Islandia

The Ranger III is our ticket to get to islands in northern Lake Superior...

...Then, we get into a tiny boat -- either at Rock Harbor where there's big water, or at smaller, safer Tobin Harbor, above -- and proceed to our cabin under clear skies and on sparkling water.

As it happens, this long-planned (since last Thanksgiving) trip gives us a lucky break from wildfire smoke in Western Montana. This old haunt is a family cabin in the chain of islands that's now Isle Royale National Park. We have our own cabin (this is a look out its picture window) for about a week...

Sunrises here can be pretty spectacular; sunsets, too.

The front porch is a gathering spot for wine and cheese, of an evening. This porch and the front of the cabin are built so high atop rock (circa the 1930s) that they have the feel of living in a tree house.

Cousin Peggy Gale recently added a beautiful piece of driftwood to the top of the cabin's front-porch door. 

Inside the cabin are Hudson's Bay blankets, vintage wicker furniture, lanterns with Aladdin-brand mantels, family photos and drawings. (My photo here slants; the cabin does not.)

I sit on the bed, after a nap, and gaze at the lake out of a gauzy old window.

The original stone fireplace keeps the main room cozy. We have several days of rain and need some dry heat.

   

Blueberries are found in patches around the island this time of year. We pick them and have buckwheat-blueberry pancakes most mornings. We bring a Zip lock full of berries home with us; don't tell the Park Service. Technically, they own the cabin and island now, since the last person on the '30s life lease died several years ago (the family signed the lease because it wanted the National Park to come in to protect the 50-mile-long main island and surrounding little ones). It's a year-by-year test now to see when/if we get kicked off. So, we are delighted to have this chance to come do a little work on the cabin -- including closing it up for winter -- and see it all, one last time?

Gardens of Earthly Delights

What could convey the beauty, passion and hard work of each of the five gardeners in last weekend's (Aug. 8) amazing Bitterroot Secret Garden Tour? (By the way, we sold out of tickets early, had 100-plus guests and raised $2,580 for the local Humane Association.) Here's a quick summary of the tour, starting with a key image from each garden...

 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

At Nansu Roddy's in-town Hamilton garden, above, a kind heart or two greets you near the gate. They are from her collection of heart-shaped Bitterroot River rocks and symbolize, to my mind, the "heart" that this librarian/gardener pours into her permaculture space.

From Nansu's tiny greenhouse spill out squash, pumpkins (and gourds?) -- cucurbits of all make and model searching for more room to vine.

A view from the curb shows Nansu's specially designed Rebar fence to keep out deer (still, the critters were able to nibble off sunflower heads close to the fence and just before the tour).

Later in the day, as sun and visitors sweep her garden, veggies stand tall in this tiny 
city plot.  Nansu says her secret is permaculture's  intensely improved soil that becomes
like "chocolate cake crumbs" over time. Rodale defines permaculture as "combining the
best of natural landscaping and edible gardening" (Rodale on permaculture). What could 
be better than that? (Well, maybe the homemade treats by Nansu, also a caterer and
events coordinator, and the hot coffee donated by Randy Lint of Big Creek Coffee?
It all was very, very good.)

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

So many single images define Bill and Virginia Kindzerski's acre of pristine vegetable garden that it's just a matter of making a choice. This pumpkin patch is one.

Sunflowers and corn mix in part of the Kindzerski valley-based, mountain-view garden.

Cabbages are a specialty of Bill Kindzerski, who's been gardening for 80 years (since he was six).

Virginia Kindzerski handles the beautiful flower beds. These pay homage in ornamental cabbages to her husband's interest in the vegetables.

The Kindzerski couple dries, cans and freezes much of the harvest. But they end up giving most of it away to family, friends and charities.

Kale, kale and more kale thrive in the Kindzerski's composted soil.

One overview of the Kindzerski garden shows mountains to the east and close-in trees
that Bill insists trap cold air from snow-capped mountains to the west and make his garden
mature later than most of his neighbors'.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The key image for the Bitterroot Secret Garden Tour is the dragonfly, and Jean Israel echoes that with her own little "Welcome" sign, featuring that beautiful insect with transparent wings.

Sun-shade-sun also could be the theme in Jean's newly restored in-town garden. Out front is a sunny, renovated bed packed with plumes of native purple liatris and ornamental grasses.

In back of Jean's house are areas of deep shade, such as this little patio with fragrant creeping thyme between the stepping stones.

Bicycle-as-garden ornament is another whimsical shade theme of Jean's.

But sun gets captured in a southwest corner of Jean's backyard, where a collection of new raised beds already is partly harvested and ready for fall plantings.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The best place to sit in Susan and Mark Behrman's garden is under a handmade arbor covered with hops.  It's a quiet getaway at the edge of their unusual mountainside ornamental/vegetable garden -- fenced all the way around against roaming elk and deer.

At the front of the Behrman beds are bright edges of marigolds, nasturtiums and sunflowers, with tomatoes staked in the middle of this one.

The Behrman's Jack Russell terrier scampers across lawn between veggies and herbs.

A broader view of the Behrman garden shows mountains in the background. They live and garden about 1,000-feet higher in altitude than do their friends in town.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Horse trough as flower bed, above -- just one of many treats to be found in Kielian and Chuck DeWitt's Bitterroot Valley garden.

At the entrance to the DeWitt house are pathways edged with a horticulturist's dream of flowering perennial varieties.

Another view of the DeWitt's paths and bounteous plantings.

Below the main DeWitt house is a greenhouse to die for; here, a master-gardener volunteer tells garden tourists what they need to know about surrounding plants.

A cactus in a birdcage, above, is just one of Kielian DeWitt's whimsical touches...

...as is a lovely screen and planters around the PortaPotty rented for the event.

And when all touring is done, Nansu Roddy, Jean Israel, Virginia and Bill Kindzerski, Susan and Mark Behrman and Kielian and Chuck DeWitt gather on a sunny deck for drinks, nibbles and a special Secret Garden cake (baked by one of the intrepid organizers, Deborah Bedey; other organizers are artist and interior designer Karol Klakken May; garden wiz Kielian DeWitt; Ravalli County Extension Agent Katrina Mendrey; and me, garden writer Becky Homan).  Look for us to put on another benefit garden tour next year!
 2016: Here we come!

Saturday in Montana

Every so often on a Sat., I like to get out of town to see what nearby farmers markets are up to.

Missoula's is pretty wonderful.

A fiddler finds a spot to play some Celtic tunes.

 Black Krim heirloom tomatoes shine (ours, in our Hamilton garden, aren't quite this ripe).

Carrot bunches are massive.

Old-fashioned flowers rule.

English peas are tempting (I bought a bowl and turned them into Pasta Primavera).

Rhubarb slushies? Not so much. I grow rhubarb, I love rhubarb, but I know how much sugar it takes to make it palatable!

Young farmers, beautiful produce, and the dimension of interesting tents make for a fun scene.

And if all else fails (how could it?), grab a tamale from a hipster's food truck on the way out.

Front and center

It's been awhile since I blogged, and that's because I'm doing the above -- camping, first at 
Holland Lake northeast of Missoula, more beautiful than ever but buggy -- armies of
mosquitoes -- and without an open lodge restaurant, as promised online. Arrggh. We wanted
a bit of glamping (as glamorous, catered camping is called). We got in a nice campfire in one 
of the sturdy, official fire rings, instead, a light home-cooked meal, a night's sleep, cold coals 
the next morning, and we moved on instead of staying the second night that we'd booked
via Holland Lake Campground.

We headed further north -- through Big Fork, MT, a cute touristy community on the eastern shore of Flathead Lake. We got gas and turned away from it (eastward) to skirt the south side of Glacier National Park. This was weeks ago. Currently, there's something called the Glacier Rim Fire (Inciweb Montana) going on there, with 85 acres and some 30 percent of it contained. As a Facebook friend wrote the other day, "And so it begins," fire season, that is.

What we wanted to see most on this trip was something that a Bitterroot Audubon Society friend (and, coincidentally, TV's David Letterman) had discovered years ago -- the beauty of the beginning of the Rockies. You probably know about the front in Colorado. Montana has it, too. It's called the Rocky Mountain Front here. Above, we drove toward it from Choteau, MT, with dancing clouds leading the way past remnants of the Great Plains.

There is a new federal law (Rocky Mount Front Heritage Act) and a new book (Discover the Rocky Mountain Front) that give dignity, protection and adventure to this place where plains meet Rockies. Plus, it's just gorgeous there, and relatively undiscovered.

Above, is one beauty spot that we want to come back to, to do some dispersed camping ("the term used for camping anywhere in the National Forest outside of a designated campground. Dispersed camping means no services; such as trash removal, and little or no facilities; such as tables and fire pits," according to the US Forest Service). I'm not telling exactly where this place is!

Talk about dispersed! I will tell about this location. It's high above East Fork Reservoir, near Philipsburg, MT, and only 67 miles from our front door. However, the narrow, some would say dangerous mountain roads make for a 2-3 hour ride each way.

We did this trip the day before yesterday. The view of the Anaconda-Pintler Mountains is spectacular on this dispersed-camping spot. However, global warming is turning Montana into a heat oven early this year. On this day, we were still experiencing 100-degree heat, even at the higher elevations. The mountains, above, had been seriously snow-streaked when we saw them last. This trip, the snow was gone. And we were beset by bees and flies of all shapes and sizes. Most were non-biting, except for at least one huge horsefly. It got me right in the scalp. Itching and swelling followed, although it's better today.  Montana isn't easy. But, boy is it pretty.

A side note on our vintage VW Westfalia van: It took a leak, literally, when we got home from the first of these trips. Apparently, we needed a new port for connecting to external water sources. My husband called a great source of parts (GoWesty) and got a guy who was having a bad day. We called again the next morning and, indeed, someone else told us that the part shouldn't have failed, and we got another one shipped to us at no cost. Now, if we can only get that oil light to stop buzzing when it consistently lights up (on a more recent trip). We carry oil with us, of course, and a dose of it tamed the light on the drive home. But surely we're not burning oil after only 800 miles on a newly rebuilt engine, right Scott/GoWesty? Yikes.