The Missoulian
Missoula, MT, Sunday Morning, July 21, 1963
Big Muddy Changes Little in 158 Years
(Richard DonTigny makes his living as a registered physical therapist, but, like many other Montanans, his hobby is the out-of-doors. One of his favorite spots is the Missouri River breaks, a stretch of wildly beautiful cliffs and crags below historic Fort Benton. DonTigny's father Emil, a Havre resident, has made enjoyment and study of the breaks a lifelong hobby, and both are concerned over plans to flood the area by building a dam. The following story, written exclusively for the Missoulian by the son, is timely because of the controversy over whether to preserve the scenery and history of the area or flood it.)
By Richard DonTigny
Just 158 years ago to the day that Lewis and Clark toiled up this section of the muddy Missouri we were floating leisurely downstream, amazed at the abundance and beauty of the striking geological formations so aptly described by our famous predecessors in their journals.
We had put our boat in the river at the Virgille Ferry about 15 miles south of Big Sandy. Then, squeezing ourselves in among the sleeping bags, food, lanterns, stove, tent, cameras, maps, etc., we shoved off into the current, looking forward to three peaceful days without tots, traffic, telephones or television.
We lost very little time in shedding our shirts in the warm spring sun, and kept our cameras handy as the first of a myriad of rock formations came into view. Haystack Butte, the remains of an old house made of sandstone, the White Cliffs and LaBarge Rock were all carefully recorded with our cameras before we camped for the night just below the mouth of Eagle Creek (named Stone Wall Creek by Lewis and Clark), across from the big basalt mass of LaBarge made even more striking by the long high white sandstone cliffs on each side of it. After supper we visited the old Connelly Post Office site just a little ways up Eagle Creek from the Lewis and Carlk campsite of May 31, 1805.
Wind and Rain
Night brought with it some wind and about two hours of rain, but no discomfort to us comfortable in our tent. Morning seems to come earlier in the country than in town, and it was clear, fresh and invigorating. The cool earth, still damp from the rain, showed its gratitude by glowing with wild roses. The sun, vibrant and yellow on the cliffs across the river, warmed our camp and woke us early. Some wild mallards feeding near the shore quacked us alert. One member of our party, however, was a little less than appreciative when he was awakened at 5:30 a.m. "just to see some idiot ducks."
After a light breakfast of juice, pancakes, eggs, bacon and coffee we broke camp, repacked the boat and started downstream. Just a mile or so brought us to Fortress rock, a long sandstone cliff overlooking the river, and Castle rocks, several basaltic dikes running into the water, looking almost like man-kmade stone walls. One of the walls across the river had been bulldozed down by the Army Corps of Engineers to make a temporary road to sound the river for a possible dam site.
The Dam Plans
Several dams have been planned for this area although admittedly not needed for power, flood control, irrigation or water supply, but to be used as silt basins for Fort Peck Dam. This makes about as much sense as using them as underwater parks for scuba divers. There is also some talk about making this area into a park with roads, campgrounds, buildings and other "improvements." Personally I would like to see it left just as it is, a wilderness waterway with the only access by boat. There is very little in nature that man has ever improved upon, and I'd hate to see him try to improve the beauty already present here.
Wildlife is abundant throughout this region. Beaver, deer, eagles, Canadian honkers tending their young, a big pelican up from Boudoine, blue heron startled at our approach. Easing around a big bend, Citadel rock came into view next, standing high, dark and stern in the water. Prince Maximillian and his party wrote of having lunch here in 1833. It gave us all a little thrill to see these pages of history unfold as we drifted along and it caused no little concern to think that this whole fantastic area might be completely innundated just because some small group in Washington has an incomparable talent for spending money we don't have on things we don't need.
Fashioned by God
Germanic castles, Egyptian statues, modern mosaics, crypts and mausoleums, mosques and minarets are all here, all formed and fashioned by wind and main ... and the hand of God.
Hole-in-the-wall, sky bright through the cliff, and we were half way to the Judith river now. I suppose some "well meaning" group will vote to have it fixed some day and then plug it with concrete blocks. Cathedral rock is just below Hole-in-the-wall and you must look back up from downstream to see it.
We camped early the second night, near Steamboat Rock, just upstream from Dark Butte near the ruins of an old homestead cabin. Here the rusted form of an old sewing machine, there an old forge and bellows, an anvil -- these were a hardy, self-sufficient people who lived here. Their cabin, hand-hewn, stood leaning and tired last year and was finally laid to rest, honorably, by a huge ice jam last winter. Was it Frost who said "I think that for destruction, ice is also great and will suffice"?
After an afternoon of hiking, a quick bath and swim in the river refreshed everyone. We all chipped in our culinary talents to prepare an excellent supper of ham, mashed potatoes, green corn and coffee. Later in the evening on finding that we shared our camp site with a large family of field mice, we promptly put all of our chewables high on our folding camp table. We were pleased next morning to see a fat, friendly, five foot bull snake had moved in to keep the local mouse population under control.
Easing Off
Things moved a little slower Sunday, not that we were getting tired, but just reluctant to end our trip. We came next to the mouth of the Arrow River, for many years the site of a large Gros Ventre Indian summer camp. Picture squaws drying buffalo meat in the sun, dust swirling from horses' hooves and children's feet to settle on everything, smoky buckskin, cooking pots. An imposing precipice long and high dominates the river for several miles now. Lewis and Clark (we had a Clark with us too, no relation) tell of a buffalo run here, of Indians crawling over the dead and dying carcasses slicing off the choicest pieces of meat, hump and tongue leaving the rest to rot. Waste? Perhaps, but what would we do now if we still had 10 million buffalo roaming our plains?
Shrill whistles came from the south, and there was a wide meadow clipped short, full of mounds. Prairie dogs were fun to watch -- no varmint hunting here. Old graybacks and young pups; its wonderful to see them unmolested and unmolesting.
Back to the boat, and the Judith River came and went. It was the site of old Camp Cook and finally the P-N ferry. There was a little wait for the car and boat trailer to pick us up; time to think and remember and plan for next time.
John Evert and Gene Clark started the long drive back to Missoula and their jobs. Emil DonTigny, my dad, the main authority on the Missouri Breaks, and I headed back to Havre to clean up the equipment and get ready for next time.
We took the trip again last week by color slides -- and made more plans.