Across Montana’s
Continental Divide

I traveled across Montana’s continental divide from Clark Canyon Reservoir to the  confluence of the Clearwater and Snake Rivers in Lewiston, Idaho. There lies 400 miles of hiking and kayaking that represents some of most challenging and scenic aspects of my cross-country experience. Below is a list of sections following that route from east to west.

1. Clark Canyon Reservoir, across the Big Hole Valley, over Gibbons Pass and down to Conner, Montana at the headwaters of the Bitterroot River.
2. Conner, Montana, down the Bitterroot River to Lolo, Montana.
3. Lolo, Montana, west over Lolo Pass and down into Idaho and the headwaters of the Clearwater River at Kooskia, Idaho.
4. Kooskia, Idaho down the Clearwater River to Lewiston, Idaho and the confluence with the Snake River on the western side.

Section One: Clark Canyon Reservoir to Conner, Montana: 119 miles

In August of 2002 I set out to walk this route. I broke the trip down into three separate pieces. One, hiking 27 miles from the Big Hole National Monument east to Wisdom and then south to the town Jackson. Two, hiking 52 miles from Jackson south to the historic town of Bannack, Montana and then southwest out of the big hole and to the town of Grant, Montana before turning east and finishing at the Clark Canyon Dam. Three, hiking 40 miles starting at the Big Hole National Monument and heading west to Gibbons pass, on the Continental Divide and then down to Sula, Montana and on to Conner, Montana.

Hiking Across the Big Hole to Clark Canyon Dam: 79 miles

Route from Big Hole National Monument To Clark Canyon Dam

July 2, 2002 I started out from Whidbey Island and made the long drive, across Washington and the Idaho panhandle to Missoula, Montana. From Missoula I turned south and followed the Bitterroot River Valley to Hamilton, Montana where I spent the night. Early on the morning of the 3^rd I continued up the valley to its head at Chief Joseph Pass, then drove east across the Continental Divide and into the northwest corner of the Big Hole Valley at the Big Hole National Monument. This high valley is the link between the headwaters of the Beaverhead River which flows east to the Missouri River and the Bitterroot River which flows north into the Clark Fork River and eventually to the Columbia River and the Pacific Ocean.

The Big Hole is a high valley nearly completely surrounded by mountains. On the west and northwest is the Beaverhead Range, on the north the Anaconda Range and on the east the Pioneer Mountain Range. The Continental Divide runs up the west side and then curves around the north side of the valley before continuing north between Missoula and Butte. The valley itself is over 6000 feet high and has numerous streams and the Big Hole River which crisscrosses the valley, passing Wisdom, Montana, before exiting at the northeast corner of the valley and flowing through the Big Hole Canyon before joining with the Beaverhead River to form the Jefferson River near Twin Bridges, Montana. The high elevation and available water make it ideal for cattle pasture and hay production.

My plan was to drive about half way down the Big Hole to the small town of Jackson, Montana where I would hire someone to drive me back to the National Monument so I could hike the 27 miles back to Jackson and my car. When I arrived in Jackson I had no problem finding a local to drive me back to my starting point and I was on my way by 8:30 on the morning of the 3^rd.

The sky was clear and it promised to be a flawless sunny, if hot day, to enjoy this hike. The walking was easy alongside the road as I initially headed due east for the first nine miles to the town of Wisdom. As I walked along at about 3.5 mph I wild flowers beside the road and watched as pronghorn antelope grazed in the distance. By 10:00 the temperature was up to about 80 degrees and rising fast as the sun heated the exposed, shade less road. I was still making good time about 3.3 mph as I arrived at Wisdom, (11:00) grateful for a chance to rest and have an early lunch at a cowboy bar in town.

By the time I finished lunch at 12:00 and started out again the temperature had risen to 95 degrees and the next 18 miles promised to be “memorable” if not pleasant. Just out of town I turned due south and walked on down a road that gave new meaning for me to the words vanishing point. The road was absolutely straight and the telephone poles literally looked like an endless picket fence disappearing off into the horizon. After about an hour of this I began passing the time by counting the number of footsteps between telephone poles (280 – 293) and then seeing if I could match step for step between them. Between this game and reciting the Cremation of Sam McGee I passed another hour or so. Three hours south of Wisdom (about 10 miles) I ran out of water and the sun was really hot. It was clear to me that what had started out as a pleasant walk was quickly turning into one of those “ordeals” that build character. I was still seven miles from Jackson and dehydrating fast. At three miles the heat felt nearly unbearable and I began to have some doubts about making it all the way to Jackson without flagging someone down for a ride. But I pressed on, and at 5:30 I stumbled into town and then into the bar at the Jackson Hot Springs Lodge. I told the bartender I wanted three beers right now and I would get back to her for more when I had finished those. My feet hurt, I was sunburned and dehydrated. All in all it was one of the worst hikes I have ever endured. I think if it had been another mile or so I would have been in real trouble.

After a half dozen beers and a shower, things weren’t quite so bad and I enjoyed an great steak dinner before turning in for the night and starting the long drive back home the next day.

On August 9^th 2002 I returned to Jackson, rested and ready to hike the remaining 52 miles to Clark Canyon Reservoir where I had started my route down the Beaverhead River the previous May. I pulled into the parking lot of the Jackson Hot Springs Lodge, got a room for three nights and then went to the bar for a beer. While there I met the boyfriend of the owner’s daughter and talked him into shuttling me back and forth between Jackson and my hiking route so I could hike each day and return to a comfortable room each night. After these arrangements were made I went to the dinning room and enjoyed a big steak dinner. After dinner I reviewed once the route ahead and settled for a good night’s sleep.

On the 10^th I was up by 6:30 a packed my day pack before going to breakfast. After my last experience with hiking in the Big Hole I packed plenty of water and enough junk food to tide me over til late afternoon when I expected my driver to pick me up. I walked out the front door of the lodge at 8:45 and headed south out of town.

About a mile out of town the road turned southeast and roughly followed Governor Creek for another two miles before it joined with Bull Creek. I passed several cattle ranches and huge hay fields with “beavertails” awaiting the next harvest. These strange teeter totter like wooden machines are used to stack loose hay during the harvest and while numerous in the Big Hole I didn’t see many as I traveled east across the rest of Montana and the northern plains states. At 10:10 and about 4.2 miles out of town the road veered sharply and headed north northeast as it gradually climbed to the summit of Big Hole Pass at about 7500 feet. (11:35: 10.6 miles)

On the east side of the pass the road lost altitude quickly and descended into the Grasshopper Creek Valley. Along the way I came across some cowboys driving a herd along the road. Even though I was following a modern road it was still interesting to see first hand the nineteenth century way of moving cattle still in use and the whole notion of “cowboys” still very much alive.

Sometimes as I walked or kayaked along during my transcontinental trek, I would often silently recite Robert Service poems and sometimes I would even silently sing some catchy song that kept repeating in my mind. One such song was Woody Guthrie’s “I Ride an Old Paint”. One of the verses in that song goes “…..for I’m goin’ to Montana for to throw the houlihan”. I had often wondered just what a houlihan was and this seemed like the perfect time to find out. I asked one of the young cowboys and he answered “damned if I know”, so a few minutes latter when I passed what appeared to be the oldest cowboy on earth I asked him. He said “well young feller; there’s a couple a ways to throw a rope. One is over handed and that’s how you throw a rope when the cow or horse moves from your right to left, and the other is underhanded and that is how you rope when the animal is movin’ from left to right. The underhanded way is called throwin’ a houlihan. I thanked him and was able to continue on safe in the knowledge that I was one of the few people in the world who could now tell you what throwin’ the houlihan means.

After descending into the Grasshopper Valley I passed the Harrison Ranch (mile 18) and then followed the valley for another 3.5 miles (2:45; 21 miles total for the day) to within a mile of the Bannack turnoff. Tomorrow I would return to this spot and continue on, leaving the Grasshopper Valley at the turn off to Bannack and then continuing on for another 12 miles to the town of Grant in the Horse Prairie Valley. Once back in Jackson I washed the days grime away and hit the bar for happy hour before ordering up a rack of lamb and a bottle of Cabernet.

By 8:45 on the 11^th I was back on the road, at my previous stopping point, ready to start for Grant. After about a mile I reached the Bannack turnoff and headed off through a much more arid landscape filled with scrub brush and rocky barren soil. It was quite a change after the lush green hay growing Big Hole and Grasshopper Valleys. Soon the road was winding its way through low hills and dry gullies on its way to the remote location of the ghost town of Bannack.

Founded in 1862 and named after the Bannock Indians, it was the site of Montana’s first major gold discovery in 1862, and served as the capital of the Montana Territory briefly in 1864. Bannack (spelled differently from the Indian tribe) continued as a mining town, though with a diminishing population until the last resident left in the 1970’s. At its peak, Bannack had a population of about three thousand. There were three hotels, three bakeries, three blacksmith shops, two stables, two meat markets, a grocery store, a restaurant, a brewery, a billiard hall, and four saloons.

Bannack’s sheriff, Henry Plummer, a ruthless gang leader behind the badge was responsible for nearly a hundred deaths caused by his gang during robberies in the Virginia City and Bannack gold fields and trails to Salt Lake City. Eventually Plummer and twenty-two members of his gang were tried and hanged by the vigilantes of Bannack and Virginia City.

Once past Bannack the road turned into a primitive dirt road that passed through the hills and wound its way southwest across scrub land. The scenery wasn’t very interesting and I soon found myself engrossed in reciting some Robert Service when I heard and rustling noise behind me. I turned and saw a very angry badger coming down the road after me. He looked like he meant business and was not at all happy that I was walking through his territory. My first response was to wave my arms and shout at him, hopefully scaring him off to a safe distance. Bad idea. It turns out badgers don’t appreciate being yelled at and so he started snarling and coming even fast toward me.

Since reasoning didn’t work with him I threw rocks. This only made him madder. It was beginning to dawn on me that perhaps I shouldn’t pick a fight with a badger, and the best thing to do would be to retreat with all possible haste down the road and out of his territory. This last plan worked I am happy to say. Mr. Badger scrambled after me for about twenty yards and then apparently satisfied that I was leaving stopped and snarled and hissed until I was a hundred yards down the road.

By around noon I had come to Sheep Corral Gulch, named for its decades old sheep coral off to the side of the road. Here the road turned due south and began to descend slowly down into Horse Prairie Valley. By 1:30 I was out of the hills and walking through more cattle and daily farms. At 2:00 I passed the Cross Ranch and by 2:30 I had reached the small town of Grant. Here I intersected a main paved road and turned due east toward Clark Canyon Reservoir. By 3:00 I was within 9 miles of the Reservoir when my driver showed up to take me back to Jackson for the night. The day had been a tough one, 19 miles of hot, dry, badger ridden dusty road, but on the other hand what a great experience and improbable story to tell!

August 12^th was another beautifully clear warm day. I got a very early start today, leaving the Jackson Lodge at a little after 5:00 am. My driver and I drove on the main highway to Clark Canyon Dam and then backtracked to around mile marker 9, where I had stopped hiking the day before. I was on the road hiking by a little after 6:00 am. The hike down the Horse Prairie Valley was through mixed hay and cattle ranches. This was the valley Lewis and Clark passed along when they met the first of the Nex Pearce Indians (Sacagawea’ brother) before ascending to Lemhi Pass and beginning their long trek from the Continental Divide to the Pacific Ocean. The hike was uneventful and I reached Clark Canyon Reservoir by 7:30 and then hiked around to my put in point at the base of the Clark Canyon Dam by (9:00). I had crossed the Big Hole.

Section 2:

Hiking from Big Hole National Monument to Conner, Montana

Route from Big Hole National Monument to Conner, Montana

In August 2002 after having finished the hike across the Big Hole Valley to Clark Canyon Dam I undertook the hike from the Big Hole Monument, over the Continental Divide and down to Conner, Montana, and my put in point on the Bitterroot River. I started by driving to Hamilton, Montana where I found a local willing to drive me back up to the Big Hole National Monument (6336 feet) the following day. We left Hamilton the next morning at about 10:00 and by 11:15 I was once again on hiking along side highway 43, but this time heading west. My route would follow the highway for about 10 miles to the turnoff for the dirt road that led up through the mountains to Gibbons Pass at the crest of the Divide and then down into the Sula River Valley and the headwaters of the Bitteroot River. From Sula the route followed Highway 93 northwest along the East fork of the Bitteroot River to the town of Conner, Montana where, in June, I had put in for the kayak trip down the Bitteroot to Lolo, Montana.

It was another warm sunny day and the 40 mile route promised to be a good work out, but I was excited about finally crossing the Continental Divide and connecting the East and West portions of my route. Shortly after leaving the western edge of the Big Hole I entered an alpine forest and closely following Trail Creek. Along the way the highway was paralleled by old stacked log snow fences that lent a sense of walking through history. Lewis and Clark had come this same way on their return trip in 1806, and the Nez Perce Indians were pursued along my route by Sherman in 1877 during the Nez Perce Indian War. By around 2:30 (mile 11, 6381 feet) I had reached the junction of Highway 43 and the Gibbons Pass Road. Trail Creek also branched off here and I continued to follow along it as I worked my deeper into the foothills leading up to the Pass. At about 2 ½ miles the track entered a narrows that wound its way through the mountains before emerging into a high open meadow at Hogans Cabin, an old homestead now used as a forest service guard station. Above Hogans the road once again contoured along through the hills as it rose slowly toward Gibbons Pass (6958 feet) which I reached at about 5:30 (mile 20) that afternoon.

After resting for a while at the Pass I began the trip down the west side. Here the road closely contoured the hillside and I could look down into the Sula Valley about 2400 feet below. I hiked on for another hour and a half (23 miles) and then decided to make camp and the enjoy the last couple of hours of daylight reading a book and taking in the view of the high peaks of the Bitteroot Mountains, and Trapper Peak (10157 feet) to the West.

After a restless night camped on the rocky ground I had a quick breakfast (two breakfast bars and the rest of my water supply) and broke camp. I was on my way again by 6:30 and continued to follow the five mile descending contour toward Sula.

The road made for easy hiking and the scenery was pleasant, with Trapper Peak dominating the mountains to the west across the Sula Valley. The contour the road followed wound around and slowly down the eastern side of the valley through alternating open mountain grasslands and pine forests some of which still showed the destruction of the Bear Forest Fire of 2000. About 8:30 I reached the valley floor and hiked along between cattle farms north across the flat grasslands to a small road which then turned due west for a mile to the small crossroads at Sula (9:00; mile 5). By now the sun was fully up and the heat was beginning to build so I was grateful for the chance to take a break and refill my water supply and buy a little junk food for the remaining 12 mile hike down Highway 93 to Conner.

The Sula area, known as Ross’s Hole during the early 1800’s was where the Lewis and Clark party meet with friendly Salish (Flathead) Indians in early September 1805. Still in need of horses the expedition traded with the Salish for fresh mounts. Notable among the Indians’ herd were spotted horses, or appaloosa. The expedition left Ros’s Hole after two days and headed on down the Bitterroot Valley along the same route I was about to follow.

Today the route follow a somewhat less romantic path alongside Highway 93 which follows the course of the East Fork of the Bitterroot River through a narrow divide between Ross’s Hole and the northern portion of the Bitterroot Valley. This area too was heavily scared by the Bear Forest Fire, but is making a come back and the scenery alongside the busy highway is worthwhile especially when coupled with the history of the route. By a little after 12:30, a little foot weary and tired I walked into Conner (mile 40) and over to my put in point on the Bitterroot River. I had now connected the headwaters of the Missouri River with the “headwaters” of the Columbia River.