Campfire

Each night, as the flames crackled and the smoke drifted into the darkening sky, the camp host, Sonny, and his beautiful dog Zilla would wander over and settle in by our fire. Zilla immediately launched into play mode, chasing Whiskey—Ben and Sherma’s dog—around the trees while Sonny stood quietly, sipping his nightly beer. For all three nights at Devil’s Elbow Campground, this became our familiar routine.

With a group of retired educators gathered around a fire, you can imagine the questions that came Sonny’s way. His answers were short and efficient—never too much, never too little—just enough to satisfy the curious minds in our circle. We learned he was originally from Thailand, that his parents had come to the United States on “the Golden Ticket,” and that they’d built a life for him and his siblings. He was 48 years old, though he looked much younger, and he planned to host at Devil’s Elbow for one more season before taking time to explore Asia and Europe.

While we peppered Sonny with questions, Zilla and Whiskey crashed through the brush, taking turns marking every tree and bush they could find. Zilla, a huge mixed breed—part Bernese Mountain Dog and part mystery—was clearly the dominant one, despite being female. Whiskey did his best to keep up, but by the end of each evening both dogs were worn out.

On our final night, Sonny and Zilla appeared as usual, but this time they came bearing gifts: bumper stickers commemorating our stay at Devil’s Elbow. A small gesture, but one that made the place feel even more special.

With Terry and Bill joining Sherma and Ben in camp, we had quite the artistic group. Bill and Sherma played guitar and ukulele in the afternoon sun, and our three lovely wives used their talents to create rock art for everyone to enjoy. We all took time to read, relax, and mostly sit around the fire chatting. Simple days, easy company, and a campground that gave us exactly what we needed.

As the fire settled into glowing coals and the river quieted for the night, I found myself thinking about how easily a simple campground can become a small community. Three nights isn’t long, yet it was enough for familiar faces, shared routines, and the easy comfort that comes when people fall into a rhythm together. Sonny with his quiet presence, Zilla and Whiskey with their nightly chaos, the music drifting from Bill and Sherma’s instruments, and the rock art our wives created in the afternoon sun — all of it blended into a trip that felt both peaceful and full.

Devil’s Elbow wasn’t a place of grand adventures or dramatic stories. It was a place where the days slowed down, the conversations stretched out, and the evenings gathered us around a fire that seemed to burn just a little brighter because of the company. As we packed up the last morning, I felt grateful for the small moments — the laughter, the dogs, the music, and the unexpected friendships that made our stay feel like more than just another stop along the river.

DB/AI

A Few Days at Huckleberry Campground

A couple months ago, Linda reached out to our friends Bill and Terri Burch, along with Ben and Sherma Higgs, and we all jumped onto the reservation website for Huckleberry Campground up the St. Joe River. Luck was on our side — we managed to snag campsites close to each other, and we wasted no time reserving them before anyone else could beat us to it.

The drive down was perfectly normal until we hit the stretch from the top of 4th of July Pass down to the Rose Lake turnoff. Road construction had funneled four lanes of traffic into two, and to make things interesting, they used those big cement dividers to separate the lanes. Nothing like a narrow concrete chute to keep you alert. I white‑knuckled the truck through the curves and traffic. Not the most relaxing drive, but we made it.

Huckleberry Campground wasn’t full, and we had a great site just across the driveway from the Burches. Ben and Sherma were a little farther away in their spot. I was able to go fishing twice during our stay. The first day the water was high but clear, and I fished a Green Drake fly with a #10 black stonefly dropper. I got lucky and hooked two really nice cutthroats and one kamikaze cut that was about six inches long. We arrived and ended the trip with a fish count of three real nice cutthroats and two little shakers.

Linda spent her time walking, reading, and catching up with our friends. After a couple days of rain, the weather finally turned around, and we all entertained ourselves with card games and tossing the cornhole bags. Simple fun, good company, and a quiet campground — hard to beat.

As the weekend wound down, I found myself appreciating the simple rhythm of it all — good friends, a quiet river, a few fish, and the kind of easy days that remind you why the St. Joe keeps pulling us back. Nothing fancy, nothing rushed, just time well spent in a place that always feels a little like home.

DB/AI

Big Creek Gathering

The morning we left on this trip was the first morning that I didn’t ride my recumbent for almost a week. It started to be a habit to get up, walk outside and find Steve, our neighbor, futzing with his new tricycle. We have been riding together and Steve is a very early riser. If I am not up-and-about by 7:00 AM, he is beeping my phone to get me going, asking where we are riding and when. It has been fun and I have really enjoyed the exercise. Now that I am riding, I have noticed that 2:00 PM has become my mandatory nap time. A good thing about that is that it has been in the high 90’s so sleeping is a good way to avoid those hot hours.

Flathead Lake

Our trek this week took us into Montana and north to a campground just outside Glacier National Park. Big Creek Campground has a large group camping site and two friends, Julie and Pat, reserved it after they visited the area and came up with the group camping idea.  We were invited along with a large number of our friends:  John and Loretta Sutherland, Tom and Sarah Husby, Mike and Caroline Beckwith, Ben and Sherma Higgs and several others. It looked to be an interesting week of boating, fishing, hiking and exploring.

Our caravan at Flathead Lake. 

We left Post Falls at about 10:00 AM on Saturday the 8th and drove over Lookout Pass into Montana. There was a lot of highway work being done which extended our driving time a bit, but I was OK with going the 45 MPH most of the way. This trip we were towing the Jeep with its load of recreational toys. We were packed for adventure! Our expedition gear included two mountain bikes, my fishing cat, and of course, Stinky Jeep. We brought along all my fishing gear, camp games, lounge lizards (reclining chairs), our outhouse tent, and everything but the kitchen sink. Oh, we have that in the camper.

Resting at Big Creek.

At St. Regis MT., we turned northeast on Highway 135 and followed the Clark Fork River.  Our plan was to grab a campsite for the Husbys and ourselves at Peninsula Campground for the first night. This did not work out and we had to drive on to a Forest Service Campground called Cascade.

Once we were all set up, Linda and I walked down a trail and crossed the highway to the river. We both took a swim and cooled off. While Linda sat out on the beach, I went up to the truck and grabbed my fishing gear.  As I fished, Linda relaxed. I caught a couple nice fish.

Sarah and Tom arrived and got their trailer set up. Tom and I went down to the river again and fished. I caught a real nice cutthroat; it measured in the 17-inch range.  The sun was setting and we called it a day.

The next day we caravanned up through Kalispell, MT to the Big Creek Campground where everyone would gather. Big Creek is located on the North Fork of the Flathead River. It is not in Glacier National Park, but the park is very close. It is a very good location for everyone to float, ride bikes, hike and explore the beauty of the park.

We arrived! The last 15 miles or so of the trip was over a very dusty washboard road. We drove the entire way at 10 to 15 miles per hour. It shook the truck so hard we figured everything in the camper would be on the floor when we arrived.

Tom and Pat telling tall tails.

At Big Creek group site, we chose our spot in the shade. It was about 3 PM when we got settled and the spot we chose looked like it would be shady most of the day. We chose correctly and all week we had shade to keep our camper cooler.

As the afternoon progressed into evening, people started arriving. We all took our chairs to a spot overlooking the river and welcomed each camper as they wandered in. Eventually, everyone separated and cooked their dinners. By dark, the area had cooled off and folks went to bed.

Using the Geezer Pass for the first time.

The next day Tom and I took his drift boat and fished from the Polebridge put-in (48.782600, -114.282375) back to our camp. It was a great float and we caught some really nice fish. Linda spent her day running shuttles for other boaters from our group and reading her book.

The second day in camp, Tom, Sarah, Linda and I drove into the park and tried to take the road up to Kintla Lake. Tom used his Wisdom Pass (Geezer Pass) entry into the park. It was his first official use of the new pass and we celebrated with photos and cheers.

We were informed at the park entrance that we could not get into Kintla Lake because it was already full. Changing plans, we drove the Inside North Fork Creek Road up to the washout at Logging Creek. It was a beautiful drive and the wild flowers were in bloom everywhere. 

Wild flowers were everywhere!

A highlight for all of us was our stops at the Polebridge Mercantile & Bakery. We bought very expensive bakery items and on our third day of fun, we even splurged for some $10.00 drinks from the saloon. Hey, it’s the experience that counts, right?

The next day Tom and I fished from Big Creek down river to Glacier Rim. Once again we caught some great Cutthroat Trout and Rainbows. Tom even accidentally hooked a Bull Trout which was huge! We carefully released it, making sure we didn’t touch it or remove it from the water.

While we were fishing, Linda, Sarah and Sherma drove up to Kintla Lake and explored that area. They got there early enough to snag a place to park.  All three agreed that it was a beautiful adventure and they had a wonderful time.

On the morning of the fourth day in camp, we got up early and went on what we called an early morning critter sightseeing drive.  We headed into the park in search of game. We saw the usual deer, rabbits, and squirrels. No bears, no cougars, no elk, just a lot of rabbits.

Our drive took us to Lake McDonald and up the Going to the Sun Highway. The drive is spectacular and I think you could never get tired of the views. We found a parking spot at Logan Pass Visitor Center (48.696059, -113.717791) and took a short hike. Sitting on a rock in the upper meadow was a large mountain goat, totally unconcerned by the people stopping to stare and take its picture. By the time we were ready to leave, the crowds had gotten huge. We loaded up for the drive down and Linda suddenly realized she had left the binoculars in the restroom. Off she scampered to see if they were still there. We got into the circling pattern of the parking space searchers and drove around and around waiting for Linda.

Sarah & Tom @ the Saloon @ Polebridge Mercantile & Bakery.

She returned empty handed.  There was nothing we could do but exit the holding pattern and head back down the mountain. We ended our trip with a drive into Hungry Horse for supplies, ice and huckleberry ice cream.

Back at camp we unloaded the rig and started dinner. Tom came over to Linda and handed her the binoculars. Turns out she had set them down in the back of the truck when she was petting Sal, Sarah’s dog, and Tom found them when he straightened up the back.

$10 drinks at the Saloon.

That evening I was beat. We had been going every day since we arrived and had not gotten to bed before 11:30 PM any night. Getting up early had done me in so I had to forgo the evening fireside and get some rest.

The next morning we loaded up, said our good byes and departed. We back over Thompson Pass avoiding all the chip seal work on I-90. It was a great week up at the group camp. This might just become an annual event. 

Kintla Lake

Sherma, Sarah and Sal.

Fishing the North Fork Flathead River.

Sunrise over the North Fork Flathead River.

Long days caught up with this guy.

Going to the Sun Highway vistas.

Goat.

Pterodactyl on the St. Joe

We had a perplexing start to our weekend trip up the St. Joe.  Everything was packed and ready and I jumped into the truck and tried to fire it up and nothing happened.  I had a bit of a turn over, but then nothing.  So being the diesel mechanic that I am I stepped out, scratched my head and looked at Linda. “Oh, oh!” was the best I could come up with.

View of St, Joe from my chair.

My next thought was, “Now what would Dad do at this point?”  I popped the hood latch and lifted the hood.  “Linda get the Jeep out, we might have to jump the truck!” As those words came out of my mouth I followed the cables to one of the two batteries - did you know there were two batteries in a diesel truck (another story) - and low and behold the battery was disconnected.  Both cables were off and not even close to touching the posts. “I think I found the problem! Someone has disconnected our battery; probably they were trying to steal them but got interrupted.”  I connected the battery and she fired right up.

We drove over to O’Reilley’s Auto because the check engine light was on and they tested the engine and told me nothing was wrong. The light was probably from disconnecting the battery.  We were ready to roll, but we could not figure out how the battery got disconnected. As we drove we talked about the past few weeks and here is what we came up with.

Two weeks ago I took the truck in and had the oil changed.  When I returned home I was talking to my neighbor and I noticed a wrench sitting up on the windshield wipers area.  I took it back to the auto repair place and thought nothing more about it.  Over the next two weeks I drove my truck only a couple times and it seemed to start a bit harder than usual.  I figured it was that the batteries were the original equipment from when the truck was new and I didn't really want to think about buying new batteries so I just hoped that I was just imagining the not starting quite right feeling.  The only thing that I can figure is that when we had the oil changed, they started working on the battery of my truck thinking that it was in for a battery change. They realized that some other rig was getting the new battery and stopped the process, but didn't reconnect the terminals and left the wrench on the truck hood.  After several starts on the one battery, it was drained and we were dead in the water until I hooked up the disconnected battery. 

Our weekend continued without a hitch.  We drove to the St. Joe and found two camping spots at Packsaddle Campground.  Ben and Sherma Higgs joined us there and we spent the weekend fishing and hiking around that area.  No real exciting reports other than the ladies spent most of their time trying to find sun to sit in and the boys floated flies over fish that were not hungry.

We had great evening fires and ate some very nice meals, enjoying the time up the river.  On the last night I went into the camper to read while the rest of the group sat around the campfire. Out of the night came a screech that everyone heard except me.  Linda described it as being a pterodactyl like screech. Ben said it was probably a Screech Owl.  When I got home I looked up Screech Owls and found that oddly enough they do not screech, they trill.  I did however check other owl sounds and found that there are three that screech like Linda heard.  I played the sound clips of each owl; the Great Horned Owl, Long-eared Owl and the Northern Saw-whet Owl and Linda said that they might be what she heard. I like the pterodactyl screech myself.

We returned home on Sunday, where Linda and I started packing for our next trip to Potholes State Park in Washington and then to the coast to visit Don and Caroline.  We can’t let grass grow under our butts you know.

Down Gold Creek to the Joe

Mid-week adventures are the best! You get to camp in places that on the weekends are packed and mid-week there is no one there! We drove east to St. Regis and then up over the pass down, following Gold Creek, to the Upper St. Joe River. Because we were looking for a camp site on a Monday, we found a great one.  There was shade, it was close to the river, and it had a clean outhouse!  What a find.

Ben and Sherma set up up river and we set up down river in a spot that could have held one more rig.  It didn't take long to get situated and in no time we were eating lunch and getting ready to fish.  We planned on trying to catch some Cuts and talked about maybe even landing an elusive Bull Trout. That would be fun!

Osprey across the river from camp.

Linda and Sherma set up their chairs and relaxed while Ben and I went up river to fish.  We found a spot and climbed down the bank to the Joe.  I had on a Stimulator with a black beadhead nymph as a dropper. I tossed it into the first riffle and boom I had a fish on!  It was going to be a great day!  I caught a couple more fish in that spot and then followed Ben down stream.  We did pretty good throughout the afternoon and returned home with a few good stories.

The stump is a salt lick so this dear visited every night.

Linda and I made dinner and then we all sat around the fire watching the night skies. The space station flew over and we watched its bright progress across the sky.  Stars were out bright and we talked while watching for satellites and shooting stars. Bed came early for the Bennetts, we are such wssies when it comes to bed time.

Then next day we went fishing again, this time down river.  We spent most of the day working the riffles and didn't do too bad.

Back in camp Ben cooked up a chicken dinner and we again watched the skies for space debris. Clouds came in and by the end of the evening we were seeing flashes of lightning.  The thunder lead the way of a couple of big storms during the night.  The second one brought so much rain and hail that we thought the top of the camper was coming in. Linda snuggled up close and we waited out the loud downpours. Once they passed we went back to sleep the sound of the river singing us back to our dreams.

Ben's Dutch Oven chicken dinner!

The next day we fished from camp.  Ben and Sherma went up river and I headed down.  I did real well considering the rain the night before. I used big sculpin patterns as I moved down river.  I imagine I could have done better on real small flies, but I didn't want to fight the tie them on my tippet.