Thompson Falls, Montana

We got an early start out of Caldwell Friday morning, but we didn’t get here until about 6:30 – nearly 12 hours later.  Mostly, the day is a blur.  The Bitterroot Mountains block a direct route, so we swung west from Caldwell into Oregon, and north through Oregon and Washington before cutting back east through the skinny part of Idaho and back into Montana, not far from the Canadian border.  In Oregon our route followed the Oregon Trail, and it’s humbling to think about the hardships those travelers endured as we ride along in an air conditioned car with gas stations and rest areas everywhere we need them. We had a long pull over dry mountains before we descended into the broad, watered valley where Baker Oregon sits, and I thought of how the hearts of those early travelers must have lifted when they crested the last rise before that lovely valley and saw it spread below them. They would have seen that they still had more mountains ahead, but at least there would have been a break. As we wander all over the planet so effortlessly, I don’t think we can imagine the courage and determination of those pioneers.  Certainly, we face our own obstacles, but most of them don’t carry the risk of a poor choice ending in starvation.  And we surely cannot imagine the isolation they endured as we lament being out of cell service from time to time. I know the impulse to pick up and move, but I don’t think that impulse would have been strong enough to send me across an uncharted ocean or to follow a perilous wagon trail. But then, I think of the refugees fleeing Syria or South Sudan, putting themselves and their children into shaky boats to cross the Mediterranean to plead with countries hostile to them to give them shelter. Surely, they match the courage of the folks who left the stability of the east coast to settle the west.

The scenery along the way was mostly not memorable until we got back into Idaho. Turning east we got into a massive traffic jam outside Sand Point, and lost nearly an hour in stop and go traffic. But then we were rounding Lake Pend Oreille which is huge and stunningly beautiful. Forested mountains come straight down into the lake. The lake was carved by glaciers, and is among the five deepest lakes in the US. It is oddly shaped, with arms reaching into the mountain valleys and lovely bays.

South of the little town of Trout Creek, we turn off route 200. After five miles along gravel roads that rise and fall through the woods we reach the beautiful house where Jay’s sister Nancy lives with her daughter Marci and her husband Rick.  They share 20 wooded acres with Marci’s son Zach, his wife Leann, and their 9 year old red-headed son Cody. We had called and told them not to wait for us for dinner, but that fell on deaf ears.  There was a feast of steak, twice baked potatoes, asparagus, salad and root beer floats.

We have been welcomed warmly everywhere we’ve traveled, but in some ways this visit has been the most fun for Jay. His brothers were glad to see him and clearly enjoy spending time with him, but they’re quite a bit more taciturn than Nancy and Marci.  The stories haven’t stopped since we got here. Some of it is the fun of shared recollections, and some of it is filling in gaps in his knowledge of his family and its history. Nancy had planned an outing to mineral springs for us, but we were having such fun, and were so happy to be off the road, we opted to just stay home.  It was the perfect choice, a day of stories and laughter and leisure. For me, a day to get to know Nancy and Marci.

The house is full of dogs, company for Charlie. Cody is in and out visiting, with stories of his day.  He and Zach come in the afternoon, their hands stained, to tell of successful huckleberry picking. Leann is home schooling Cody,  a task she takes very seriously. But a lot of the best of his education comes with following his dad around. We had a little trouble with the trailer hitch, and the guys were all out there working on it.  Jay had set a padlock down on the bumper of the pickup, and when the guys were finished and starting to walk away, Cody said, you’ve got a padlock on the bumper (a loose item that might easily be forgotten and fall off).  It was a small incident, but it just revealed his alertness, his interest, and his eagerness to be a full participant in the work of men. This is how most children did most of their learning throughout human history.  They followed their parents, they shared the work, and they learned along the way.  There are great advantages to formal schooling, of course.  We learn things that can’t be learned that way, that greatly broaden our understanding of the world and ourselves. But watching Cody, I think of what we have lost by creating a structure in which the generations spend so much time apart.

It was a wonderful visit in Montana, one that will stay with me for a long time.