TRAVEL, PHOTOGRAPHY

The Bounties of the Bitterroot Valley, Montana

My A-Z of favorite travel destinations: B

The above photo is the view from the side of the road in Pinesdale, Montana, a tiny town in the glorious Bitterroot Valley of northwestern Montana. My mom and I found ourselves in the Bitterroot last May, after I dragged myself out of the house and decided I’d conquer my headache disability, at least for a couple of days.

The pain was great, but my spirits were equally high, for the Bitterroot has always seemed like a Promised Land to me. It was my first sight of Montana I got when I moved here in fifth grade. When I saw this land of pretty horses and snowy mountains, I decided I wanted to live here.

Back then, I assumed I’d be spending a lot more time in the Bitterroot than I actually have — barely any. The first stop on our journey, Florence, seemed as nearly as foreign to me as Florence, Italy.

Florence

Florence is the northernmost of the towns that thread through the Bitterroot Valley south from Missoula. The highway is quite busy with tourists and commuters, but the views are superb. There wasn’t much to the town itself, but we found a cute little sign along the highway advertising eggs for sale. The charm was merely a warm-up to what we’d find further south.

Stevensville

The Highway 93 corridor is pretty built up, with houses lining the way south from Florence until an exit road curves off and leads you through the beautiful May fields to Stevensville, where I remember playing in a varsity golf tournament in high school.

Stevensville displays the changes happening in western Montana downtowns, at least those on the tourist track. The gritty, blocky old buildings that have traditionally hosted bars, grills, and feed stores are now also home to trendy eateries, jewelry shops, and upscale clothing stores. Old-time residents are mixing with the well-heeled new.

Victor

Further on down the Bitterroot corridor is Victor, where hopping out of the car to take pictures was especially easy: Main Street is right next to the highway. The town has a population of only 745.

I always love finding stores that specialize in saddles. When the “Korner Korral” saddle shop in my old hometown in Idaho burned down when I was a kid, I was absolutely heartbroken. Victor’s saddle shop is built in a quintessential “Western” style that appeals to tourists, but it’s no mere tourist attraction: the Bitterroot Valley is chock full of working ranches.

Darby

Passing by Hamilton, where we’d be staying for the night, for one last photo run down the Bitterroot, my mom and I arrived in Darby close to supper time. Darby was founded in 1889, the same year Montana became a state. It’s in Montana’s far southwest corner, about as close to Idaho as you can get.

A town of 700 people whose Main Street is the highway, Darby is so “Western” that it seems set up for tourists: saloon, liquor store, taxidermy shop, with weathered wood buildings everywhere.

With my camera hanging around my neck, I felt like a tourist myself. I wanted to shout, “I’m a Montanan like you, I swear!” It’s one thing to seem like a visitor in a foreign country, but for people to think you’re an ignorant tourist three hours away from your home? Mortifying.

Hamilton

After spending the night in a discount hotel with paper-thin sheets, my mom and I awoke to explore Hamilton, the largest town in the Bitterroot Valley, with a population of 4,600. The city council had clearly put some effort into brightening up downtown — see the above clay flowers strung up on a tree, which could be found on every block.

After the small towns further north and Darby to the south, Hamilton felt like a bustling population center, with chain hotels, fast food restaurants, and the Ravalli County Fairgrounds.

Amidst the green fields outside of Hamilton was the Daly Mansion. Sadly, we found it closed to visitors, but the gates and area surrounding the grounds were exquisite. Its owner, the “Copper King” Marcus Daly who grew fabulously rich from the mines in Butte near the turn of the century, had it built in a European style.

The story goes that Daly founded Hamilton in 1890 because he was denied a business opportunity in a nearby town, so he built his own town out of spite.

Corvallis

After Hamilton, it was time to turn north and loop back up the Highway 93 corridor, hitting a couple of towns we’d missed on the way down because they were set a little bit off the highway.

I was thrilled to visit Corvallis, where we bred my Quarter Horse mare, Tanga, way back in 1998. At that time, I visited the breeding ranch twice to visit Tanga and see the father of her future foal, but I’d never been to the town proper.

We found an odd mix of Western feed stores, bars, cute little shops like Cowgirl’s Corner in the photo above, and decaying Victorian churches and houses still in use. The grand old house in my photo has been repurposed into a kindergarten.

I concluded that I didn’t want to stay in Corvallis long, because I found the surrounding fields much more attractive. Luckily, such beauty is exactly what I found in the area around Pinesdale.

Pinesdale

Pinesdale was perhaps the quirkiest town we visited in the whole of the Bitterroot. For one, where was the town? In the photo above is Main Street, Pinesdale. Really. No joke. I’m from a rural area and even I find that strange.

A little ways down Main Street from where I took this picture was a volunteer fire station and a post office for the people in the nearby farmhouses and forest cabins to pick up their mail. Off of an adjoining gravel road was an elementary school. And that was Pinesdale.

Gosh, I wanted to live there.

I did make a Pinesdale friend. This gorgeous Paint horse stood looking interested while I was taking photographs by the side of the road, capturing the farmland in its brilliant green cloak.

Lee Metcalf Wilderness

It was fitting to end our trip with another Promised Land — the Lee Metcalf Wilderness, which I’d been longing to visit for years. The Wilderness is home to thousands of birds in its open wetlands and, according to articles in our local paper that I kept coming across, is a spectacular place for photographers.

In our ignorance, we took a wrong turn and took the forest walk, where our only encounter with wildlife was a chipmunk. Still, I enjoyed the various shades of greens mixed with blood reds, and since my headaches were coming on with a vengeance after letting me walk and sit upright for the weekend, I couldn’t have gone far anyway.

A brief stroll in Lee Metcalf’s cool, fresh air was a fitting end to our whirlwind tour of the bounties of the Bitterroot.

Thanks for reading, and thank you as always to the editors at Globetrotters (JoAnn Ryan, Anne Bonfert, Jillian Amatt - Artistic Voyages, Adrienne Beaumont, Michele Maize) for keeping this wonderful publication running.

As you will have noticed, I’ve started “My A-Z of Favorite Travel Destinations” Challenge… beginning with B. I cannot stand doing anything in order, including writing, reading academic texts, and learning instruments step-by-step, so I hope you understand! My letters will be all over the place. I’m rather proud of myself for starting so close to the beginning of the alphabet.

Robert G. Longpré recently published his “R” article, including some stunning photos of birds. Check it out here:

Help! F. S. Lloyd has fed my hopeless Portugal obsession with his wonderful article about Porto. Read it here (heck, I already sent it to my mom):

— Erie Astin