Bob Marshall Wilderness, Flathead National Forest, MT

July 30 - August 4

There have been fires all over northwestern Montana. Everywhere we have been people have told us that the place, campground, road, etc, we were just at had just been closed or evacuated because of fires. One might have thought that the Whitleys were leaving a trail of sparks and fires and trying to burn down Montana singlehandedly. Later we heard that the governor had declared the whole state a disaster area. Fortunately we were never directly affected. Several areas of the "Bob" were closed due to fires. We stopped at the Hungry Horse Ranger Station and confirmed that the area we planned to backpack in was not yet ablaze. So far so good.. From there we proceeded south about 65 miles along a gravel forest service road that follows the Hungry Horse Reservoir and the South Fork Flathead River to the Meadow Creek Gorge trailhead, our put-in point. There the campground host advised us to raise the hoods on our cars so the pack rats wouldn't move in. About 11:00 we set off on our 6-day adventure in the "Bob". Our plan was to hike pretty hard for the first day and then look for a place to base camp. From there we would hike and fish and loaf as we saw fit. We had been told that the trail followed the South Fork and was flat. For that reason we weren't quite prepared for the steady rise of the trail and the short, but fairly steep, descents and then ascents as we passed side creeks. We also weren't prepared for the heat which peaked in the mid 90s. We hiked about 10 miles and made camp on a large gravel bar on river right near Black Bear Creek. There was an excellent fishing hole just downstream where several cutthroat trouts were caught and released.

The next morning there was a moose in camp, but Dorcas and I missed it. Today we had a choice of fording the river and saving a few miles by shortcutting a large bend in the river or continuing on the same side, climb a bluff and enjoy some views of the river. The group chose, you guessed it, the scenic, but harder and longer route. I think I may have found some potential new inductees into the "Dumb But Tough" club. We hiked about three miles, where we came to the Pack Bridge and a Forest Service work camp and began to look for a good base camp. We ate lunch in a shady spot near the corral while various members of our party set off in different directions at different times looking for a potential base camp. Finally we found a prime site on a bend on river left, about a half mile below the bridge. We christened it "Camp Izaak". During the four nights we spent there, at least a half dozen float parties told us that this was their favorite spot, and that they were disappointed when they came by and it was occupied. It was also an excellent fishing spot. We fished this section of river and had excellent results every day.

One thing we learned on this trip was that we, as hikers, were a very small minority of the area users. Before putting in, Dorcas was in an outfitter store and told the clerk we were hiking into the "Bob". She responded "Are you taking a mule or a horse?" meaning which of the two we intended to use. Hiking and carrying the gear was not a consideration for her. By far the majority of the folks who use this area have their gear hauled in via horse or mule and then float out in rafts. While hiking in and out, we must have met or been passed by a half dozen pack strings each way. These animals apparently need a lot of room to pass, much more room than the mules in the Grand Canyon or Bryce Canyon. The wranglers continued to advise us they needed more room to pass, which was a problem on the narrow trail. A few of the wranglers were not particularly polite, resulting in the temptation to startle their animals and watch the stampede. While fishing in front of Camp Izaak, we frequently had to stop fishing and retrieve our lines as float trips drifted by. Most of the guides asked permission before crossing and apologized, but the clients wouldn't make eye contact and kept right on fishing. Low-life bastards. If you didn't duck you were likely to take a hook in the ear. Unfortunately, many caught fish in our hole, which added insult to more insult.

On the last day we hiked out via the shortcut across the large bend and forded the river, a total distance of about 11.5 miles. On the drive out the smoke and haze was so thick you could barely see across Hungry Horse Reservoir, only a mile or so. Dorcas and I returned to the coach in Kalispell were we discovered that we had tripped the breaker in our external power supply, forcing the generator to cycle on and off as the battery discharged. I had set my coach charger to charge at a lower rate specifically to keep that from happening, but I had forgotten to turn off the air conditioners. Duh! No harm. We were down a little diesel, but the fridge was still cold. We showered and dressed and drove to Whitefish to meet our friends and feast on pizza and beer at the Mackenzie River Pizza Company.