We cruised the north side of Canyon Ferry lake to the Norwegian Wood Golf Course. The setting is part golf course, part retro railroad depot, part ranch. They raise Highlander beef cattle on site. I was told there will soon be pork on the menu, much to the chagrin of the pink skinned critter I saw wandering around the corral.
Be very hungry if you order the Avalanche burger with potato salad and chili. The chili on this burger made me feel guilty. It is simply too good to be ordered as a topping on an entree.
The red solo cups you see in the photo are not standard fare. They have a significant wine and specialty brew selection. As we were all cruising cars that cost more than our first house, on a very sunny day, water and lemonade hit the spot thank you very much.
Reservations requested for four or more in your party.
Mid-morning on the south side of the Missouri. The Dearborn River runs from the Bob Marshal wilderness to spill into the Mighty Mo just past the railroad bridge on the right side of the first picture. There is a Yurt in the Y formed by the rivers. A semi-permanent tent on steroids type structure. They are gaining popularity due to ease of assembly and durability.
Department of Transportation was inspecting the bridge. The orange inspection vehicle hanging precariously high above the water.
There were a lot of Mackenzie boats and float tubes with fly fisherman on the water. One of the chase vehicles was this Suburban with light weight trailer made for hauling a boat the fisherman can carry to and from the water.
I stopped to watch an elk herd grazing on the Kantorowicz Ranch. The ranch has been absorbed by a big ranch in the neighborhood since old man Kantorowicz can’t operate it, but in my mind it will always belong to that cantankerous old man.
These pictures are from the recreation road. The elk like to graze just as it gets dark and are in the shadow of the trees opposite the hayfield from me.
The first two pictures are as the sun was setting and a storm rolling in. Being a gearhead, I had to get the Honda in one of them.
The last photo is proof that I had dawdled too long. It is after dark in a rainstorm. It may not look dark you say. I say the photos look different during a lightning strike. Yes, I was huddled under the Interstate bridge shooting away.
Leny’s Repair and Service is a shop like the early years of hot rodding.
There is a spray booth with a ’61 Impala. A ’64 Impala sits on the hoist. A metal lathe is along a side wall. There is a magazine rack with Cars, Rod and Custom, Hot Rod and Hemming’s Motor News. Engines stand, waiting to power someones pride and joy. A pair of Goodyear Drag Slicks mounted on Magnesium wheels in a corner.
Not only is there cool stuff here, the place itself is cool. The window sign, sink stand, neon lights all say we are building something out of the ordinary here.
An early morning walk on the road leading to Hauser Dam starts the day.
I saw more deer than people along the way.
I am not much of a fisherman, can’t even catch them on camera. They were jumping.
Walk over. No down to the business of the day I have dreaded. You can’t put a value on life, but when you split with a spouse you must put a value on the things in your life. It is going to be a long day. Can I just take another walk?
Carl and I have hunted together since before we both shaved every day.
I shave every day. Carl, here and there. Nearly 29 years of military service hath wrought habits I will not likely shake.
When he asked if I wanted to go along on a preseason scouting trip to this elk hunting grounds I couldn’t have been happier. This is not a hunt, more a shakedown run for new gear. Break in new boots by walking a few miles. The new backpack fits alright with stops for adjustment of buckles and straps. Shooting is limited to my camera. Carl tolerates my blog related hobby.
I understand his eccentricities and he understands mine. Our friendship has seen more ups and downs in our lives than the hills we walk. We’ve had vehicles, marriages, children, and jobs. All open for discussion without judgement or pretense.
Does he know why I always get my elk the last day of the season? We just don’t need to put that into words.
Gran Torino at blast from the past car show 2012. Bill took the photo. Scott admiring the laser stripe.
Ford Motor Company built the Gran Torino at the end of the muscle car era. Ralph Nader, insurance companies and environmental regulations were changing the automotive industry. Gone were the ground pounding, high compression, two-four barrel carburetor, big blocks of the sixties. The 1972-1976 model years had the looks of the factory hot rods, but not the performance. They were fast for their day,but smog equipped meant less power. The classic car market for these cars had always been weak.
Clint Eastwood appeals to “the guy” in every man. His character is misunderstood by everyone but the movie audience. He communicates poorly with friends and family. Bad guys shake at the sight of him. Now Clint Eastwood makes a movie titled Gran Torino. He owns a Gran Torino in the movie. As I watched the movie I thought the value of those cars is going up right now. Thank you Mr. Eastwood.
Pictured is a 1972 Gran Torino at the Blast From the Past car show in Helena, Montana. The value of the car has increased considerably according to the owner. A benefit I had not anticipated was parts availability. Any restoration relies on the availability of model specific pieces. The Gran Torino Sport had an optional laser stripe on the side with a fading color scheme that is very hard to recreate in a paint shop. The desirable option had been out of production for years. Since the movie Gran Torino, the demand is high enough for graphics companies to reproduce the laser stripe. Cars that may not have been restored to their full glory are back thanks to the power of the media. I love America.
Highway 12 bypassed this bridge long ago. Take the Toston turn off to get a look. This is the on Missouri River.The first look is upstream. The family floating the river got out at the fishing access site where the sign below is.
I rode the Honda 750 to Crow Creek Rd. I took a hike from the campground. This is in the Elkhorn mountains about 4 miles from Radersburg.
To get to Radersburg turn off of Highway 12 at The Bunkhouse Bar and go 9 miles. As you turn off the main road there is a sign Radersburg 9 miles. As you get to Radersburg there it is, mile marker 9 right at the edge of town. You don’t accidentally get to Radersburg. You need a reason to go, and there are not many reasons. The locals like it that way. It has no bar or post office. I am not sure how the town incorporated in Montana, as those are the two prerequisites. There are two semi-trailers parked on Main Street advertising moving companies that are long since defunct. They have been parked for over 9 years.
It was a sunny, hot day as I arrived at the campground. I changed into my workout gear. I wore two shirts and a jacket on the ride up, but planned to wear just the dri-fit shirt. The shirt I was leaving behind was damp from being worn, so I decided to hang it on the handlebars because I wanted a dry shirt to put on after my workout. I stowed my other clothes and Stanley vacuum bottle of coffee in the saddle bag.
As I got about 4 miles from the motorcycle I heard thunder in the distance. It started clouding up. A storm was imminent. A few dirt bikers came by and asked if I had rain gear. I indicated I was Okay. Some people in a Powerstroke offered me a ride down the mountain. They were perplexed by my response that if I got wet I was sure I would dry off. I never told them that had I taken the ride I’d have been standing, shivering until the rain subsided.
I like walking in the rain. A lightning storm in the mountains is a spectacular display when you get past the what if it hits me worries. I had dry clothes to put on back at the bike. So I walked as the rain let up and ducked under trees to wait out the heaviest downpours. The rain had let up as I hit a nearly level stretch in the road. I thought this would be a good place to run a bit. I had seen a snake on the way up the road and merely stepped around as it slithered off to the side. This time I was moving faster and it was a rattlesnake. When already running it is not easy to make your foot go an extra distance before hitting the ground. Somehow I managed to do so. The snake poised to strike as I jumped sideways up and back in one motion. I don’t know if snakes can laugh, but that had to be a sight.
As my life flashed before my eyes in that instant one picture stood out. Me hanging my shirt to dry on the handlebars before this torrential rainstorm. Walking down the trail I sang to myself “Tonight We Dance”, and wondered what Spanish for snake dance was (Baile de Serpiente). As I changed into dry pants and donned boots in place of running shoes I had to make the decision, very wet stinky shirt or dripping wet shirt. Very wet stinky shirt won out, and I apologize to the clerks at Town Pump in Townsend for that.