“One of Those In-Between Sorts of Days”
We decided to stay close to home for our first blogging adventure, at after all, why not, when we happen to live in one of the most beautiful places on Earth: Mission Valley. The valley more or less constitutes the flatlands to the west of the Mission Mountains, which run from St. Ignatius to Bigfork. Living in Polson, we are admittedly at the more northern part of the range, where the grandeur of the mountains is beginning to taper out. In fact, while working one day recently down in St. Ignatius (known locally as Mission), Pete commented to one of the locals how impressive their view was. She responded with “yeah, you guys have wussy mountains up in Polson.” He countered—as anyone from Polson would—“yeah, but we have the lake.” With him, my love of the lake is undisputed,but it is fun to periodically travel south a ways and appreciate the more rugged mountains down there, which is exactly what we decided to do today.
The weather had a little surprise in store for us. The last few weeks here has definitely been the final stages of autumn—that difficult to love time of year when the leaves have mostly fallen and the color is fading, and the days are generally characterized as chilly, gray, and barren. It is a time of year that usually calls to mind the Guns and Roses song “November Rain”—and we have certainly had rain in spades lately. But as we went to bed last night, a few small snowflakes were to fall, and we woke up to a world transformed. There is something so pleasant—almost cleansing—about the first snow, as though the gentle blanket of white somehow redeems the landscape from its former barren, ugly state. I love it, especially when it is new, and was delighted to see the onset of winter. But fall was not entirely over either, and our whole day would turn out to be caught between the two seasons, with plenty of pieces of both.
We spent a lazy morning at home (technically still in the Mission Valley), cooking breakfast and drinking coffee and watching the flocks of coots out on the lake. Coots are funny looking birds with large feet and long legs that gather in flocks as big as small islands on the lake. When the weather gets a bit colder, the lake will freeze over, and their legs will get frozen in the ice, and they will be easy pickings for the eagles. I always thought this was a bit unsporting of nature, although I do admit, it is fun to watch the eagles hunt.
Hiking: North Crow Falls
Next came the process of getting ready. Our first goal was a hike to North Crow Falls, a local favorite. I kept confusing the name with Old Crow—a cheap whiskey with which I had an unfortunate encounter in college—and poor Pete had to keep correcting me. We have hiked this once before, and were excited to see how the hike looked in the snow. Winter hiking means lots of layer options and water-tight footwear, although we were lucky, and the temperature was just hovering right below freezing. Winter also means budgeting extra time for driving, although again we were lucky, and the roads were mostly clear and dry. And of course, bear spray is an important thing to bring along anytime you are hiking in the back country, and it is especially important this time of year,as bears are out finding their last few snacks before they settle in for their long nap this winter.
It is only a mile hike to North Crow Falls, and it is a fairly accessible trail, but finding the trailhead, or any trailhead here on the Flathead Indian Reservation, is not always that easy. I remember being very frustrated when I first moved here a few years ago, because unlike the trailheads in the National Forests, the ones on the reservation are not labeled or posted all on one conveniently centralized website. I came to the conclusion that newcomers were pretty much at the mercy of the locals when it came to hiking. I have discovered that is not entirely true:some hikes are listed in guide books or on some less official websites(which I suppose now includes this one), if you are willing to do some hunting. And of course, befriending a local (in my case Pete) continues to be a good option.
To get to North Crow, turn east on Mud Creek Rd just north of Ronan, and then an immediate left onto Old Hwy 93, and then right onto North Crow Rd. This jog takes you around a field with an old barn, which is a huge favorite of photographers for its picturesque situation in front of MacDonald Peak. North Crow Rd jogs again, turning left at the North Crow clubhouse before turning east again and heading up a road into the woods. The road turns to dirt and can require slow and careful driving, though even a small sedan can make it, and ends in a wide parking area at the trailhead. Also remember that a $14 tribal conservation permit is required to hike on the reservation. These permits can be purchased in advance at https://app.mt.gov/als/index/index.html or you can pick one up at the sporting goods counter in a local Walmart, or any sporting goods stores that sell state licenses.
As we drove up the hill, Rocky was alert with anticipation. He has done this hike before, and has a sixth sense that tells him when adventures are coming. Dug was completely chill for the drive—as is his natural state, but as soon as Pete opened the door they were off at a run. In fact we are pretty sure they had both run a mile before we even left the truck. Both our dogs have good winter coats—Dug’s is especially thick—and they LOVE the snow. This being the first snow of the year, they revel in it. And as is true of all hikes in the woods, there is much to explore. Rocky bounds nimbly up the hills, and Dug with his shorter legs, trundles along behind him. Whenever Dug gets tired, he flops on his belly and wallows in the snow, working plenty of water and mud into his long blond fur. While Rocky enjoys a good shoulder-dropping roll in the snow every now and again, he fancies himself a mighty hunter, and it is usually his face that is covered in snow, as he sticks his nose into it following the scents of mice, voles, and other creatures who have burrowed beneath the earth for the winter.
In order to keep tabs on them, we frequently call them back to us, and they come barreling down the path in hopes of a treat from our pocket (poor Rocky got some old treats that had been left in my coat from last winter—apparently I forgot to wash my coat this summer—but he didn’t seem to mind. More than one cautiously joking remark was made about one of us having to be airlifted out by helicopter because one of our dogs took us out at the knees when we called them, but happily, we made it out. Sometimes the dogs even come back to check on us when we haven’t called. At one point I stopped to write a few notes, and Rocky came back to find me, he stood on his hind legs and peered inquisitively over my notebook, as if asking what was keeping me so long.
Despite all our interruptions—both canine and human—we made steady progress up the trail. The trail started out clear, a dark brown marbled with bright orange needles and the dull orange of decomposing leaves against a few white patches of snow. As we ascended, the patches of snow grew until it was nearly entirely covered, and the snow crunched pleasantly under our feet. The path was narrow, lined on the ground by the thin twigs of bushes sticking up from the snow, each sporting a few weakly colored red or yellow leaves. Higher up, the trail was closed in somewhat by low-hanging branches,heavily laden with snow. You have to be careful with branches like this; one time while we were hiking last spring,Pete disturbed a young tree bent over with snow as he past it, and sent the whole thing flying back into my face. No such mishaps today though, although I did get a few clumps of snow down my neck as I stooped under some of the snowy branches. (This is also a risk, incidentally, when Pete starts throwing snowballs.)
There is a little off shoot trail to the falls, while the main trail continues on up the canyon, and it can be easy to miss. In fact last time we hiked up here we did miss it, and we were determined not to miss it this time, so we stopped frequently to get our bearings. The trail begins to switchback up, and turns to shale in spots as it heads up the canyon. We had to be careful as the rocks were wet and slippery in places. At one point,the trail dips down to the left, then comes up on top of a large rock face. The offshoot trail is just after this, and it is marked by a faded painted #1 on one tree, and someone carved the initials “A+S” on another (which although we don’t really approve of carving on living trees, it does serve as a good indicator). You can also hear the louder roaring of the water. The trail slopes down the hill, and gets more rocky before coming out by the falls.
The falls are impressive, despite the lower water this time of year. Though to be fair, I’ve always had a thing or waterfalls; I don’t think I’ve ever met one I didn’t love. This one has three branches (really two and a half). The most notable is the gentle stream coming over a twenty-ish foot rock face into a small clear pool. In the wintery light, the strands of water look like moving icicles. The mainstream is off to the left, churning and bubbling as it stair-steps down and creates most of the noise for the falls. A small trickle of water (the third or half branch), splits of halfway down, and trickles over to the pool, entering from the left. In the summer, you can wade and even swim in the pool under the falls, but we decided not climb all the way down today because the rocks were wet and treacherously slick, and we didn’t fancy the idea of having to go in after our dogs.
As we headed back—I was starting to rub some blisters, as I have yet to find the perfect winter hiking boot, and didn’t feel like continuing up the canyon,although you can go quite a ways—the sun was finally high enough to make some inroads of light in the canyon. It was warm enough to allow a little melting, and strings of icicles had formed on a number of the rock faces, and these sang back to the sunlight in an array of sparkles.
The trip down is always faster than the trip up, and we almost made it without incident. By the end, Dug was getting tired,and mostly stayed with us, but Rocky—whose nickname is “Energizer Dog”—continued to run ahead, and we would have to call him back periodically. When we were within about a quarter mile of our truck, we called him and he didn’t come back. After several more calls, we began to become concerned. Dogs can get themselves in trouble around running water (in fact, we never hike along fast moving water in the spring), and even in the winter when the water is low, we try not to let them get to close to the water. Rocky does usually return, however, to familiar spots, so we decided to split up. Pete when on to the truck to see if he was waiting for us there, and I stayed near where we had last seen him. Sure enough, Rock was waiting at the truck, but as soon as Pete showed up, his streak of mischief emerged. When Pete opened the front door of the car,Rocky jumped in, getting his muddy footprints all over the front seat where he is not allowed to be. Then, once Pete had pulled him out, he took of sprinting back up the trail, and did not stop when Pete called him. Happily, he came straight to me, and I was able to snag him and get him on his leash. Perhaps he came back out of some concern for my well being. It is hard to say with dogs.
St. Ignatius Mission:
Back in the truck, we warmed up and the dogs promptly fell asleep and stayed that way for most of the rest of the afternoons adventures, as we drove back down into the valley. There, most of the snow had melted off, and it was a beautiful, cool, sunny fall day. We headed to St. Ignatius, our plan to explore the Mission. It seemed appropriate for our day in the Mission Valley, since the St. Ignatius Mission is the namesake for the mountains, the valley, and the town. It was founded by Jesuits in 1854; the current church was built in 1891, and became a historic site in 1973. The building is known for its murals, which unfortunately we did not get to see, because the building was closed (we suspect for renovations, based on the trailer parked in the back that said something like “Historic Renovations”). We did walk around a little, and check out some of the old cabins, which can be seen whether it’s open or not. The church is an operating church with services on Sunday, and is open at other times for visitor exploration. For more information, you can visit the church’s website at https://stignatiusmission.org/
I have mixed feelings about the Mission, as do others. It played a major role in the creation and shaping of this part of the state, and as a history buff, I am a big supporter of learning about and understanding that history. It is a cool old building, and I think anyone looking at the tiny cabins where the missionaries first worked can agree that they were tough, hardworking, brave, and must have firmly believed in the justness of their cause. However, the cause itself is controversial. My native friends are not fans of the mission, because of its role in the boarding school movement and the devastating consequences it had for their culture. If you are interested and want to know more about other perspectives (and especially if you happen to be a book worm like me) I recommend the book The Surroundedby D’Arcy McNickle.
Mission General Store:
My feelings are decidedly unmixed about our next stop: the Mission General Store,or as Pete calls it, “The Used Food Store.” It was my first visit, and I loved it. It is run by the Amish and they buy items in bulk and package them themselves. They also have some slightly dinged up goods that are still usable, and everything is a good deal. And believe me, they do have a little of everything. There is an entire aisle of novelty candies including such things as lemon crème almonds, dark chocolate covered gingersnaps, a cardboard sailboat full of assorted salt water taffy, candy Legos, and the marshmallows from Lucky Charms without the rest of the cereal. One stand has everything imaginable that can be pickled, and in one corner there is a baker’s heaven with all kinds of options from flavorings, to ancient grains, to gluten free choices. In the back there is a little deli to grab a sandwich for lunch, as well as a selection of Wilcoxson’s ice cream (made in Livingston and my personal favorite brand of ice cream). And although I don’t sew, anyone who does will find a very nice selection of fabric here. And of course, there is the normal selection of Montana related books,pictures, and curios, and if you are lucky, the added charm of a horse and buggy parked outside.
Anyone who enjoys cooking or baking (or just poking around interesting stores) should check out this place. To give you a sample of the things you can find, here is a list of everything that somehow “jumped into my cart while I wasn’t looking:”
- Assorted Flavor Yogurt Covered Pretzels
- Saffron Jasmine Rice
- Vanilla Chips
- Peanut Butter Chips
- Dried Grated Lemon Peel
- Herbes de Provence
- Orange Blossum Vinegar
- Mixed Peppercorn Grinder
- Nutmeg Grinder
- Peach Jalapeno Jam
- Bear (Berry) Jam
- Strawberry Poppyseed Dressing
- Sweet Potato Chips
- A Meat Stick (We needed a little snack)
To get to the General Store take the Main Street exit at the north end of the mission, turn east on Airport Rd, go about half a mile, then turn right on Watson. For more information about the store, click here: http://www.mission-general-store.com/
Ninepipes Lodge:
After that, it was time for dinner. If you are looking for a burger or your standard fare of bar food, the Post Creek 44 bar is just a few miles north of Mission on Highway 93. But we were in the mood for something nice,so we went further north to Ninepipes Lodge. (Our decision to go classy meant finding a gas station bathroom to change out of my grundgy hiking wear into something more appropriate—although the standards for classy are fairly flexible in Montana. While I have had to make this switch in all make and manner of bathrooms, the ones at Mountain View Cenex in St. Ignatius were clean and big enough to move around it.) Having donned my comfy sweatshirt dress (thank you Athleta for your flattering yet hassle-free dresses), we headed north.
We got to Ninepipes, which is actually a large wetland area, just as the sun was low on the horizon, one of the best times to be in the Mission Valley. Ninepipes restaurant is a large open room with big windows looking out over a pond at the grandest of the Mission Mountains (There is also a nice patio for warmer weather). The snow was long gone around the pond, and it was fringed in small trees still bravely showing their red leaves—our little piece of autumn—but the mountains were white and full of winter. We couldn’t see the sunset as it was on the other side of the building, but it was reflected by the mountains, which were reflected in the pond, and the whole scene was absolutely breathtaking. Clouds still clung to the tops of the mountains, but at one point at twilight, the snow-crusted tip of MacDonald Peak poked through. The pond was interesting as well. There were logs set up for painted turtles to sun on, but it was a little chilly for them. I did see a muskrat swimming back and forth in the otherwise smooth water.
Not only was the setting amazing, but the food was high quality as well. It is a little expensive, be ready to pay $20+ a plate, but if you are looking for a high class meal, this is a good spot. And it’s family friendly; there is a kids’ menu with all the normal staples. All the cocktails are made with liquor from local Montana distilleries. Before dinner they bring sweet rolls made in muffin tins with honey butter (this is a standing tradition; Pete remembers eating them as a kid). The salads are served on chilled plates, and I would hardily recommend the house honey shallot dressing. I had the four cheese ravioli with a pesto cream sauce and smoked salmon on top, and Pete had a steak with vegetables on the side. Both dishes were amazing. I can’t tell you about dessert, however. I was too full to eat another bite.
So after that excellent meal, we returned to our dogs who were still sleeping in the truck with the windows cracked, and headed home, feeling nearly as tuckered out as them. It was full dark by then—it gets dark early here this time of year—and it was becoming cold again. And we ended the day where we started, by the lake, all snuggled in our blankets in the cozy glow of our fire (ok, it’s actually an energy efficient heat dish, but whatever, it’s still cozy!)
Adventure is out there!! Sounds like a great day.