Pompey’s Pillar

I have had a couple of goals for this circumnavigation of the US. One is seeing places I have heard of and never got around to and the other is revisiting places not seen in a long time. Pompey’s Pillar has been on my radar since internet access taught me to search the dusty corners of history biography and geography during many long hours of waiting to hear the 911 phone ring. I have finally fulfilled this goal though we barely got there in time.

Sacagawea’s son whom she had with a fur trader she married, was apparently nicknamed Pompey and Captain William Clark decided to  name this pile of rocks for the toddler. The 400 foot tall sandstone column on the south shore of the Yellowstone River has become a National Monument thanks to Clark cutting his name in the stone as the only graffito left by the Corps of Discovery on its two year exploration of the American west. 

In the modern era Clark’s graffito is suspended high in the air as the soft sandstone has crumbled away from where he stood so the parks service has built a steep complicated wooden structure to allow us to see what he saw and stand where he stood 216 years ago.

Dogs aren’t allowed up here so Layne  walked Rusty on the expansive lawns down below and I got to spend the 45 minutes before closing time checking the visitor’s center…

…watching a movie and finally buying Ambrose’s account of the expedition as I had been looking for a book to get me up to speed on the full story. 

Too often History is reduced to an account of war and political intrigue and the horrors humans are capable of inflicting on each other. Lewis and Clark defied the odds, shared leadership duties and traveled for two years exploring a possible water route across the new Louisiana Purchase to the Pacific Ocean. No lives were lost, no Indians were massacred and much was discovered. I’d like to think I’d have been brave enough to join them but I wonder. 

To think Clark walked here got my over active brain thinking.  Naturally despite the late hour, perhaps because of it, I was not alone and had to share this monumental moment with loud children and visitors glued to their phones. But it was worth it. 

Lewis and Clark split up briefly on their return journey with Lewis going north and Clark coming south along the Yellowstone. He saw this pillar and observed some drawings already carved in the soft rock so he added his own. Nowadays doing what he did is vandalism of the worst sort, but he gets a free pass for creating this magical spot. 

Lewis explored the Marias River to the north and left no note of his passing. So this is where we focus our attention. They met up August 12th 1806 a good deal further ahead of their original planned meeting spot at the mouth of the Yellowstone noted in passing on the way out the  year previous. They were good planners accompanied by good luck. I hope these youngsters learn to understand the nuances of the past. 

What a time that was to be on a path of discovery. I know that what followed was hardly edifying but to have been the outliers measuring the country’s newly acquired wilderness 

must have been astonishing. 

We can just tag along and be glad we get to see a little of what they saw. And a Promaster van on I-94 isn’t a terrible way to travel even if it is nowhere near as heroic as those early explorers. 

The National Parks Service always does a bang up job of recording the history of these places: 

From I-94 exit 23: 

Spot the gopher in the lush grounds of the monument: 

We were tired from a long days drive and for me some serious stair climbing! What turned into a pause for a picnic became dinner, Montana cheese of black rye bread from a Helena bakery followed by an unmanly dinner of delicious quiche also from Sunflower Bakery in Helena. 

Then we turned in for the night on a whim and in the middle of that Saturday night when I awoke to write this I could hear traffic in the Interstate occasionally but in the silence the night filled with the rustling of cicadas, the sounds of my youth in Italy, and I’d like to think the sounds heard by Captain William Clark camped nearby two hundred years ago. 

Missoula to Helena

I woke first in the enchanted pine forest and I lay in bed reading for a while as Rusty expressed no urgency about getting up. It was a cool fresh morning bound to heat up as the day went on as I could see golden sunlight falling among the trees. 

A man walked by apparently by himself. It’s hard to see in through the smoked glass but you can look out quite easily.  He walked out of sight down the road. Later Rusty and I met him with his three happy retrievers. 

He said he was surprised to see people driving up here to spend the night and locals worry about forest fires. The fact we were parked on the dirt well clear of the grass had reassured him. He also said he had never seen the place so dry after 32 years living here. We talked about an old friend of his who had died and whose sons had sold his land and his shack for nearly three quarters of a million dollars. And their well has dried up. What next I asked and he shrugged. They are trying to drill down more than 400 feet to try to find water. The future looks bleak. 

Rusty followed them for a while to my astonishment as I’d never seen him be so easy going around a pack of rambunctious dogs like that. Travel is broadening his mind! 

While I was brushing my teeth and shaving (not simultaneously) two women showed up and started chatting with Layne about van travel. They have a trailer and were looking for tips. I didn’t figure they needed me to be mansplaining  so  I pressed on with my ablutions.

We packed up and hardly got lost at all driving back down the road past the No Trespassing signs of private property lining the Forest Service access road. We were not unobserved. 

And from there we drove to Missoula. 

We found a pretty town wedged into a Y shaped valley with a university campus and tree shaded streets. The building above is the art museum and we were curious to see inside but Layne vetoed an indoor visit after some thought. The tall county courthouse had me wondering for a moment if my belief that Helena is the state capital was misplaced - it’s not as a quick Google search revealed. 

I also discovered marijuana is legal here but it’s not well advertised. Unlike California Oregon and Washington where it is advertised with much gusto on billboards. Idaho the dreary  has no legalization program so I suppose potheads avoid that sliver of prohibition. Luckily for me I don’t care one way or the other. But in Montana it’s as though this is a state that prefers government control of their sins, not at all the wild west of popular historical imagery. 

We, the big drinkers have finally polished off the expensive tequila we bought months ago in Mexico and Layne went into the state liquor monopoly store to buy a new bottle. She rated the gold label at $57 a good buy; she expected prices to be higher in the state monopoly store but the bonus in Montana is no sales tax. According to our hosts at a farm that night the state taxes businesses heavily to make up the difference…

I also discovered there is a national non profit dedicated to encouraging bicycle travel. It’s been around since 1973 and I’d never heard of it. Possibly because bicycle touring seems a tad bit strenuous to me. 

We spotted a tea shop selling  tapioca drinks. I had taro which tastes a bit like vanilla and Layne had mango that tastes like… mango. Refreshed we sorted our map to give us a route to the Costco gas station in Helena at $4:30 a gallon. 

The main road to the freeway passes through a tunnel that to our minds looked slightly unusual:

And back to big sky country for a few more hours. 

We got a bit muddled up looking for a quiet lunch spot along the highway and ended up driving through part of the Paws Up Empire. The drivers of the van limos waved cheerfully to us mistaking us for one of their own but we turned around and got out of there before we were busted. Larry Lipson owns 37,000 acres of land, ten miles of the Blackfoot River and charges a starting rate of $1200 a night to sleep here. Do your own research if you think that sounds like you: it’s not us. I did note the Lewis and Clark reference shin and it seems they cruised through here on their way to the Pacific Ocean. 

Aside from over the top dude ranches there are plenty of real ranches still going strong in Montana. 

It doesn’t look much like drought country thanks to the flowing waters and wasteful aerial irrigation but outside the rivers it’s hot, 90 degrees and dry. 

After we got gas we repaired to our campsite for the night: a free harvest host farm outside Helena: 

Kim and Jim Ashmore milk about 230 sheep, 50 here and the rest on another nearby ranch and they produce sheep’s milk and make superb cheeses. They say sheep milk can also be digested by some people with lactose intolerance which surprised me as it tasted like rich cow’s milk. We bought a quart for our small fridge. 

Jim fed the sheep while Kim told us about her South African Dorper sheep. Apparently they are bred to be tough outdoor animals given to going into labor only in daylight to limit attacks by predators , which is also a convenient trait for humans handling these animals…

There were two other guests on our tour from Missoula, a nice couple of grandparents taking a few days away from family responsibilities. Kim explained the difference  between wool bearing sheep and hairy sheep who do not need shearing. Score two for the Dorpers. 

The sheep are penned and guarded by dogs tied up around the sheep. They say they will build a perimeter fence to allow the dogs to run loose. I hope they do it soon, as you can imagine how much I liked seeing dogs tied up. Rusty was not allowed here and he was comfortable in the van. Luxury compared to these working dog kennels. 

The net result of all this work is a 5 am start for Kim who makes the cheese inside the huge modern barn structure. 

I asked about the mysterious big horn sheep which we have yet to spot in the road, though to that warning was now added a sighting of a sign warning us to beware of moose. Montana is full of dire and fearsome  roadside warnings. 

Apparently big horn rams have enormous curly horns and are quite big enough to damage your car in a collision. They have hair not wool and roam wild in Montana a bit like mountain goats on steroids it seems. Above Kim pulled a handful of wool from the weirdly moulting  South African sheep. The market for wool has been depressed by Covid though Kim thinks there is a growing market for the stuff to insulate vans (I’ve heard of that) and homes as wool singes but doesn’t burn.  

Jim showed us their other product which is too large for our freezer: 

In winter the sheep come inside and have access to the outdoors which they seem to enjoy as long as it’s not rainy or windy. Hardy animals indeed, as Kim told us minus 58 is not unheard of in this benighted state. 

The cheese was delicious and not too salty so we bought a bunch and some milk and ended up spending the night for $45. Actually an excellent deal. 

We and the fifth wheel were parked out of sight from each other and Rusty enjoyed the pine covered wilderness. Me too! 

This was the first harvest host we have stopped at since the winery in San Felipe in Baja. Before that we stayed at an olive farm in Texas and a tea plantation in Mississippi, and a winery in Bisbee, Arizona. It’s a great program for RVers and we always enjoy our shall business encounters. 

Free parking without hookups usually in exchange for a product purchase. What a deal. I know there are more Harvest Host stops on our way back to Key West.