This is what I woke up to. I've seen worse storms, but not so early in the year. And not so far from home. There were about three inches of snow on the ground, but the roads were pretty clear. Most importantly, the temperature was still well below freezing, and a trace amount of snow was still falling at this elevation. If I were to brave the trip westward on lesser highways to Yellowstone park, I would have to cross two mountain passes; one through the Bighorns and one through the Tetons. Those peaks, visible from my parking lot, were shrouded in snowy white clouds.
Let's check to see what the National Weather Service has to say...
HAZARDOUS WEATHER OUTLOOK
ISSUED BY NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE CHEYENNE WY
933 AM MDT THU OCT 8 2009
BIGHORN MOUNTAINS SOUTHEAST-
933 AM MDT THU OCT 8 2009
TODAY AND TONIGHT
LIGHT SNOW OR FLURRIES WILL CONTINUE TO TAPER OFF THROUGH MIDDAY
OVER CENTRAL AND NORTHERN WYOMING. ADDITIONAL SNOWFALL AMOUNTS
DURING THAT TIME WILL BE GENERALLY ONE HALF INCH OR LESS. SOME
ROADS WILL CONTINUE TO BE SLICK WITH ICY AND SNOWPACKED CONDITIONS
THROUGH TONIGHT...ESPECIALLY OVER THE MOUNTAINS.
Ominous. This don't look good. Alas, I think Yellowstone will have to wait for another trip, as will the cabin in the mountains of southwest Montana that my friend Gordon had offered up for a day or two. My car was made for enjoying the trip on the Pacific Coast Highway, not pushing through the snowy mountains of the West. Instead, I figured I'd just stick to the Interstates and start making my way through central Montana headed for home. Say, on a lark, since we're on the National Weather Service page anyway, let's check the forecast for Montana...
URGENT - WINTER WEATHER MESSAGE
NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE MISSOULA MT
805 AM MDT THU OCT 8 2009
.A VERY COLD WEATHER SYSTEM WILL BE MOVING ACROSS WESTERN MONTANA
AND NORTH CENTRAL IDAHO THIS EVENING INTO FRIDAY. THIS
SYSTEM WILL PRODUCE A RELATIVELY QUICK SHOT OF SNOW...FOLLOWED BY
STRONG GUSTY NORTHEAST WINDS USHERING A VERY COLD AIR MASS ACROSS
THE CONTINENTAL DIVIDE BY FRIDAY. RECORD BREAKING COLD
TEMPERATURES AND LOW WIND CHILLS ARE POSSIBLE OVER THE WEEKEND.
...WINTER WEATHER ADVISORY REMAINS IN EFFECT FROM 6 PM THIS
EVENING TO 6 PM MDT FRIDAY...
SNOW ACCUMULATIONS OF 3 TO 6 INCHES ARE POSSIBLE BY FRIDAY
MORNING. IN ADDITION TO SNOW...STRONG GUSTY NORTHEAST WINDS 15 TO
25 MPH WITH LOCAL GUSTS TO 35 MPH WILL CREATE BLOWING AND DRIFTING
SNOW. THESE WINDS WILL ALSO RESULT IN LOCAL WIND CHILLS VALUES
APPROACHING 10 DEGREES BELOW ZERO...WHICH ARE EXPECTED TO
CONTINUE INTO FRIDAY.
PRECAUTIONARY/PREPAREDNESS ACTIONS...
A WINTER WEATHER ADVISORY MEANS THAT PERIODS OF SNOW...BLOWING
SNOW...OR FREEZING RAIN WILL CAUSE TRAVEL DIFFICULTIES. BE
PREPARED FOR SLIPPERY ROADS AND LIMITED VISIBILITIES...AND USE
CAUTION WHILE DRIVING.
That seems....worse. A picture is beginning to form as I stare at a map of the country. The passes through Wyoming were filled in with snow last night. Lookout Pass in Montana, the route I-90 takes, is in danger of being slammed with a severe storm some time tonight. If I can't get through that way, my next best option might be all the way in New Mexico many hundreds of miles south. I checked various city forecasts and came to the conclusion that if I could make it to Coeur D'Alene, Idaho I should be home free. The race was on.
I sped north, the Bighorn mountains tracing a wall to my left. I watched the skies over them for
some indication of the correctness of my action and was not disappointed. While the lower valleys I drove through as Wyoming turned into Montana were snow free, the peaks were completely socked in.
I felt no disappointment for skipping the wonder of Yellowstone and the serenity of a cabin in the valleys of the mountains. I was now fully committed to skipping those things, but my race gave me a sense of purpose that drowned out any remorse. Plans are plans, and I'm good at making them. But even better yet is having a firm sense of what needs to be done. Filled with resolve, I'm also filled with a sense of being alive. This then is the goal. Know what you're doing, and do it.
Only, remember that bit about me not being too bright? About half an hour into Montana, one comes to the Little Bighorn river, site of one of the greatest Indian victories (or tragic American losses depending on your POV) of the great Indian wars of the 1860s and 70s. How could I not stop?
The Great Sioux Nation was one of the last Native American groups to resist American expansion. Starting in the 1860s they fought a series of wars against the US government. An attempt to resolve conflict, the treaty of Fort Laramie of 1868, failed for various reasons. The result was a renewal of conflict between an alliance of the Sioux, Cheyenne, and Arapaho and the US government aided by various tribes that were enemies of the Sioux, notably the Crow and Arikara. This is known as the Great Sioux War of 1876-77. In late June of 1876, a regiment of the 7th Cavalry under the command of General George Armstrong Custer, an accomplished cavalry commander and Civil War veteran, came across a huge Indian alliance camp in a valley of the Little Bighorn river in what is now south central Montana. Although Custer commanded only about 600 soldiers, auxiliaries, and scouts; he decided to attack the encampment of around 5-7 thousand Indians, including some one to two thousand warriors. The encampment included some of the most effective leaders of the Sioux and the Cheyenne, including Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, Gall, and Lame White Man.
Custer divided his command in the face of a numerically superior foe. They teach you not to do
this at West Point. But if you do and succeed anyway, like Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson had some 12 years before, you become the stuff of legend. Custer would become legend in a different way. An initial charge by the smaller force of three companies led by Major Marcus Reno was rebuffed with losses. They were driven back to a defensive position on what is now known as Reno Hill and reinforced by the supply train under the command of Captain Fredrick Benteen. The Reno-Benteen force would attempt to relieve Custer's larger force, but were driven back by effective Indian movement and fire. What we know about the large force is based on archeological evidence, conjecture, and distant observations by Reno's men (notably a Crow scout named Curley), as nobody in that group survived.
Custer seems to have fought a running battle up to a hill about 3 miles away, now known as Custer's Hill or Last Stand Hill. They resisted various charges, taking heavy losses throughout. Now, down to just 41 troopers, he ordered the horses shot to form a defensive breastworks. How effectively organized the defense was is a matter of debate, but in any event he was completely overwhelmed within an hour. Faced with the imminent arrival of US reinforcements, Sitting Bull led the camp away the next day, having failed to overwhelm the Reno-Benteen position.
The battlefield historic park is sobering and, in my opinion, tastefully presented. The design was worked on both by the
Park service and various native tribes. Last Stand Hill has both a monument to the 7th Cavalry and the Indians who died in the battle. Some time after the battle a detail recovered the bodies of fallen cavalrymen and buried them in a mass grave at the site of Custer's Last Stand. Their locations were meticulously noted, and the battlefield is littered with white markers denoting the position of each soldier's body. The overall impact gave me a tremendous insight into how the day's events unfolded, as well as sense of respect for the people who fought on both sides.
Holy cow! Did I just spend two hours here? Am I trying to get stranded alone in a mountain pass blizzard? Donner, party of five, your table is ready. Only I won't have anyone else with me if it comes down to cannibalism. No time for further stops. Just push on, only pausing to feed the car. Montana is a kingdom of great valleys nestled amidst countless mountain ranges. It goes for hundreds of miles. Towns are far between, but are respectable sized centers of ranching, mining, and agriculture when you come to them. Billings, Bozeman, Butte, and
Missoula are all knocked out in course. The skies above the valleys are now shrouded with gray clouds pregnant with winter snow. As I finally climb up into the Bitterroot mountains, night has fully fallen.
At times of heightened tension, your senses kick into overdrive and little things take on significance. I switched the car's computer away from the speedometer and over to the external thermometer. I saw the reading tick down from the low 40s to below the freezing mark. Was that a snowflake? Why can't I get any weather report on the stupid radio? Is the light flashing on that "winter weather conditions" roadside sign? Why haven't I seen any oncoming traffic for the last three minutes? At last, maybe a few hours before the snow, I saw the sign for Lookout Pass, elevation 4710 feet. I rolled west on the downslope, knowing I had made it. A beer at the Coeur D'Alene Best Western was my prize.
The next morning is the final sprint. Coeur D'Alene is only 15 miles from Spokane, the eastern port of entry to Washington. Roll on, Columbia, roll on: I'm home. Descending from the mountains, I drove through the duststorms and fields of winter wheat dotting the Palouse, the great cold desert that makes up the eastern half of Washington. This is the part of the state they don't put on postcards, but it has its picuturesque charms nonetheless. The fine wind-blown silt here covers the few trees and scrubby bushes, making them appear ashen and skeletal. I
drove past the exits for towns I have never visited, but whose names are familiar due to their proximity to Seattle: Pasco, Coulee City, Moses Lake. With each exit it felt more and more like home. Across the great gorge of the Columbia, the cascade mountains appeared in the distance and I saw my first douglas firs in five weeks. I flew through Snoqualmie pass to a homecoming of a final stop, presented by my friends Sara Buckwitz and Ben Pollman. They live in Issaquah, a scant ten miles up the plateau from my home in Seattle. The last little push is exhausting but uneventful. Finally, I'm truly home.
It only remains now to document these last legs and to put the trip into perspective. Did I accomplish my goals? Can I even articulate them? This will come to me by and by. I have confidence and I have hope.
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