Our first river camp in the morning. The tarp was fluttering loosely so people wouldn't walk into the guy lines at night.
I stayed in the tent about as long as I could, until 5:30 or so. Then I got out and puttered about. I took some pictures. I discovered that the guides had pulled the canoes out and washed out the mud, at least as best they could, then stacked them neatly. Over our 5 days on the river, they did this every day, and I never saw it happen once.
Morning light on the cliff across the river from the unnamed camp.>
I should mention one memorable thing about this campsite... the outhouse. At all the other campgrounds, the outhouses were concrete affairs. They had the characteristic outhouse smell, but they were solid, spacious, and "ok." This campsite was a state (Montana) site, and featured an outhouse that definitely was not of the BLM type. This outhouse was a wood structure, small, with a "spongie" plywood floor (as in, it had LOTS of flex, more flex than you really want in an outhouse floor). There was a seating platform, and a toilet seat. The oaken toilet seat was split, and had a broken hinge. But oddest of all, it didn't seem to have a hole. Under the toilet seat was a wooden cutout, with a wooden bar nailed across it. "What the... ?" I'm not sure why, but users were to grab the cutout by the wooded cross bar and put it aside, THEN put the (split) seat into place and, well, use the facilities. T.P. was in a coffee can on the side. When finished, users were to re-lid the coffee can, re-cover the hole, and replace the seat. What amazed me, is that all seem to do all this--most people can't be "trusted" to put the seat lid down at home. Never mind... . This experience made all the other privies look really good. Spectacular, even. Of course, I don't have a picture of it. How could you take a picture that would capture all of those details?
For breakfast, we had warm granola. Ethan squirted Parkay or some other butter-substitute into a frying pan, added granola and peanut butter, and stirred. This was all heated until warm and wonderful. I got a big bowl full, and was just starting to eat when Ethan came to me and said he’d just noticed sunflower seeds in the granola. I’m very allergic to sunflower seeds, and was disappointed when I had to give it up. I discovered Fruit Loops in the dry cereal, though, so was happy enough. My friend Leslie, points out that health literature says colorful foods are the most healthy, and therefore, Fruit Loops are an excellent health food. Crunchy, too.
We packed up after breakfast and started paddling. On this day, I was in the bow (motor) with Pat taking her first stab at stern. We wandered some, but Pat stuck with it.
Her first strokes as a sternsman.
A canoe passes some White Cliffs.
We were aiming for Eagle Creek Campground, where we’d be able to have lunch and do a hike or two. We paddled for a while, and when we approached a grove of Cottonwood trees on the left, we pulled in. Ethan took his anti-rattlesnake paddle, and went looking for confirmation that this was Eagle Creek. Many minutes later, Ethan came back and reported that this was not the place. We paddled on, and the next grove was the right spot. We landed, this time on mostly solid ground. This time I knew we’d be hiking, so I made sure I had my camera and water. I had gotten a water bottle holster (close-out, no need to pay full price), so didn’t feel a need to haul my mesh backpack. In all, I really like the water bottle sling. Anyway, we proceeded from the Eagle Creek Campground to Neatts Coulee.
A view of La Barge Rock from Eagle Creek Campground.
I should explain that a “coulee” is a gully, canyon or ditch. It’s from the French word for “flow.” Walking just a short distance into a coulee makes it easy to see how “flow” created these canyons. The hike to the mouth of the coulee was across the bench area, along a well trodden two track. It was very sunny and hot, and I was glad I had topped off my water bottle. Truly, the water tasted pretty bad, but it was hot and I was thirsty, so it went down pretty easily on this trip.
The entrance to the coulee.
We came to the mouth of the coulee and entered. The walls were low at
first, and the opening was wide, but it progressively narrowed and the
walls got higher. When we came to a shady spot, we sat for a water
break. Some folks decided to wait here. It was cool and pretty, but the book made this slot canyon sound really interesting, so I went on. Jesika stayed with those who had decided not to go further than the river. So Lauren was our leader. I should mention that none of our guides had been here before. They were working from WI (Wilderness Inquiry) directions. Usually Terry, Nolan and Martin charged ahead, but not too far, while Lauren kept the rest of us together.
These three guys were sooooo helpful. They filled the Dromadary bags the first night, and were always around to lend a hand, or lift heavy things. Thanks guys!
We came to a narrow spot which we all wiggled through. The slot canyon walls were sometimes quite narrow, but usually wide enough for one or even two to walk easily.
One of the narrow spots. Need I mention, it's also one of the beautiful spots.
Another one of the narrow spots. This one required a bit of climbing, as well as wiggling.
There's a magic to travel in a slot canyon.
We were soon confronted with the chockstone the book had described. We squirmed under it, then stood. Once you stood, you needed to pull/push yourself up to the next level higher. I don’t know about anyone else, but I was pretty relieved when I managed to wiggle through.
This is the happy face of Pat, who has just managed to go under the chock stone, and worked her way through a short, narrow chute. I think we all had a look of relief when we got to this point. We still had to climb up to the next level, but once we'd gotten this far, it was just a matter of a little scrambling.
Those standing around were offering verbal support or physical help to the next hiker popping up through the "hole." In some ways, it was like that story people say when they try to remember how to tie a bowline knot... Under the chock stone, through the channel, up the chute, and onto the next level.
I don't usually put pictures of myself on my page. Often, it's because I hike alone, so I have no pictures of myself. In this instance, I was so happy to have gotten through the chock stone area, I handed my camera to someone and asked them to take my picture. Actually, the first person just looked confused and said she didn't know how to take a picture with a digital camera. Fortunately for me, the second person did.
I’d had major abdominal surgery exactly 3 months earlier. I’d asked my doctor if I’d be able to walk around the block a week after the surgery, and he’d hesitantly said, “Well, maybe.” So I figured that I was doing pretty well, at least by his standards. As I happily moved through the canyon, I was progressing toward more opportunities to prove myself. We came to a lip that needed to be climbed. Check.
All along the way were interesting textures and shapes. There had been hoo-doos at the mouth of the coulee. Hoo-doos are spires, caused by erosion of wind or water. If you squint and use your imagination, you can imagine all kinds of mythical creatures when you look at the hoo-doos. Otherwise, they just look like interesting, stark rock formations. Also, popping out of the rock faces forming the walls of the canyon were concretions. The geologic description involved some kind of a center fossil covered with rock—sort of like a tootsie-pop. Most were round or close to round, and about the size of a bowling ball. Some were on the ground, free of the wall. Others stuck out from the walls sort of like a pimple. There were other places with cross bedding and other interesting textures.
The canyon started to open again, and we came to a dead-end with grassy slopes. We climbed one of the slopes, which had a little trail that led steeply to the top. Once on top, we got a 360* view of grasslands, canyons below us, and lots of sky. I looked around, but never spotted the river, which surprised me. We took some pictures, and were checking out the view when Lauren coaxed us over to where she was standing. “We can go down here.” Now Lauren had done a fine job leading up to this point, but she’d obviously been in the sun too long. She was trying to lead us down a cliff/bluff. I guess it was a bluff, because it was a bit off vertical. “Really, we can get down here! It’s ok,” she said, from her perch on the edge of the precipice. With enough coaxing, we headed down. It was steep and you couldn’t see the bottom from where we were, but we went.
Coming down the hill
It took some time, but we came to the bottom and entered the canyon again. We came to a drop-off. Lauren descended, relatively easily, and with her help, the rest of us did, too.
From this angle it looks easy.
From there, the canyon quickly opened up again, and we were soon reunited with Jesika and those who had chosen to wait in the shade. We sat and had some water, then headed back to the campground. It had taken longer than we thought, or at least I think it took longer than it was supposed to. Ethan seemed really relieved to see us. I think it was about 1 pm when we got back, but I’m not sure. Ethan had lunch ready for us, and it was great. It was tuna salad on bread with lettuce and tomatoes and pickles, oh, and COOKIES!
Checking out the map after lunch. Jesika would teach us about Lewis and Clark and their experience in the area. That's LaBarge Rock in the background.
I think we all checked out the nice BLM (Bureau of Land Management) privy before we left.
We were really lucky on our trip. Others have written about the horrible headwinds. We, so far, had experienced little to no wind, or a slight tail wind. That had made our canoing pretty blissful. The current was running at around 4 mph, and all we really needed was to head downstream, which we were pretty much capable of doing. The current was our friend.
The current was our friend in more ways than one. We were to have a tip-test, where we’d dump a canoe and, well, I guess we’d prove to ourselves that we wouldn’t immediately drown. I usually look at it as immediately getting all of my clothing wet and dirty. On the first day, Ethan had indicated that the current was too swift at that location, and that we would hold off on the tip-test. I kept waiting for the tip test, but by the third day, I began to realize that the current was never going to slow, and it dawned on me that we wouldn’t be playing tippy-dunky.
This afternoon we passed a few landmarks. Across from the Eagle Creek campground was LaBarge Rock, downstream we passed Eagle Rock, and finally, just before our campsite for the night was Citadel Rock. I took about 1000 pictures of Citadel Rock. Karl Bodmer, who accompanied Prince Maximilian in the 1800’s, painted a relatively famous picture of it. It can be seen in the Josyln Art Gallery in Omaha. I had hoped to stop at the Joslyn on my way to Montana, but found that they are closed on Mondays, and that was the day I could fit it in, so I’ll have to fit it in another time.
Canoes approach Citadel Rock.
There was one canoeing “high point” this afternoon, Kipp Rapids. It wasn’t a big deal, just some waves, but it was a change from the still waters we’d experienced. We pointed downstream, and it was over quickly. We also saw two golden eagles, looking down on us from a Cottonwood tree. We watched them and they watched us.
Shortly after rounding the bend at Citadel Rock, we saw the Hole in the Wall formation. We pulled in and started untying lines while Ethan headed up the trail to see what the campground situation was. He came back and we proceeded to unload and haul gear to the campsite.
Our shelter at Hole in the Wall campsite.
We had a shelter here. It was a three sided building with a partition splitting it. There were benches and hooks. It was a nice set-up.
We put up tents and began to do camp chores. Lauren asked if I’d like to grate some garlic. I said I would if she’d show me what she wanted done. I guess she could have just explained to peel it, and then grate it lengthwise. I was engaged with the garlic while others were chopping tomatoes and peppers and onions. There was always something to help with, and it was nice talking to folks.
We had spaghetti and garlic bread, with lemonade and fruit slices. It was great. Oh, and the spaghetti had the perfect amount of garlic.
Two 4-wheelers came by, herding the cattle held in the field next to the campground. They told us a big storm was coming, and to make sure tents were well staked, and other gear was secured. I dug out my rain jacket, just in case, and hung it on one of the pegs in the shelter. We could see black clouds approaching, and I opted to head to the tent, so I grabbed my jacket and off I went. Margaret and I talked while the storm did its thing, which was a show of some wind and a bit of rain, and that’s about all I remember about it.
As I was drifting off, I heard coyotes yipping and howling. It was wonderful.