Second Story Man at Seeley Lake. In the middle of a Montana winter, even a bar’s cribbage tournament loses its appeal. The books purchased in the spring months are read and we have relished in the deal. No matter how cold it may be, or that harder weather is in the cards for next week. You have to get outside to do something physical and perhaps to hear another soul speak. The biggest obstacle faced in this escape is convincing your friends that a trip is needed now. Bribes of picking up bar tabs, paying for the gas are useful to get the horse tethered to the plow. The true Montanan also realizes that there is a need for fresh air and a change of recent scenery. Once the agreement is made on what the activities will be, all will begin their Big Sky journey. Giving this topic some serious thought, I reflect I see Montana years as the best of my times. Christmas tree hunting or putting up firewood are not punishments for committing small crimes. It is always a matter of perception to what is right now and how you see it through mind’s eye. Not much can be considered work when you’re wondering in the woods under Montana’s Big Sky. This particular expedition launched from my home base at the time in Missoula, the Garden City. The Clark Fork River was frozen over on this January day and the snow covered streets were gritty. My buddy Spike and I decided that a visit to Seeley Lake, some cross country skiing sounded good. A half-gallon of rum and the makings for hot drinks were placed into the supplies with a little food. The trip took a pleasant surprise when my friend Lindsey took off from her nursing job to join us. We had three sets of ski’s and all the paraphernalia needed as we turned Spikes car into a bus. The three of us developed such good cheer I knew the plan was a worthy venture from the start. Good friends, great food and a cabin on Seeley Lake in the winter will lift even the darkest of heart. Just past the saw mill we parked the car and decided to strap up and take our first winter glide. The snow was pristine, it was as sunny as Miami and having the trail to ourselves validated the ride. We did a quick jaunt as the sun began falling from the sky and then we rounded back to pack it in. We had hot buttered rum, a wood burning stove and Mulligan Stew for our evening party to begin. We drove down Boy Scout Road and stopped to look at the lodging we had to secure for the night. If you had a bull dozer or perhaps a small box of dynamite the rustic cabin just might be insight. The temperature was dropping and it was not in the cards to turn back and try the approach again. We packed up the gear and trudged in with our laughter and then real Montana winter fun began. There was only one entrance to the cabin, our refuge and needed shelter against the biting cold. The entrance was fifteen feet above ground level and to attempt entrance you had to be bold. These wind swept piles of snow encapsulating the cabin had been coagulating all of the winter. Lodge pole pines were bent like trellises under the snow’s weight, ready to blow into splinters. It was a slow and yet not a treacherous climb over the unsteady and fragile fifteen foot snow drifts. It took me the better part of twenty minutes to get to the window which opened with minimal lift. I got through the window and established base camp cheering on my friends who started their assent. With the help of the rope I anchored to me we were soon all in the mountain retreat that did not charge rent. We made it down to the main floor which was entombed in the snow of the harsh Montana winter. You looked out the windows and saw snow pressed against the glass, no sun light made it in to glitter. The use of the wood stove was nixed as the stoves metal chimney had succumbed to the snow’s weight. We were happy as a miner with a beer when we realized there was a propane stove to save our fate. We started the hot drinks, took off wet clothes and put the stew on to begin to settle in for the night. We had all the amenities and the ambiance was perfect with oil burning lanterns and candles for light. Lindsey and I laconically shared one of the bunks and it had to be the most comfortable I ever been. The next morning we got up and climbed out of the snow pyramids tomb and joyfully went skiing again. I know of some people who would have seen these escapades as difficult and only full of trouble. I assure you they would be looking at the situation all wrong confined to their warm safe bubble. You know you had a great time in Montana when the trip involved slips and a few small hardships. It is the way of life in the Treasure State and why those who live there seek out these trips.
Posted on: Sat, 20 Jul 2013 13:39:18 +0000
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