“It’s Been Quite The Party”

September 17, 2018

Wow, in my last writing I wrote about the young lady I had developed a professional relationship with in a therapeutic setting. I still think about her from time to time and hope she is overcoming some of the social barriers that have inhibited her from being all she wants to be. Just recently, I've received news of good friends, some temporarily sick, a few terminally ill. That ain't good. I mean, these are folks that I've known a long time, through the good times and the not good times. Good friends stand the test of time, they don't come and go, even when the chips are down. I talked to a good ole cowboy bud of mine just a while ago. Me and Harry don't see each other much, maybe once or twice a year. But when we do, it's a good thing. I think my world wouldn't be as full if Harry weren't around. And for the record, he will be. His go round in the hospital is about over and in any case, he's a stubborn son of a bitch and on the mend. But I must be thinking about mortality a bit more than normal cause here I am writing about it.


So here I go again, writing about relationships, ones I've known, ones I've lost, and maybe those that are yet to come. I just got off the message system with an old high school mate, hadn't communicated with him for more than forty some years. I remember Doug pretty well. We played football together and I recall him being pretty damned smart. I think he went to one of them Ivy League colleges and became a physicist. He was asking for my comments on the Malheur Wildlife Refuge comedy and we exchanged a few thoughts on the matter. I gave him my take on the deal and he referred me to a couple pieces that he thought were worth reading. Now, here I am corresponding with one intelligent fellow and he's asking me stuff? I told him he'd always had me "out brained" by a large margin. And you know what? He told me he'd always enjoyed my writing, my style, and my normally thoughtful prose. Holy shit! I kid you not, I was speechless, and flattered. And most of all, he made my day. And so, here I am, inspired, writing, on a Saturday afternoon. I think, which is what I'm getting at here is, is that it doesn't take a whole lot to get us going. We need just a little help, just a little nudge, just a little encouragement, just a little kindness directed our way, to make our day. I doubt if I'm speaking solely for myself. We're all pretty similar when you get right down to it.


It's been thirty five years now since we opened the doors at Bear Creek Ranch. Talk about a journey. My life has been a journey, particularly when it comes to that little ranch and the way it's intersected with me at every curve, corner, and traffic light along the way. Marriages, children, life, and death, good times, not so good times, but through it all, the one constant, the relationships that I've known and the ones that I haven't but are still to come. We don't raise cattle at our place, we have raised more than a few horses, but really, what we've raised the most, are relationships with our guests, those that were, those that are, and those that are yet to come. I've thought on occasion that it would be nice to raise cattle. Hell, cattle don't talk back, don't take up your time when you've got something else on your mind, a project to complete, an errand to run. But you know what, I think I've come out on the right end on that one. I've had a fascination with people, and as I call it, the human condition, for as long as I can remember, And I still do!


It's been an interesting Saturday morning. I just got an e-mail from a fellow that worked at the ranch thirty years ago. Now where the hell did that come from, after all these years. I'd thought of Mike from time to time, not with total fondness and not without some as well. I suspect if we'd been the best of friends we'd have never lost track of each other. But there it is. I'll be seeing Mike this summer. He'll be a paying guest, which is one good thing, and we'll undoubtedly share some life, me and him. And that will pretty interesting. Did he ever marry the girl he loved so much back in 1988? Did he know of the girl I loved in 1988 and married in 1989? Does he have children? Does he know I have children? Oh boy, and there's more of course.


I've got to fill you in on another fellow, Frankie, who's been a guest at our ranch for three decades. He's been on hunts, pack trips, cattle drives, and ranch vacations with us. This past summer, he was here at the ranch twice, once with his wife and grandson, and later on in the fall, with his wife and another neat couple. Frankie worked for a big outfit in the Midwest for years and not months after retiring after forty years of hard work, was diagnosed with a rather serious form of cancer. He was sick during his vacation here in July and appeared stronger in the fall. This winter hasn't been kind to him and I find myself thinking about the fickle and often unfair nature of life.


Changing gears, there's the real good stuff out there as well. We've had three marriages at the ranch the past couple years and they've all been good stuff. I mean really good people getting married on just the perfect day, and a helluva good party afterword. I have a strong feeling that those marriages are all gonna' work. Hell, one of 'em was mine so there you go. I think the ranch, at times, has an almost mystic feel to it. Those weddings had it. "Into the Mystic."


There's so much more but before I wrap this up I want to tell you about Pat. Hell, most of you know him. Pat worked at the place more than thirty years ago, fresh out of high school somewhere on the East Coast. I'm not sure Pat had even graduated, not that it mattered. He was young then, just beginning, and stayed with us for a couple years. But there was something about Pat, even then. He had a quiet kind of ambition. And when he told me he was going to be building a Mexican Restaurant in his sister's older log home in East Glacier, I thought well, he's in for a rude awakening. Now remember, that's going back more than a few years. What the hell did I know? What the hell did Pat know? Well, he knew a helluva' bunch more than me! It wasn't long before he and his wife Renee had that old log building tore down and built up. And you know the rest of this story. Serrano's Mexican Restaurant is one of the most successful business's west of the Mississippi River. Those strawberry daiquiris and blended margaritas go down like none other. Pat toasted me with his personal stash of fine Tequila on my 60th birthday. As Augustus McRae, Texas Ranger, said, "it's been quite the party." And it all started at Bear Creek Ranch.

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The Glacier National Park can be a pretty busy place during the summer months. That comment is the understatement of the year. But if you’ve got the time to take an early vacation this coming season, I would heartily mention that the Park is a wildlife bonanza in May and June. Put aside the plans to visit during the very busy months of mid-Summer. Try late April and the month of May when the Park begins to show off its wildlife. As the snow melts and bare areas of grass and vegetation on south facing slopes expose themselves to elk, deer, moose, and both species of bear, black and grizzly, there is a unique opportunity to take advantage of the Spring season while it’s quiet and watch the wildlife world come alive. For years I have emphasized to our guests and visitors that there is no season that even remotely matches the joy of wildlife sightings that are visible in the Spring. My suggestions would be to stay at our place for starters and watch the elk in our back pasture. They are there right now! Not only are there elk feeding on early grass but with some glassing on the meadows above us you are also putting yourself in a great position to see grizzly bears. Additionally, last night I not only saw elk feeding on Mendenhall Hill but as I watched them, I could hear a pair of sandhill cranes cackling although they were out of sight. Those big birds are on a migration north to as far away as the Canadian prairies. They are a unique bird and not always easy to see. By the way, while you’re waiting and watching for other species there are migrating Canadian geese making lots of noise as well. I’ve seen coyotes putting on their classic moves as they sneak up on nesting or migrating birds. That is a show of nature that you won’t see every day. Those sighting however, take a backstage when a lone grizzly or a sow with cubs make their showing later in the evening. They are a confident and dominating mammal that are somewhat easily seen if the effort is there. Set yourself up a good distance from the bears and use your binoculars to watch them and do keep your distance between yourselves and the bear. I assure you if you can put in the time from dawn to dusk and are beginning to identify good habitat you will see grizzlies. I can’t emphasize enough how visually plentiful and how much wildlife is viewable with the right combination of Spring, habitat, and time of day. Glacier National Park and the Beck property are two great places to start your hunt! The Park is well known for its grizzly population and the population of the bears is growing and expanding its territory. At no other time in the year are there more good opportunities to see these animals If you are interested in staying at Bear Creek Ranch, we are open during the month of May. You might want to join us on our Bed and Breakfast program and on your way home in the evening eat a healthy meal at one of several restaurants along the way. Feel free to call us at 406-226-4489 anytime. We have lovely cabins that are still available.
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December 14, 2020
I remember doing the radio show in the nineties. The Hi Line Sportsman it was called. I did an anti-environmental commentary for five to ten minutes a couple times a week. Back in those days I was a pissed off permittee of the Unites States Forest Cervix, and pissed off and pissed on I was. Truth be known, I did most of the pissing and in fairness to the whole deal I was, how should I put this, given a whole lot of latitude. But that was then and this is now although I do recall taking lots of shots at the University of Montana or as I not very fondly referred to it as "the school of nuts and raisins." Between the professional apparatus at the U pumping out up and coming bureaucrats into the system and my inability to survive as a servant of that mentally vacuous machine I lost the war. I still get pissed off thinking about that but time does have a way of softening past blows and things change. Like, here I am, in Missoula, Montana, a bunch of years later (doing graduate work) and it ain't as bad as I thought it might be. Granted, I'm not ensconced in the bowels of the school of natural resources every day listening to the drivel of the environmental aristocracy lecturing to their worshiping, brainwashed pupils. Thank God. Truth be known, I do have relapses of PTSD as I work my through the smattering of mare hippies waiting for their sushi and latte in the UC cafeteria. I can smell 'em a mile away. That said, I've mellowed, I can live with 'em, at a distance! I shudder to think they'll be part of that corporate natural resource intelligentsia, that part of which is still so foreign, and yes, repulsive to me. But, I've mellowed, changed. Nevertheless, the following are some thoughts on the whole matter and more. I'm still a huge fan of "Range" magazine, the bible of the American West. There isn't a day that goes by when an issue of some critical nature, whether it be wolves, climate change, private property rights, endangered species, etc. and although I may listen to any number of opinions myself, and even have a few, I ultimately lean back on the words of wisdom of "Range." "Range is an award winning quarterly devoted to the issues that threaten the American West, its people, lifestyles, lands, and wildlife. Range is a leading forum for opposing viewpoints in the search for solutions that will halt the depletion of a national resource- the American cowboy." Range is where I go to when I'm confused, angry, or even bitter. I can't look to books, lectures, and the pontification of professional intellectuals for wisdom. I look to the working men and women on the ground on the front lines. The search for true wisdom comes from the men or women who've battled in the trenches of real life on farms and ranches from coast to coast. Their stories are written on the pages of "Range" magazine every other month. I urge you to google them up and see for yourself. The wolf issue in the American West has died down quite a bit. I can recall the subject first getting broached with me at a meeting some Forest Service officials in the backcountry in the late 1980's. I think they thought I was of a new breed of cat, forward thinking, and probably amenable to the new world order of wolf reintroduction and recovery in the American West. That evening may have been the beginning of my undoing as a new, fresh faced permittee of the corporation. I'd only seen a few wolves up to that point in my entire life and it wasn't the wolf itself that initially ran shivers down my spine, it was the attendant flood of bureaucracy that I knew would follow. The wolf issue has always been as much about the role of an alien societal presence and role of government in our lives as it has been about just the presence of the wolf itself. That conflict still rages, even when it isn't making headlines. That's further reason why you should always go to bed with the "bible" of the American West on your nightstand. And back to the county and town of Missoula, Montana. Prior to my first school year in town I did have some apprehension about the liberal bias and makeup of the community, and certainly the university. My nervousness hasn't been justified by the experience I've had in "Zootown." With only some to be expected exceptions, living in and going to school in Missoula has been a pleasure. I've found the town to be a hardworking, middle class enclave surrounding a university that hasn't lived up to the wacky reputation I gave it. I'm all for good discussion and intelligent discourse on almost any issue and a university atmosphere is the perfect place for that. I've met quite a few students and professionals from every discipline the college has to offer and have yet to have a heated, unreasonable discussion with anyone. Missoula is growing at a reasonable rate, real estate prices seem to be in the norm, and trophy homes and gated communities haven't yet found fertile ground for germination. Yeah, there's always a rub. That lack of uber-wealth in Missoula and the surrounding area is a good thing. Take a look at Gallatin County and the town of Bozeman and you're staring at a phenomenon that is as much a threat to the quality of life in the American West as the advent of wolf generation was twenty years ago. It wasn't too many years ago and a ranch was worth what a ranch was worth. That is, it was worth the price of the buildings, the number of cows, and the amount of land. Oh to be sure, there were other items of value like water rights, hay meadows, road access, and the like. That's changed. Have you taken a look at the value of working ranches now, in 2015? Well, once they're sold, the majority of them won't be working ranches anymore. The working ranch and the families that have operated them for more than two centuries are slowly but surely disappearing, the casualties of the erosion of the family farm and ranch to the mega wealth of American society. I know that's a tough one to get your head wrapped around. Success has always been wrapped up in the American dream, work hard and get rich. I see that but I don't get it. The plain fact of the matter is that large farms and ranches are being bought up, fenced off, and taken out of production, In many cases, the owners become absentee landlords, hire a caretaker, and visit when the weather is good, the trout fishing is at it's peak, and the skiing is at its best. Now how in the hell does that square up with the very wisdom we were looking at when I started this rant? It doesn't. And all I can hope is that you get yourself a copy of Range magazine right now. Then get a subscription, and get a real job.
A brown horse is standing in a field of yellow flowers with mountains in the background.
September 17, 2020
North to Polar Bears, South to Old Mexico It's about time. A gallon of gas in Montana can be had for a buck 98 now. That's a helluva deal. Diana just got home from her annual winter trip to Aruba and filled up the Mercedes for less than a hundred bucks. That's about half of what we were paying for a tank of gas just this past summer. The price of gas is making everyone feel pretty good. More money to buy beer. When you think about it, a six pack of cheap beer, say Keystone for example, is about twice as expensive as a gallon of gas. That's cool. I always know there was a correlation between beer and gasoline. Makes perfect sense doesn't it? I doubt you're following my train of thought on the subject and you're probably wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Well, I'm not too sure myself but I'll give it a better go. Ready? Alright, so we're getting gasoline at the pump at prices we haven't seen since the last century. And we are feeling pretty good about that. We've got a few extra bucks lying around and the economy is picking up even more steam as we slowly but surely emerge from the recent economic slump. The price of oil has a lot of influence on the overall economic health of not only our economy and well being but as well on the international economic picture. Let's face it, on those levels, oil is the world's drug of choice. We get high when there's lots of it and go into withdrawal when it's scarce. For the time being, however, let's just assume that we're on a good roll that may last a while. Life is good at the pump. Keep on pumping. I know what happens when gas is cheap. Guess. We consume a hell of a lot more of it than we do when it's above three dollars a gallon. I've gone months without filling up my truck and forking over a hundred and fifty bucks at $3.89 s gallon. That's a chunk of change I don't always have handy. Now, hell, I won't think twice about filling up and heading down the highway for business or pleasure. I've got people and places I want to go see now that I can afford to. (And by the way, I was just pulling your drawers about Diana going to Aruba on holiday. She went to East Glacier to get the mail). The problem with that nifty scenario is that when gas is cheap and life is good we do act like a society of junkies. And you know what Neil Young said about that don't 'ya? "Every junkie's like a setting sun, (Needle and the Damage Done, 1970)." I may be acting a bit melodramatic at this point but I can't help but be thinking about Keystone Beer and Keystone Oil. Shouldn't the oil cost more than the beer? If we're tallkin' Michelob Ultra, or better yet, Moose Drool, our local favorite, I'd be drinking oil. There's the rub. We'll be consuming oil like it's a premier beer unless and until the price of oil goes back up to where it should be. I know, you're ready to kick my ass. Why in the hell do I want to see the price of oil to get high and stay high? Well, it's because many years ago I did one of the greatest hunts of my lifetime in the far northeast corner of Alberta, hard up against the Northwest Territories border and not far from Saskatchewan. That trip to the bush of Alberta was one of the highlights of my life. We hunted out of a small cabin on a remote lake, only reachable by float plane. And we were in the bush, as they say. There wasn't much in the way of civilization in front of us, in back, or to the side of us for hundreds of miles. I think Great Slave Lake was somewhere between us and the Arctic Circle. And when I sauntered off for a morning hunt I was pretty darned careful about checking my back track, not wanting to to be spending the winter holed up in a polar bear den. I hunted some of the most beautiful, primitive country I'd ever been in up to that point in my life. And to top that off, I killed a big bull moose that to this day hangs on the wall of our ranch house in Montana. The kicker to that story is that where I hunted that weekend in Alberta more than twenty years ago is where the oil for the Keystone Oil Pipeline is coming from. I'ts coming from the Alberta Tar Sands. I've thought on many occasions what that country might look like now and I don't want to imagine too hard. I'd imagine it doesn't look too much like it did back then. I've heard stories. I've not heard good stories about the exploration and extraction of the tar sands from that once pristine region up north. It breaks my heart. So how in the hell can I think good things about the most likely forthcoming construction of a pipeline from there to the Gulf Coast of Texas, carrying the oily residue of a scorched earth policy of strip mining the very country I walked on when I was young? I can't do it. From this point on in this writing I have a bad feeling that the more I write the more I'll be getting in over my head. The subject matter gets pretty complex from here on out so I'll keep it simple and have it said. Hey, I know we need oil, for our cars, trucks, industry, military, the whole enchilada. I know that. I also know, and so do you, that we need lots of big tracts of unspoiled country with lots of fresh air and water. We don't just want it, we need it (Jagger, Richards, 1975). We're beginning to experience a "going, going, gone kind of mentality that should be suited to a more primitive culture than what I'd like to believe we could be. I only have to think ahead a decade or two and don't like what I fear we might all see on this abused planet of ours. I don't want to pay three or four dollars a gallon for gas any more than you do. I also don't want to see that precious country that I hunted when I was young treated like a whore in old Mexico a century ago. Jobs. Oh yeah, that's the conundrum. They say there's thousands of jobs waiting for you, both in northern Alberta, and along the path the Keystone pipeline will traverse. Maybe and maybe not. I've heard both sides of that coin and for the record, low gas prices have already, right now and as we speak, slowed things down in the oil patch. So hold onto to that thought for a bit and in the meantime, if jobs or the lack thereof, are the thorn in the side of the most ardent supporters of Keystone XL Pipeline, why not get a little forward thinking and encourage an onslaught of research and development in massive wind and solar technology. Instead of "drill baby drill, (S. Palin)" we go to "build baby build, (W. Beck, 2021))." They both employ lots of labor and the money is good. Neither scenario is perfect and not without it's own respective good and poor points. But I'll bet you a case of Moose Drool beer that the environmental impact on this good earth of ours will be substantially improved if we can graduate to a more pragmatic way to move forward. I think the whole deal is a whole lot less complex than any of us want to recognize. I know, in my case, it doesn't take a whole lot of imagining of the landscape in the tar sands country then, when it was primitive, and in it's prime, and now, chewed up, and spit out, to know which way I want to see us go. So I've to to take it back to Neil, "I've seen the needle and damage done, a little part of it in everyone, but every junkie's like the setting sun, (N.Young, Needle and the Damage Done, 1970)." Here's to Keystone Beer, Here's to Keystone Oil, For what it's worth, " Let's drink to the Salt of the Earth, (Jagger, Richards, 1977)"