It's a tasty one, waiting to be brought to life next spring...

My mail-order seeds often come from the wonderful Baker Creek -- http://rareseeds.com/.

Quiet...

...or, "The Joy of Quiet," as a New York Times opinion piece recently put it (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/01/opinion/sunday/the-joy-of-quiet.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=quiet&st=cse).

We have it, in spades. Shhhhh.

It's just outside our windows today. An unusually heavy snow is falling on Hamilton, Mt.  There is a "Winter Storm Warning" for the Bitterroot Valley --"today through Thursday afternoon...an additional 8 to 12 inches are possible...locally up to 14 inches." We'd planned to drive to Missoula and scrapped that plan pretty quickly when the reality of road conditions settled in.

A ceiling lamp in hour house reflects in the window as I shoot north; the filmy circle actually is a Ziplock bag, cut open at the end to form a protective circle around my camera (no special effects intended).

We step outside as we consider whether to walk or to drive. We stand still. After the snowplow passes by, we hear not a sound. We look north again and see more black-and-white gorgeousness, shot in color, of course, but turned monochromatic by snow and bark.

Snow-shrouded trees, just north of us.

Then we look west. More trees, tons more snow and this is just noon time. It keeps falling all day...

Baker Street, plowed but covered over again with snow.

We despoil the quiet by choosing to get into our car to look for more pictures. The silence -- except for crunch of snow tires on packed streets -- is beautiful.

A shot through the front windshield.

A stop for a latte is another time to reflect.  Cafés may be steamy and bustling in cold weather, but I enjoy screening all of that out to feel the heat of the drink and to stare quietly into the foam.

Coffee with a heart.

But a final decision needs to be made. What to do next. And the choice is clear. It's home. That's the place to be on a day such as this. There are new library books, magazines, a new sofa, a fresh pile of firewood, a full fridge and pantry. And, have I mentioned? No TV!!

Firewood, safe underneath the car port, by our garage.

Quiet, only interrupted by a snap-crackling fire.

We rekindle a fire from morning coals. It takes time to warm up. So do we. In the end, we sit quietly there, toes finally thawed, books opened. But all we do is look out at branches that are heavy with wet, white, crystalline stuff. The beauty of the scene overwhelms. It needs no words.

Ansel Adams AND Frank Lloyd Wright?!

Images of impossible beauty are swirling around in my head.

Many are colored in black and white. They are are, in fact, Ansel Adams' extreme black-and-white exposures of Yosemite and other Western landscapes. Twice, I've seen the current 138-piece exhibit of Adams' work at the Missoula Art Museum (http://www.missoulaartmuseum.org/index.php/ID/57d0e4036786886013093f0a535cd473/fuseaction/experience.detail.htm). My second visit includes a lovely little lecture from an art historian. And a crowd of more than 50 people turns out on an overcast afternoon to hear her say that Adams did have critics of his darkroom techniques.

Portrait of Ansel Adams, which first appeared in the 1950 Yosemite Field School yearbook. Photo by J. Malcolm Greany (print is in public domain, from the Wikimedia projects).

All I can say at this point is, Wow! And, critics schmitics! Adams is a man who pioneered the more-than-artful documentation of wild lands in this country. He helped not only put national parks and wilderness on the map but he also worked to get photography recognized as a true art form.  And last but certainly not least, his eye for composition, texture and range of tones is impeccable and should, in my opinion, be honored by anyone with even the slightest interest in photography. (http://www.missoulaartmuseum.org/index.php/ID/57d0e4036786886013093f0a535cd473/fuseaction/experience.detail.htm). Harrumph! So what if he did a darkroom burn-out of one of those mountain monograms -- the letters "LP" installed on a hill above Lone Pine, California, in his 1944 print "Winter Sunrise, Sierra Nevada." One of these prints is in the Missoula exhibit (I try but I can't find traces of the "LP") and another is on the Christie's auction Web site http://www.christies.com/LotFinder/lot_details.aspx?intObjectID=1978689).

Art historian and crowd at MAM's Ansel Adams exhibit.

Says our historian, simple choices of composition are in themselves ways to manipulate images, not to mention all of the "enhancing," retouching and effects-adjusting techniques that now are available in the digital-camera/computer age. I find that I am delving into "edit" on my computer to straighten  images more often than not, as if I had been shooting on a rolling sea (?). And I occasionally crop and/or slightly adjust contrast or exposure. I do no color enhancing or retouching. I find that I can see those edits in others' photos from a mile away.


Just fyi, and like every amateur photographer, I also miss lots of good pictures. The girl, below, is blowing big pink bubble-gum bubbles as she looks away from Ansel Adams and down into the more-interesting (?) lobby of the museum. I shoot a dozen images BUT miss the irreverent orbs of goo.

Girl with bubble-gum, at the Ansel Adams showing.

The Missoula exhibit runs through April 15. There are no Montana photos here, by the way. Instead, the connection is an Ovando, Mt., couple -- he, retired as former Dell Computer chief financial officer, she, a photography buff. They own this collection of Adams photos and are sharing it with others. (A story on the couple is found at http://missoulian.com/entertainment/arts-and-theatre/article_cd6fbc04-f093-11e0-a433-001cc4c03286.html).

*****************

Beautiful photographic images aren't the only things occupying me these days. Beautiful architectural ones --  from books and documentaries as well as from local houses and other buildings -- have become a bit of an obsession.

Just down the block from us in Hamilton, Mt., is a purported Frank Lloyd Wright house. Its prairie-style lines of hipped roof and board-and-batten horizontal siding speak of the Wright aesthetic. Currently, the house is unoccupied and for sale.

Prairie-style house on South 3rd Street, Hamilton, Mt.

Wright certainly was in the area during the early part of the 20th Century. A quarterly issue of the Frank Lloyd Wright Association's newsletter includes a long chapter on "Wright in the Bitter Root Valley of Montana."   He designed many fascinating projects.  Wright had a Midwest friend who was one of the promoters of orchard development in the Bitterroot Valley around 1910, including the Bitter Root Irrigation Company canal (also referred to as The Big Ditch). The canal was to furnish water from Lake Como north to a new town to be called Bitter Root, east of Hamilton. Wright was employed to lay out the town and plan buildings for this mountain valley, with profitable new orchards surrounding it. His most beautiful extremely horizontal building, the Bitter Root Inn, later burned down. It's reported than an apple blight plus an irrigation-company bankruptcy helped kill the orchard development.  Wright also got the job of designing bungalows for another model town south of Hamilton, around gorgeous Lake Como. It was linked to the so-called Apple Boom as well as to Midwest investors hoping also to escape from steamy Chicago summers. That, too, fizzled, although at least one prairie-style cabin remains.

I decide to tour our neighboring prairie-style house with a favorite local real-estate expert, and we see rooms full of beamed ceilings, magnificent woodwork, fireplaces and built-ins. I snap a few pictures.

Built-ins and dining room of our neighboring Wright-style house.

I go to the Ravalli County Museum at the Old Court House to confirm the Wright provenance and find that the Montana Historical and Architectural Inventory named the architect of record for this 1914 structure as "Frank Lloyd Wright School." Could that mean a design by Wright's many draftsmen and women in his Chicago studio? Or, is it a reference to Wright as designer, or to his style of design?

I look further. There are abundant newspaper stories naming Wright as the architect. And the Montana Historical and Architectural Inventory calls it a "house of primary historical significance" for "being an example of a style unique to the famous American architect." The house has "excellent integrity," it continues. As the only prairie-style building in Hamilton, it is, therefore, eligible for registration on the National Register of Historic Places, says the Inventory. "Local history contends that Wright actually designed this residence," it says. "However, veracity has never been completely confirmed. Prairie-style features are seen in the floor plan and massing with overhanging roof maintaining simple horizontal lines while the plan actually has reliefs. This smooth roofline and generous overhang develop the horizontal repose of the building.  Wright's buildings typically had a stronger horizontal which may indicate some interpretation on the contractor's part."  Hmmmmm?


I, meantime, am as hooked on Wright as on Ansel Adams. I stream online via Netflix (I'm enjoying a lack of TV in our house) the Ken Burns/Lynn Novick documentary "Frank Lloyd Wright" (http://www.pbs.org/flw/filmmakers/index.html). I learn that he was quite a brilliant, difficult and controversial character. There's no mention of his early Montana visit in the film. I decide that I believe he was involved to some extent in our neighboring home but not the architect of record. I'd love to be proven wrong!

Shuffling Along the Continental Divide

Our first ski trip together -- up to cross-country grounds at Chief Joseph Pass, south of Hamilton, Mt., and near the Idaho border -- takes us to a gorgeous trail on the Continental Divide.

I have to admit that getting onto cross-country skis for the first time in 20 years is a bit daunting, especially at 17 degrees and 7,264 feet.

Me, shuffling along the Continental Divide Trail.

But whew! We get to the warming hut -- called the Gordon Reese Cabin and maintained by volunteers plus U.S. Forest Service crews -- just in time for our own packed lunch.

Kitchen at Gordon Reese. No cooked food for us. We snack on our own crackers, cheese, nuts and chocolate. After a morning on the trail, it's absolutely delicious!

The warming room and dining area couldn't be more welcoming. There's even a place by the stove to clothespin our wet socks and gloves.

Volunteer overnight "hosts" have left a good fire going us and for the rest of this day's round of skiers and snowshoers. (We get to host overnight at the end of Jan., as new members of the Bitterroot Cross Country Ski Club.)

Gordon Reese is a relatively new feature of this cross-country ski area, with 17 miles of groomed trails.

And we check out the back-porch view before heading home. For more information on this unusual spot, go to http://bitterrootxcskiclub.net/cabin-reservations.htm; to http://www.recreation.gov/camping/Gordon_Reese_Cabin/r/campgroundDetails.do?contractCode=NRSO&parkId=75219; and to http://www.flickr.com/photos/rebeccaellen/4357743930/in/photostream/.