It’s hard for me to verbalize, but there’s something about floating down a river’s current in an unmotorized boat which just connects with who I am at deep levels. It has nothing to do with whitewater rapids or excitement — it’s pure appreciation of natural beauty and the power of the river. I fondly remember many river trips with my dad from childhood and I love the way a certain combination of paddle strokes will push the boat this way and that, using the river’s power, rather than overpowering it.

Today, my dad, my brother-in-law, Scott, and I took one of the most beautiful and serene canoe trips I’ve ever experienced. Nothing particularly challenging, especially for the river-wise skills my dad now commands, just calm peaceful floating down a beautiful river.

For once, I didn’t do much paddling. I spent nearly all of my time during our 9-mile trip down the Missouri river taking photographs and just enjoying the ride. We started very near the beginning of the Missouri in Headwaters State Park, and floated down to a little campground called Fairweather.

We started at a crisp 5:30 am, with a quick swing through McDonald’s for breakfast, and then about thirty miles of driving to reach the river. The standard procedure on a float like this is to drop the boat off at the start, or ‘put-in’ point, drive the boat-carrying vehicle (my dad’s pickup) down to the end of the float along with another vehicle, and leave it parked. Then drive back in the second vehicle to the starting point. Park the second vehicle, then everyone piles into the boat, floats down to the ‘take-out’ point, where we load the boat onto the truck and all ride back up, picking up the other vehicle on the way home.

We floated the river in a few hours, but to be honest, I completely lost track of time. What I knew — it was too short. Due to the regional fires, there was a low haze in the air, which added a painterly quality to everything. Everywhere I looked, it was soft, subtle and beautiful. We saw red-tailed hawks, deer, herons, kingfishers, and many other river birds. Not to mention some gloriously quiet scenery. Follow the link below to see the slideshow of photos taken from the trip.

Floating the Missouri River (32 photographs).

My memory sucks. Or I used to be in better shape… or some of both.

However, I did correctly remembered that this is a relatively short hike to nearly 10,000 feet with some beautiful views from the top.

I did forget nearly everything I knew about what to bring on any Montana hike.

We had spent the previous night at the Silver Forest Inn, a bed and breakfast in the Bridger canyon, and we made arrangements with our host as to when we would be back to eat our breakfast.

“Oh, I think it will take us a couple hours. It’s about 7:45 now, I’d say we should be back to eat around 10:30,” I said.

Our hostess replied, “Well, if I don’t see you at that time, I’ll just put your breakfast in the oven to keep it warm.”

I wondered if she knew something we didn’t.

To get to the trailhead, we drove up the beautiful Bridger canyon road, which runs behind the range on the east side. Our bed and breakfast was already halfway up the canyon, so it was a short drive up to the turnoff where we turned off the highway onto the logging road which goes up to Fairy Lake.

This is a terrible road, and our Honda Odyssey got a little nervous as we asked it to go up and down over huge ruts and boulders (well, rocks anyways) on the way up. It took us about forty-five minutes to make the seven mile drive from the turnoff to the parking lot. With a better car, it would have been a little easier. Maybe this is why every other car in Bozeman is a Subaru Outback.

But it was worth it! Just a half-mile from the parking lot are the incredibly clear waters of Fairy Lake. Katie and I spent a few minutes soaking up the mountain scenery here before heading up the trail to the peak.

The beginning of the trail cuts through the forested hills, along a dirt and rock trail which is, at times enclosed by the surrounding greenery, and at other times, nice and open. Its steep enough to require a couple rest stops at nice viewpoints. Many of the switchbacks have clear views of hills and meadows running along the eastern side of the mountains.

We saw some squirrels and birds, along the way, but nothing else. We were both huffing and puffing a bit, but we wrote this off to our unfortunately low-altitude blood, given that we’re such flatlanders now.

About a mile in, the trail empties into a rocky bowl shaped valley which makes its way up to a big rockfield which lines the side of the saddle between Sacagawea and Hardscrabble peaks. Here is where we met the wind.

We began to notice a chilling and steadily increasing breeze sweeping down the valley from the saddle. Katie put on her little sweatshirt, and I tossed on my second thin t-shirt. I might have remembered to bring something — anything — with long sleeves.

The walk continued to go up at an increasingly steep pitch, and now there was the occasional loose shale boulder patch to cross. The trees in this valley are short and scarce, so we could easily see the whole trail cutting across the valley up to the base of the saddle.

We pressed on.

At the base of the saddle, the boulder field begins in earnest. From here, there’s no more packed dirt trail. Nothing but a trail across the top of big loose rocks which switchbacks from one side of the saddle to the other. It was pretty treacherous walking and the wind was continuing to pick up. We kept going, until we reached the top of the saddle, which would give us our first views over the mountains to the west side. We felt the first few drops of rain.

WHOOSH! Immediately upon hitting the top of the saddle, the previously strong wind turned into a gale right in our faces! My uncovered arms were chilled to near-ice levels and I was beginning to be pretty uncomfortable. Katie had wrapped her hooded sweatshirt around her head, and was doing her best to stay warm. It was only the steep uphill hiking effort which was keeping us both a little warm, but the slight touch of rain seemed to have passed.

We passed another family coming down at this point. I couldn’t help but notice that they all had hats, long pants and sleeves. What I would have given for sleeves! We walked along the saddle to the south making our way for the switchbacks which would take us up to the top of the peak. We managed to find a small, but sheltering rock to hide behind for a few minutes. We warmed up a bit and had… some water.

Did I mention that we failed to bring any snacks? We were both starving by this point, since we had skipped breakfast, opting for only the nutritious starter of two cups of coffee each! By this time, we really could have used something more along the lines of a HUGE SANDWICH.

Nevertheless, we pressed on.

The trail winds its way to the south across a grassy hilltop towards the base of the peak, where it begins switchbacking up through larger and larger rocks towards the top. It also begins to get much steeper.

Despite the cold, the wind, the hunger and the steepness of this ‘easy walk’ I begin to notice the beautiful scenery. The views from the saddle and higher are simply breathtaking. The Gallatin Valley stretches out below to the west, the beginnings of the line of the Bridgers run off to the south. To the east from the saddle, the meadows and fields below the mountains sprawl out towards the Crazy mountains far off in the distance, and to the north, its the imposing Hardscrabble peak — the next peak over from Sacagawea.

We continued pressing back and forth, and up and up. As the trail continued switching back and forth, and we neared the very top, Katie kept complaining about the switchbacks.

“The top is right there! Why does the trail have to keep going back and forth like this?! Let’s just go up!”

Then she realized that even on the much less-steep switchbacks, we were both having to stop to rest every 20 to 30 feet. It was going seriously uphill now!

Then… finally… we made it!

The top of Sacagawea is small — perhaps the size of a small room, and is entirely made of sharp broken rock. Looking off the north side of the peak is a 1,000 foot cliff which falls nearly all the way back down to Fairy Lake.

Neither of us got too close to the edge. There’s something about a huge cliff that just seems to pull you towards it and tip you over. Plus, the strong gusts of wind made us both a little nervous.

I signed the log book, we took a bunch of pictures, and just enjoyed being on top.

Around this time, the wind died down and the sun began to peek out, warming us both nicely. We were still hungry, and maybe a bit windblown, but the views were incredible and the weather was improving.

Looking south, the entire Bridger Range stretches out like a bony arm, to fade into the smoke and haze. There’s something about being up that high that’s just not like anywhere else in the world. The air itself (even when its not smoky) is somehow ‘different’ from normal air.

After some time, we eventually decided to head back down. The trip back was nicer than the trip up with less wind, although going down the steep rock field proved to be a good workout for our knees and ankles. Again, something we didn’t have — boots with good ankle support. Our tennis shoes weren’t quite right for this hike.

My original estimate for our return time: 10:30 a.m.

Actual return time: 1:45 p.m. Ugh.

Thankfully, the breakfast (and lots of it) was still warm in the oven. Katie and I plowed into that food like there was never going to be food served again. It was delicious — all the more so, for how hungry we were. Eggs, sausage, fruit, coffee, juice — we ate it all!

Sacagawea Peak (9,665 feet. Highest peak in Bridger Range)
Distance: Roughly 4 miles, round trip
Elevation Gain: 2,000 feet
Tips: Bring snacks and sleeves (and boots)