We headed out early in search for local elk herds. We spotted a few elk and some other locals but mostly just had a lovely morning drive.  We did find Stanley Lake

Usage is high in this area and adherence to Leave No Trace practices is low so this Wilderness isn’t really very wild and certainly not unspoiled.

It is still amazing mountain terrain and we had a great hike to Sawtooth Lake.  A small herd of elk and a few young ones were hanging out along the access road to the trailhead.  We started out though a forested area and ascended along a creek into the rugged Sawtooth Mountains.  Wildflowers bloom and snow still hangs in sheltered areas.  Bare gray mountains ring the alpine lakes in stark contrast with the clear blue water.  Pica and marmot scamper, squeak, and bark their alarm from among the glacier moraine that forms the lake shoreline.  They all fall silent as a fox trots through.

The trail climbs 1700 feet revealing fantastic views of the valley below and distant mountain ranges. Thankfully there is very little smoke in the air today.  We are without internet, TV, radio and cell coverage so we don’t know for sure where fires might be but they are apparently downwind today.

Today we head for Stanley ID home of the Sawtooth NRA and Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness to do some hiking.  US93 shares a beautiful valley with the Salmon River.   The drive is steep and winding so I do most of the scenery appreciating.  ID75 is a bit more mountainous.  We find a forest service camp site along the river, lovely, and settle in for a few days.  First mission, decide which hike for tomorrow so we are off to the ranger station and visitor center

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Hmm, lots of smoke drifting in.

This part of the country is known for its wildfires. There are no warnings in camp so must just be blowing in.

I ride old Paint. Well, not real old.  The city of Missoula commissioned the building of a brand new carousel in 1995.  A local wood worker, with the help of a bunch of volunteers, carved 38 ponies (one is actually a dragon).  I rode Paint.  I grabbed a bunch of rings too but the brass ring went to a youngster….probably appropriate!

Big Dipper Ice Cream

They serve locally made and absolutely delicious ice cream: Irish Brownie for Kent and Cardamom for me.

Catch a wave. In Montana?

We watched from the Higgins Street Bridge as a number of locals surfed Brennan Wave on the Clark Fork River that runs right through town.

Views of craggy peaks, tall stands of pine, and cool grey colored glacier moraine line the trail along a beautiful stream in the Bitterroot Wilderness Area. The plan was to hike 9 miles out to the North Kootenai Lake that feeds this stream but the trail became increasingly overgrown and the day increasingly hot; we turned back after 5 miles.  I would recommend the hike but be ready for a rock strewn path most of the way.  It wanders through quite a bit of dead standing timber too.

Check out the trail “road crew”.

First thing, we take the circle dive. A huge bull bison is resting in a roadside wallow totally undisturbed by our approach.  He is disturbed by some pesky bugs though and takes a leg-flailing dust path right in front of us.  It is a bit comical to watch.

There is a flash of movement off to the left. Two bull elk are moving through the low brush.  Both sport impressive antlers and they seem to be watching out for each other.  They are fantastic to watch.  It is odd to think that in just another 30 days or so they will be standing off against one another as they build their harems.

All the guys are feasting and getting ready for Fall. Mule deer and white ta

il deer also sport some great antlers.

Ram big horn sheep stake out territories.  In herds, bull bison are selecting their mate and “tending” them to stave off other bull’s advances.  We stop among the herd and listen to the sounds of these guys defending their claim.

Bison cows keep a watchful eye on their calves. New, still red colored young ones mix with older calves that are already growing adult coats.  It seems the entire social interaction is pretty complex.

The drive circles through fast open rolling prairie with views of surrounding mountains. There, a tiny spec moves on a far hill.  It is a Pronghorn Antelope.

Pronghorn eye lashes

We didn’t see any bear but did notice as we were heading out that the fishing access is closed. A grizzly and her cubs have been checking it out.  They get priority over human fishermen!

Part of the Bison herd went for maximum viability. They were hanging out at a watering hole along US 93 so all passerby could see them.  That is where we found a small herd of elk cows and their little ones too.

These folks say American Bison once numbered over 30,000,000. Thankfully someone figured out the need to protect these magnificent beasts before it was too late.  Federal ranges support only about half of the 500,000 bison still living in the US.  The remaining half is in private herds.  Who knew?

We spent the day on lower Priest Lake.  Despite a cool 50F start to the day and a forecast for off and on rain we headed out.  I packed jackets and fleece and we have umbrellas in the boat. We were ready for anything.  What we got was a brilliant blue sky decorated with cotton-like clouds, light cool winds, and plenty of sun that quickly warmed all that it touched.  We slow trolled to animal watch and ran at speed to explore the shore and some of the islands.

Best animal spot; a pair of bald eagles standing watch over their treetop nest. They did a lot of chirping at us when we came upon them. Check out the tasty morsel one is clutching.

Idaho claims this lake as an unspoiled jewel.  That is probably a bit of an over statement since there is really quite a bit of development on the shoreline.  Still, it is a beautiful place and we had a perfect last day to enjoy it.

It is huckleberry season and the best berries are along forest openings at elevations 4000ft and above. Hugh’s Meadow is one such place.  Off we go hoping to find ripe huckleberries and bears that are enjoying them.  Pavement turns to graded gravel to not-so-graded gravel.  The sign says 7 more miles. Kent is maneuvering through pot holes now.  Just three more miles to go; the road splits with no marking sign.  We take the right turn – the left is a mud hole too deep to be sure we can pass.  We are wallowing through pot holes and dodging oil pan scaring rocks.  It is a two track now with grass ever taller between the tires.  We are one narrow lane notched into the mountainside switch-backing our way ever higher.  We pass the promised distance.  Mountain vistas are beautiful but we come to agree that the likelihood of finding any meadow up here seems highly remote. Kent pulls off a slick u-turn and we head back down.  He is dodging and weaving and picking his way through and it starts to rain.

The short story: no meadow, no bears.