On the Horizon
I left Sandpoint early the next morning, exhausted. Jack was such a trooper. He patiently waited as I pulled over in Clark Fork, Idaho, for a quick nap. Given that all my property occupied the bed of the truck, that left myself and my 60-pound dog crammed together in a two-seater pickup truck. I scrunched up my down jacket and rolled the windows down, using Jack as a legrest, sticking my feet out the window to accommodate my outstretched napping position. I can only imagine the thoughts had by the hairstylist whose parking lot I was using, as she pulled up and saw two boots and a Husky-Bordercollie mix sticking out of a pickup’s window.
We got to the Grandparent’s house and unloaded the truck, eager for the space this place allows us. Gramma and Grampa were working in their garden, so after unloadingI joined them and learned to use the rototiller. I’ve never used this device and at first it is kind of difficult. it'sweight alone is a challenge, especially when turning corners to start a new row to till, but I think I eventually got the hang of it. Gramma pounded two stakes in the ground at each contrasting endpoint of the row, to which we tied a string. This string allows the gardener to plant the crop in a straight line. I took the pointy-tipped hoe and drug it across the invisible line, making a ¼ inch depression in the soil. We then knelt to the ground and sprinkled tiny carrot seeds, covering them with only a little bit of warm, soft soil. I have never planted before, but it felt so nice; the soil was so soft and warm on my skin, and just being out there on that warm day was a peaceful time. The day was growing warmer so we headed into the house for lunch and I wanted to plan the activities for my visit.
I spent the time at the ranch resting mostly, with trips to town to order a new radiator for the truck, visiting the book store, down to the dam and recreation island for a walk with the pup, and the general explorations that I take down the Forest Service roads out of town.
I headed out to the next town over, Plains, to visit my friend Joe. Back in March when Kendra and I visited, we helped Joe and his buddy bottle a new IPA that he had home brewed.
That evening in Plains I had the treat of tasting the finished product. We sat in lawn chairs on the back lawn reading High Country News and watching the sun set in the western sky. We sipped the delicious homebrewed India Pale Ale, which I noticed had a hint of Molasses flavor, coupled with an intense mix of three types of hops from the Northwest region of the U.S., some of the most desirable in the country.
Plains, Montana sunset
At that moment I felt the most relaxed I’d been in months. I looked out at the vibrant western sunset then over at Joe, a Wisconsin native, myself a Californian, and said “this is why we’re here.”
Jack and I spent a lot of time together too. My grandparents are super supportive and offered to take care of him this summer while I work and live on BLM lands in South East Idaho. This makes my life, and Jack’s, much better. I am in the field for 10 hours a day and I hate the thought of having to leave him for that long alone. Jack loves the ranch: he spends his days between the farm, hanging out with Gramma and Grampa as they tend to the chickens, work the garden, and fix machinery in the shop. His favorite things, though, are his frequent swims in the Clark Fork River, chasing the deer in the hay fields, and digging after the ground squirrels in the fields.
He also really enjoys riding the four-wheeler with me up the river road. We headed up one evening to check out the river flows and look for wildlife. He rides well, gripping the seat with his little paws and craning his neck over my shoulder to get a look at everything…he’s so curious.
I was riding along and noticed a large brown figure on the ridgeline across the river, and turned the ATV’s engine off to get a better idea of what I was seeing. My eyes adjusted to the far distance, and I counted a herd of 15 elk grazing on the bluff. I snapped a few shots, and lamented the fact that I don’t have a telephoto lens for closer and more revealing shots of this amazing animal.
Jack and I hopped back on the ATV to head further up the river road. I took the cutoff at Thompson Creek Road with the intent of venturing up to the trailhead to see the state of my favorite trail, which leads to a gorgeous alpine lake within the Lolo National Forest.
Joe was recently accepted into the University of Montana and wants to study literature, a fitting craft for a true renaissance man if ever I knew one. He speaks often of things most 24 year olds rarely even consider: the Isaac Walton League and The Compleat Angler; Muzzleloader guns; bow hunting; Bukowski; craft beer making; the drunken ramblings and prose of Kerouac, the list goes on…he’s an interesting man.
We left for Missoula with a list of things to do, but also succeeded in having a great time. We headed to Kettlehouse Brewing Company, our mutual favorite Missoula beer maker. I ordered the Nitro Myrtle Street IPA, a completely surprising beer drinking experience. I have never had a beer Nitro style, which means that nitrous oxide is applied during the pouring process, whipping up the beer giving it a frothy and creamy tasting head; it took me 45 minutes to drink that beer!
Best. Ever.
Joe and I returned to Thompson Falls and he installed the new radiator, allowing me to think about hitting the road south toward Idaho Falls. I felt a surge of excitement thinking that I could be back on the road. I tied off all the loose ends of packing and planning, and settled in for a night with the Grandparents and Jack. I was sad to leave, but work and the coming summer was calling and adventure is on the horizon.
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