West Boulder River Campground

There is a time in a trip when you figure it's just about over and you get anxious for it to be over.  Home sounds so good.

That is when the adventures start happening.

I wanted to camp one more time in the Gallitin National Forest, one of my favorites.  I stopped at the National Forest Ranger station here in Big Timber.  The woman at the desk said I probably should camp at an RV camp.  The campgrounds were pretty remote.

Sounded good to me.  It certainly sounded even better when I found out the children's librarian, Jacque, had camped there two weeks before.  I set out.  It is almost 30 miles to West Boulder Campground, much of it on gravel roads with many potholes.  I took it slow.  I found the river access but after four miles I became discouraged.  It was open range with cattle and horses everywhere.  Was I on the right road? I doubted it.

I turned back and met some guys working on a bridge.  Nope, you were right in the first place, they said.  I turned around and headed back.  The delay was perfect because two miles before the campground, a black bear and her yearling cub ran across the road right in front of me.

It was the second  bear sighting of the trip, the first being in Wisconsin on the day I left.

I was the only camper.  A few fishermen were at the river, but no one had taken a campsite.  It looked like a quiet day.  I sat in my folding chair and read most of the afternoon, then caught up on journaling.  After a bit, I started hiking around and ran into Tom.  Tom is the organizer of a group of ten fishermen who rent out the cabin in the campground for fourteen days.  They are long time friends from around the United States who come and go as they can find the time.

Tom took me over to see the cabin, which is an old log structure built decades ago.  Then he invited me to come over for supper.

That's how I found myself that evening with Tom, from northern Kentucky, Joe from Akron, and Keith from Michigan's Upper Peninsula. 

They fed me trout.  Gary had insisted that some time in this fisherman's paradise (remember the book and movie A River Runs Through It) I order trout at a restaurant in honor of Hemingway.  In fact, none of them serve trout, just the usual cod.

We laughed and talked and formed a friendship. 

Then I went back to my car.  With sprinkles now and then, I thought I would sleep in it, instead of having to pack away a wet tent.

I slept exceptionally well, and headed back to Big Timber to do my laundry.  On the way I saw dozens of deer, a flock of turkeys, and free range cattle and horses.   At one point I had to shush a cow and her calf off the road so I could pass.

But when I returned to Big Timber it was to find out that the laundromat had gone out of business and the new laundromat wouldn't open for another two weeks.  

I wish I had stayed at West Boulder campground a few more hours.