I left Missoula late yesterday after bookkeeping, laundry, and re-packing the car. That late departure was a mistake because the temperatures had mounted while I was busy, up to 89 degrees F..
The mechanics in Reno thought I would have no trouble crossing Idaho and Montana because it would likely be cooler that far north than in Nevada. In truth, I had no trouble with the car overheating along the coast and across Idaho...until today.
As I climbed higher and higher into the Rockies on Highway 12, the temperature rose and rose, until it was 98 degrees. I kept an eye on the rivers which were still heading west as I traveled east. I thought about one of my favorite songs, Kate Wolf's "Across the Great Divide."
It's gone away, yesterday, and I find myself on the mountainside
Where the rivers change directions, across the Great Divide.
Once I got across the Great Divide and the rivers started emptying toward the Mississippi, the slopes would take me downhill to the Midwest.
But as I started up MacDonald Pass, I watched the heat gauge climb, too. At the very top of the pass, in 100 degree heat, I had to pull over and go through the coolant ritual. I was well prepared but it meant staying at the site of the highway for half an hour in that awful heat. Then some fellows stopped by to offer help but by then, I had things well in hand. I took some photos and kept going down slope, figuring my troubles were over.
Helena was right ahead. I stopped for lunch and queried about the location of campgrounds.
I have commented before about men giving directions whether they knew anything or not. They first suggested the campground on MacDonald Pass. However, that's where I was stalled and I knew the campground was closed.
Where's the forest service located I asked. They immediately started giving me instructions that had something to do with a helicopter. I went off trying my best to follow what they told me and wound up in East Helena where I stopped for gas and got more instructions. I finally asked the clerk for a map of Helena. They all helped me locate where I was and where that ranger station was...behind a tire company.
OK. I followed the map, went past that helicopter and found what they had been steering me towards. Except it wasn't there. A sign gave the new address. Using the map, I finally found the National Forest Service, near the airport. There the ranger in charge told me that the campsite I originally wanted, Park Lake, had been denuded of trees. There had been a blight in the area and most of the trees had to be cut down. "Moose Creek would be good," he said. It seems most of the trees were gone but the first few sites still offered some shade.
So off I went, finding Moose Creek fifteen miles away. The fee station said $5 a night, which for those of us with senior access passes, meant $2.50. But when I got into the campground, those shady places had already been taken. No reservations, it's first come, first served in most national forest campgrounds. I found only three sites left and all of those were covered with the detritus left by the logging companies. It would take me at least an hour in the 100 degree heat to clear a place for my tent.
As I walked around, I looked at the campers who had come before me. My nearest neighbor had a crying baby and two small dogs that Gary calls "yap and crappers", the kind that bark all night.
Most of the other sites had cars with University of Montana stickers. More arrived carting cases of beer. These were older than the Mormon teenagers I had scared with a blast of my car alarm in Utah. As I drove out of the campground, two pickups approached dragging trailers with ATVs. $2.50 was way too much to pay for a campground like that.
I spent the next two hours trying to find a place to pitch my tent, but all I could find was an RV camp with only a spot of grass and no trees.
So here I am at yet another motel, hoping for cooler temperatures and a suitable campground tonight.
At least you are heading east towards Wisconsin again and all our trees...and mosquitoes...and heat, but it's home.
ReplyDeleteSusan