A Float Trip Down the Upper Missouri National Wild and Scenic River
Submitted by Dave on Fri, 10/17/2008 - 01:27.
Planning the Trip
We planned to canoe the lower section of the Upper Missouri National Wild and Scenic River, which is now included within the Upper Missouri River Breaks National Monument, over the 2008 Labor Day weekend. The monument is managed by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM). The trip was one of many planned this summer by the Medicine River Canoe Club, based in Great Falls, MT. Our friends, Noel and Sandy, were co-leaders for the trip. The plan was to launch on Friday at Judith Landing (mile 88) and to take off the river the following Monday at James Kipp Recreation Area (mile 149), which is the end of the wild and scenic river. Considering day 1 would be shortened by having to run the shuttle and day 4 by having to drive home, a 4 day trip would allow for an easy float.
The section of the river we are doing is entirely class I water, so it is suitable for beginners. However, you cannot go unprepared. The area is very remote, and weather can throw you a curve. If someone gets hurt, help is a long way off. There is no cell phone service. There are rattlesnakes, and there can be almost intolerable mosquitoes, gnats, ticks, and other pests depending on the time of year.
This lower section of the wild and scenic river is not as popular as the White Cliffs upstream. About 75% of the floaters canoe the White Cliffs area from Coal Banks Landing (mile 41) to Judith Landing (mile 88). Maybe that is because Lewis and Clark wrote so eloquently in their journals about the White Cliffs when they passed through on their epic journey in 1805.
We think those floaters are missing out on a great section of the river. Maybe it is the very fact that fewer people use the lower river that we like it better. Only about 1,200 people float this section over the course of an entire season, so you know you will have solitude. Or maybe it is the interesting geology, with the rock formations contorted by folding and faulting that attracts us. And maybe it is the fact that we always see bighorn sheep along the river. There are also some logistical reasons why this section may not get the level of use that the White Cliffs get; the shuttle is long.
At any rate, only two other canoe club members expressed interest in going along. Wayne and J.J. were going to meet us at the launch site to unload all the gear. Then we would drive the vehicles to the take-out, where we had arranged to meet a friend who would give us a ride back to Judith Landing to begin the float.
We had been watching the weather forecast, as trip leaders should, to see what conditions we might encounter. Sure enough, the river gods were trying to play mind games with us. The forecast was for sunny and hot conditions the first two days, with high temperatures around 90°. But then the weather was going to change. The day-3 forecast called for clouds and increasing chances of rain; day 4 was to see a precipitous drop in temperatures, with highs only getting into the upper 40° range, and rain being continuous. Now granted, temperatures in the upper 40° are not super cold. But combined with wind and rain, it can be bone-chilling.
Because of the predicted cold front moving through the last day, Wayne and J.J. decided to bail out of the trip the night before we were to launch. Now, being trip leaders with no one to lead, and having already loaded all the gear and planned the meals, we decided to take the trip anyway. Our concession to the weather gods was to cut the trip a day short to avoid the cold temperatures and to cut the trip 14 miles by launching at the Stafford Ferry (or McClelland Ferry, depending from which side of the river you approach) instead of at Judith Landing. This would leave us with 47 miles to go over 3 days.
We regretted shortening the trip, as the float from Judith Landing to the ferry is very scenic. In fact, we like it better than the last few miles of the trip. But logistics and time were now dictating what we should attempt.
Preparing to Launch
On day 1, we drove to the ferry landing and off-loaded our gear.
As we were loading the gear on the canoes, a lone kayaker, accompanied by her dog lying in the cockpit with her, came down river. Janet said she lived near Spokane, WA. She had put in at Three Forks, MT, at the head of the Missouri River, and she was being picked up by her husband who would meet her at her take out at Fort Peck Dam. We don't know how many river miles this is. It is about a 200 mile drive by car from Three Forks to Fort Benton, without considering all of the meanders in the river; it is another 149 river miles to paddle the wild and scenic section of the river; and it is about 120 miles as the crow flies to finally cross the Charles M. Russell National Wildlife Refuge and Fort Peck Reservoir to reach the dam. This was a pretty long journey she was taking.
We marveled at her moxie. Her trip had required portages around Canyon Ferry, Hauser, and Holter Dams, and around the town of Great Falls, MT (and the water falls, now with dams, for which it is named). From the time she left Fort Benton at the head of the wild and scenic section of the river until her take out, a distance of at least 250 miles, there is no place to get water or food. If you get in trouble, it isn't a simple matter of going ashore and calling it quits. In most places, you are miles and miles from any help.
The concern we had for ourselves was that head winds might force us off the river, which might extend our trip, leaving us on the river during the predicted cold spell. Heaven forbid if we should miss a meal by having to take a layover day. Our self-concern pales in comparison to the challenges she was undertaking. She is going to cross Fort Peck Reservoir at some time, which can be deadly if you get caught out in high winds. We hope she has a GPS unit in case of low visibility.
We have to admit to embarrassment at comparing her meager gear to our canoes. We are fully loaded to the gills with chairs, folding tables, water, coolers full, portable toilet, awning, 2-burner stove, self-inflating mattresses and pillows (with pillow cases).
She is in a kayak. The dog food alone must take up most of her storage space. We wonder how she can possibly carry enough food and water for her and her traveling companion. She says she eats a lot of Top Ramon. We asked about her water supply. She said she was filtering river water. We are not ready to make that sacrifice. Filters take sediment and bacteria out of the water and make it look clear, but they don't take out the chemical pollutants, such as arsenic, that occur in the Missouri. We can only conclude that arsenic poisoning makes you do strange things - like canoe and kayak.
She continues on, and we wonder if we will cross her path again.
She would be the last person we would see for the remainder of our float (though we did hear a motorcycle at mile 132 near the site of the old Power Plant Ferry).
Day 1
We launch, but Dave has planned a little ritual.
James Willard Schultz came to Montana as a teenager in the 1870â€(tm)s. He married an Indian woman. In 1901, they floated down the Missouri. He wrote about the trip in several installments, which were finally brought together in book form in 1979, entitled Floating on the Missouri. His wife had some trepidation about the trip. As they got in the boat, he heard a splash. Without acknowledging it, he knew she had dropped an offering to the spirit of the water. Then she said a prayer to the people of the depths.
In honor of them, Dave read about their launch from the book, and he emptied the contents of a bag of tea into the river. (Native Americans use tobacco as an offering, but we don't smoke.) Dave implored the river gods, especially that one who controls the wind, to take pity on us. A tail wind would be kind, but a head wind would be the unkindest cut of all. We want to make sure we can get off the river before that cold front comes, with its accompanying rain and wind.
The offering must work. We have a tail wind.
Because of the shuttle, we don't launch until shortly after noon. We only travel a mile and a half to McGarry Bar to have lunch. There are precious cottonwoods to shield us from the sun and the near 90° heat. Lewis and Clark camped at McGarry bar on May 27, 1805. It is a nice primitive campsite with a fire ring. For the Lewis and Clark bicentennial, BLM has placed a commemorative marker at the campsite.
After lunch, we proceeded on (to plagiarize a phrase used repeatedly by Lewis and Clark in their journals).
Even though the sun is hot, the water is surprisingly cool. Because of the tail wind, there were many opportunities to open the umbrella, which we use as a sail. You can feel the boat accelerate when the umbrella catches the wind. It looks like crap, but there is no one else to be bothered by it. We have the entire river to ourselves, except for the kayaker who has disappeared downstream ahead of us. We are surprised that the current and wind, even without the umbrella, are moving us faster than we expected; we are making about 5 miles per hour.
While having lunch at McGarry Bar, we noticed fresh cow pies. They shouldn't be here, because cattle are not supposed to be in this riparian pasture during the hot summer months. Hot season grazing is very detrimental to riparian vegetation. Since livestock were taken off the pasture in the summer, willows and cottonwoods are being reestablished.
As we paddle downstream, we find the culprits. Stretched out over 7 miles downstream from McGarry bar, there are 75 head of cattle in trespass on the south bank. This is tough country to keep cows away from the river. Just like people, they like the water and the cool shade offered by the riparian vegetation (which they ironically destroy by grazing it).
Nevertheless, if livestock operators want to continue to use these areas, they need to be extra diligent about managing their livestock to ensure they stay out of the riparian areas during the hot season. We take notes so we can report the trespass to BLM when we get back home.
We have never floated this lower section of the river without seeing bighorn sheep. We are not disappointed. Dave spies the first one on river right along the top of a ridge. After that, Arlene spies a ewe with two lambs on river left. A little later, she sees a herd of about 20 on river left. She is an eagle eye when it comes to spotting wildlife. The trip can now be declared a total success.
We checked out the Middleton homestead cabin as a possible place to camp overnight, but it does not have easy access for hauling all our gear up the bank. So we proceed on, looking for a place the BLM calls Lone Cottonwood at about river mile 120 on the left.
At Lone Cottonwood, there are several cottonwoods. (Why is it called Lone Cottonwood?). We set up camp, had dinner, and enjoyed the solitude and beauty. This is a primitive site without the physical amenities of picnic table, fire ring, water, or toilet. We can't build a fire because stage 1 fire restrictions are in effect, but it is warm enough anyway that one is not desirable. However, the site has natural amenities aplenty. As it got dark and shadows were cast on the cliffs along the opposite shore, one of the planets (Venus or Jupiter?) became the first bright orb visible in the night sky. There was no moon; so by the time it was dark, the Milky Way was again in full bloom. City dwellers have long ago been deprived of the night sky. We have read that you can see about 5,000 stars with the naked eye, but we recall how Carl Sagen used to refer to there being billions and billions of stars. We must be looking at that many now. It is incredible.
There are also none of the noises associated with modern living. The only sound is the water, the wind, the birds and insects. We are miles from anything.
BLM does not recognize light and noise pollution in its management of the monument. It says they are not valid resources. That is a shame. Its proposed management plan for the monument will allow for motorized watercraft to be on this section of the river for 3 days each week in the summer (though they are restricted to no-wake speed in the downstream direction only). At other times of the year, motors are allowed. That is a shame too. BLM caved in to the lobbying of outfitters who seldom take customers on this part of the river but who wanted to retain the possibility.
It has now cooled off to the perfect temperature for sleeping. We open the tent as much as we can (our tent model is named Room with a View) and watch the stars before falling asleep. Sleep is interrupted three times during the night by the yipping of coyotes. We wonder if they are talking to each other about coyote things, or talking about us being in their home.
Day 2
On the second day, we have cloudy weather and no tail wind. We only need to go 16 miles to our next campsite, called Hideaway. We pass Gist Bottom where Bullwhacker Creek flows into the Missouri. BLM wants to keep the dirt road down into this remote area open, so they keep maintaining it. The road is treacherously steep and should be closed for safety reasons and to preserve the primitive character of this area.
Along the way, we pass a sign on private land at Cow Island Landing that says For Sale, 400 Acres in Small Lots. There is a lot of history associated with this site. For one, the Nez Perce National Historic Trail passes through here. This land should be in public ownership. Development would destroy the character of the wild and scenic river and the monument. Where is the Monkey Wrench gang when we need them?
As we approach our lunch site at Woodhawk campground, we can hear a motorcycle on river left near the old Power Plant Ferry location. (Other than an aircraft that we heard overhead this morning, this is the only human noise we would hear on the entire trip until getting near the bridge at the take-out.) The road down to the old ferry location is a county road. But it had not been maintained for years, so this area had been difficult to access. In order to assert its right when it felt threatened by the possible designation as a national monument, however, the Phillips County Commissioners had the road bladed. Now that the area is more accessible, people have been carting off the old bricks that were used in constructing the old power plant. Good-bye historical site.
We have lunch at Woodhawk campsite. We are bothered considerably by gnats. We eat in a hurry to get away from them. The gnats follow us the last 6 miles to our camp. We don't pay attention to the river and get hung up on a gravel bar where we have to drag the canoes a short distance. We hit a head wind. We remember that we offered nothing this morning to the river gods. (Mental note: tomorrow, when we surely hope we don't have a head wind on the last 13 miles of the journey, make an offering to the gods. We would hate to get blown off the river by a head wind and get caught out in that predicted cold spell.)
When we get to our intended campsite at Hideaway, there are several cows along the shore. The Malta BLM office apparently didn't get the memo about hot season grazing making it impossible for riparian areas to achieve proper functioning condition. When they prepared the watershed plan for this area a few years ago, they allowed hot season grazing. Hopefully the monument managers will find a different way to manage livestock and protect riparian areas. Given conditions on the ground, it will be a delicate balancing act.
Hideaway is another primitive site with a fire ring as its only amenity. We wonder why we are trying to have amenities like fire rings, as we are carrying everything but the kitchen sink with us.
The gnats have found us. We spend a miserable afternoon and evening. We wolf down dinner. We retire to the protection of the tents by around 8:00 pm. That is way too long to stay cooped up in a tent.
It rains a little, and the wind blows all night long. Dave finds it hard to sleep. He worries about having a head wind tomorrow. He worries about limbs falling off the trees onto our tents; he worries about entire trees falling onto us. How can everyone else sleep so well?
Day 3
We get up at 6:00 am, eat a hasty breakfast, and pack up the gear with a minimum of the normal things we do in the morning, like brushing our teeth. We want to get moving in case we have a head wind. We remember to make another offering of tea to the river and wind gods.
It works again. It is cloudy, but there is no wind, and the water is like a mill pond. (Another mental note: we are going to take tea bags on all our future canoe trips.) It is cool, which makes for more pleasant paddling. Damn, we forgot to say anything to the insect gods. The gnats are still with us, but at least they are not feasting on us like the afternoon and evening before.
We see two eagles at different places along the river. At first, we think they are golden eagles by the coloring. That is surprising, as we would not expect to see golden eagles in this environment. Farther downriver, a bald eagle flies over our heads. We conclude that the first two golden eagles were actually immature bald eagles. We see a heron. We wonder why we have not seen any pelicans, a.k.a, the Missouri River Air Force. Do they prefer the upper part of the river where we did not paddle, or because fall is approaching, have they started migrating back down river?
There is something swimming across the river ahead of us. We decide to paddle fast to get closer. It is a beaver. She turns downstream, but we are gaining on it. Finally, she leaps out of the water, smacks her tail on the surface, and disappears below us. Is Jaws about to resurface under our pathetic craft, upset us, and deliver us to the people of the depth? She resurfaces again, but off to our right about 10 yards. She swims along side us for a while, and then submerges, never to be seen again by us.
Cottonwoods have been disappearing from the river. If the trend continues, it won't be too long before they are gone. This will be a sad condition from both an ecological and a recreational perspective. Some people blame the beaver for the disappearance of cottonwoods along the river. There is no single reason for the lack of regeneration of cottonwoods. Instead, a combination of geology, damming, hot season grazing, and ice jams are creating the situation. Beaver take some trees too. But if the riparian zone was healthy, there would be plenty of trees for the beaver and plenty left over. BLM is slowly working to address hot season grazing. Progress is being made, as there are now areas with willows and cottonwood saplings where none existed a few years ago. But more needs to be done. The only factor BLM can really control is the hot season grazing. Control the cows. The beaver are a red herring. Leave the beaver alone.
We keep up a steady pace of paddling until we see Robinson Bridge, near our take-out at James Kipp Recreation Area. We drift the last mile to the boat ramp in a vain attempt to avoid the trip's end. Once at the boat ramp, however, we hurry to pack up the gear, as the gnats are bad here too.
Lo and behold, the lone woman kayaker whom we saw the day of our launch walks up to us. She is staying here for a couple of nights but intends to launch tomorrow. We remind her about the storm that was predicted. We hope she stays put for a third night to wait out the storm, although she would have to endure the unmerciful gnats. After picking her brain about what sort of food she takes on a trip like this, we take pity on her and give her some of our leftover food. We don't think we could survive on what she has.
On the drive home, we resolve to come back next summer to float the section from Judith Landing to the Stafford Ferry that we eliminated from our trip this year. Even though we weren't filtering river water to get our supply of drinking water like the kayaker lady, somehow that arsenic must be getting in our systems anyway, making us do strange things like canoe and kayak.
We are grateful that we won't be on the river tomorrow if the weather is as bad as it was forecast to be.