Another Summer Day in Montana: Trout Fishing, Ravens, and Poultry

It's the morning routine. I wake up (a little late this morning after fishing on the Big Hole River until 10 p.m. last night), stumble downstairs, start the coffee, pull out a dog biscuit, and open the front door so RTD can find & fetch the newspapers.

This morning I was greeted by the local raven family. They've been taking the young 'uns around the hill, introducing them to food, danger, friends, and fun things to do. I guess I qualify as a friend, probably because I feed them butchering scraps and chat with them (I've got the defensive kaw, hunger kaw, hello cluck, and territorial quork down pretty well on days when my voice is in good form) on my walk to and from work, and when hiking etc. Sometimes I say the wrong thing and they get really pissed and act like they might attack. Like this morning:

Maybe my voice was off from a late night on the river with Mike Morris and David Hobbs. Mike is with the National Center for Appropriate Technology; he was based in Butte and I wish he still was, for he's a great fishing partner and fellow philosopher. David is a chemistry prof here at My College, and also a talented musician that often plays with Chad Okrusch and others at the MoFAB venues.

We parked at my "secret" spot and hiked down to the river at Devil Rock (if you know the Big Hole, you'll know this rivermark):

Mike headed upstream into a run marked with pocket water:

And David down along the big pool:

I noodled around in the middle--enjoying the cool breeze, hoping the partially overcast sky would bring a good evening hatch, and watching for a photo-opp. Mike set up first. It's hard to hold a fish in the fast pocketwater of the Big Hole canyon. When they get sidewise in the heavy current, they often run you downstream:

You can't do much but hang on, chase them, and hope they don't break off. But Mike hopped nimbly over the slick rocks, then caught up with and released the fish for another day ("A trout is too beautiful to be caught only once."):

Though there were a few big golden stoneflies around, the big fish did not seem to be rising to them. We caught mostly smallish 'bows and browns, like this lively rainbow:

Or this buttery brown:

Here you can see a rig that seemed to work pretty well: a large golden stone or stimulator dry fly with a small beadhead dropper. The dry fly worked like a strike indicator, with virtually every fish taking the small beadhead nymph. In this photo, the small beadhead is in the trout's lip, and the stonefly is hanging below:

RTD is a great fishing dog, and always has been. She stays away from the backcast, does not come around and get all tangled up in your line when you're rigging up etc, and (usually) does not go swimming through the trout lies unless she is following me as I wade across the river. RTD does, however, like to inspect a trout before it is released. And she would like to give each and every one a little kiss:

We left the river at dark, even though the action pretty much quit about 9 p.m. Usually, it gets better and better as darkness falls. But what mere mortal can know the minds and ways of trout?

This morning, after the raven mob subsided, I got in a little shooting. It's never too soon to prepare for elk hunting. I'm going lead-free and working up a new load with Barnes all-copper bullets for my 308 Winchester. I know this rifle will do a lot better than this, but it's a start, with 2&1/4 inch groups at 100 yards:

Then it was off to the Moulton, to visit Howard Smith. A retired psychologist, he's a farmer at heart. His poultry and horses keep him pretty busy. Here are his turkeys:

Which he leads out for the day to free range in an open pen:

Alongside a separate enclosure for some of the chickens:

The laying chickens and noisy guinea fowl have their own spaces:

Howard helped me pick out and butcher a pair of his free range chickens. One for the freezer, and one for Sunday dinner. After thanking Howard, it was time to get to work for the day. Tomorrow I'm heading off to Butte's backyard Pintler Wilderness for a little vision quest/backpack trip--more about that later.

Silver Bow Creek & Superfund: Past, Present, and Future

It’s been an amazing summer here in the heart of America’s largest Superfund site. Presidential candidate Barack Obama and his family spent Independence Day with us, first at Butte’s parade and then at a holiday picnic in his honor. Of all places, Butte America is ready to hear and believe messages about change.

Yesterday, the 3-day National Folk Festival finished in Butte. The Original Mine Yard was a prime venue for the event and yet another example of cultural restoration despite or perhaps even because of Superfund. Twenty-five years ago Butte suffered the double blow of a general mining shutdown and becoming a Superfund site. Who then would have thought we’d be hosting presidential candidates and national festivals?

As part of my research on the role of citizens in shaping Superfund remedies, I’ve been reading local newspapers from the 1980s. Unlike many communities elsewhere in America, Butte did not oppose Superfund listing. In fact, Buttians embraced this change.

With good reasons. Clearly, citizens were fed up with the deceptions handed them by Arco and its subsidiary, the Anaconda Company. “No, we have no intentions of halting mining in Butte.” Then Arco stopped mining. “No, we have no intentions of shutting off the pumps that dewater the underground mines and Berkeley Pit.” Then Arco shut down the pumps. “No, we have no intentions of selling the Anaconda Company.” Then Arco sold its subsidiary.

Buttians were also becoming increasingly aware of and concerned about the human health effects of toxic metals—especially on children. A survey of children in the nearby smelting town of Anaconda showed high arsenic levels, and high levels of lead in Butte posed a definite risk that citizens wanted addressed.

Furthermore, Superfund meant money to clean up the environment, and clean up meant jobs. Thanks to Montana’s U.S. Representative Pat Williams and U.S. Senator Max Baucus, funding was soon on its way.

It wasn’t easy. Williams and other liberal Democrats were up against President Ronald Reagan—the second most anti-environmental president in the history of the United States. Historians remember Reagan for a debacle at the Environmental Protection Agency that included the resignation of Administrator Anne (née Gorsuch) Burford and felony convictions for some of her staff.

Speaker of the House Tip O’Neill – who called Reagan “an amiable dunce” whose presidency was “one big Christmas party for the rich” – accepted Williams’ invitation to visit Butte. When he realized the dangers posed by mountains of poisonous mine waste, O’Neill helped speed Williams’ appropriation request. Butte’s Irish working class culture probably didn’t hurt O’Neill’s sympathy for the city, either.

Superfund has been good for Butte. I thought about this as I floated Silver Bow Creek in my little inflatable kayak. Twenty-five years ago, the creek was a lifeless, industrial sewer.

The upper reaches of Silver Bow Creek have been cleaned up and restored thanks to environmental laws and a raft of concerned, activist citizens. The riparian zone is lush with willows and various native grasses. The creek, a pleasant blend of riffle-pool habitat, and every pool holds schools of longnose suckers. While no trout, the longnose sucker is not overly pollution-tolerant. I take their presence, like the increasing numbers of bluebirds in Butte, as a hopeful sign of ecosystem recovery.

The remedy and restoration of Silver Bow Creek is not all clover and roses, as I’ve addressed in previous blog entries and Montana Public Radio commentaries. There are serious issues with recontamination by metals-laden sediments from the Butte hill. Still, compared with unremediated reaches, it looks pretty good.

As I floated through an unremediated reach of Silver Bow Creek that included Durant Canyon, I was reminded of how bad things can be. Although the canyon is a beautiful, scenic, and secluded place with sheer lava cliffs, it was hard to keep my mind on the beauty. Eroded banks barren of vegetation, thick deposits of green copper salts, and dead stands of ghostly willows line the creek. Though I have biked through Durant Canyon on the old Milwaukee Road, looking down at the creek from the abandoned railway is very different from a stream-level view.

I was able to float Silver Bow Creek thanks to Montana’s stream access law, which includes access wherever a public road crosses a stream. As we clean up and restore Silver Bow Creek, the Clark Fork River, and other portions of America’s largest Superfund site, let’s not forget the importance of public access. Public parks, fishing access areas, historic sites, biking and hiking greenway trails—all are crucial components of the restoration process. It is important that you and I, our children, our grandchildren, and all future generations can enjoy our abundant natural resources.

For more news about Silver Bow Creek and other Superfund issues, please check out CFRTAC’s website at hyperlink www.cfrtac.org.

From Butte to Missoula, we deserve a clean, healthy, and accessible Clark Fork River. It’s your river. Wade in, and help make the future. Thank you.


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[An earlier version of this was broadcast as a commentary on Montana Public Radio.]

Three Days of Peace & Music: 2008 National Folk Festival in Butte America

I've been reading Butte, Montana's, local newspaper from the 1980s. It's depressing, with daily news of mine shutdowns, unemployed workers, the need for a Superfund clean-up, and -- in the background, as the second-most anti-environmental president in U.S. history -- the Reagan Administration. Who would have thought, at that time, that Butte America would be courted by a presidential candidate (i.e. Barack Obama) or that we would be playing host to the National Folk Festival?

My wife (Jan Munday) & I were there every day for the whole time, including “after hours” (past midnight) at the former YMCA/MoFAB where Chad Okrusch, David Hobbs, and other local talents played. We drank a lot of beer, danced our asses off, met folks from all over, and were so exhausted that we piled into bed last night before 9 p.m. and slept a solid ten hours.

The premiere venue was the stage at the Original Gallows Frame & Mineyard. Here's a view of the gallows frame (aka headframe), silouhetted by the clear blue sky that graced us each day, and by the East Ridge of the Continental Divide (by clicking on the photo, it should enlarge so that you can also see the Their Lady of Our Rockies statue on the ridge to the left of the headframe):

What a cool stage, built onto the base of the gallows frame (and with a 3500 foot deep shaft below it):

Build it and they will come. My best guess is about 20,000 people, most from nearby Montana (Butte is only 15 minutes from Montana), and many from neighboring states such as Idaho, Washington, and Wyoming. Here's a view of the crowd at the Original Mineyard:

There were 7 stages in play, with 27 musical groups in more or less constant performance at each stage. Saturday there was music from noon to 10:30 p.m., followed by after hours until 2 a.m. at the MoFAB. The music was widely inclusive, including performers from Montana's indigineous peoples. Here is Bill Runsabove, of the Northern Cheyenne, regaling us with ballads of defeating Custer and other key cultural events:

The dance stage was always a hopping place to be. Nathan & The Zydeco Cha Chas were a big favorite. It's also the only place we witnessed any bad crowd behavior, when some drunken (and probably underaged) Bozeman girls pushed others out of the way to make room for their dance circle. Luckily, the crowd was pretty mellow: the Butte girls cut the drunks a lot of slack and did not kick their asses (as usually happens with aggressive outsiders in Butte). Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez:

Likewise, Wylie & The Wild West were a big crowdpleaser with their eclectic blend of country music, wild stage antics, and superb musicianship. There is a Montana connection, and the group did a nice tribute to the former famous rodeo star and infamous hunting outfitter, Billy Stockton (who was in the front row for one of Wylie's performances). Here's Wylie with cowboy poet Paul Zarzysi, whose poem "Butte" (play at this link) brought the crowd to its feet:

There were entertaining, diverse cultural lessons at every turn. Rahim Alhaj, a gifted oud player from Iraq, played a nice blend of traditional tunes and contemporary compositions. Along with drummer Souhail Kaspar, they explained many of the tunes and traditions:

The Fox Family was one of my favorite groups. These fiddlers grew up on the Fort Belknap reservation in Montana, and they play music based on the Metis tradition--a fusion of indigineous styles, traditional French fur trapper era music, and Celtic influences:

Another favorite was The Seldom Scene. Ostensibly a bluegrass band, they do wonderful renditions of tunes from other genres. Their performances of Dylan's "Baby Blue," Arlo Guthrie's "City of New Orleans," and John Prine's "Paradise" made me appreciate these tunes in whole new ways.

What would a folk music festival in Butte be without an Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) booth? The IWW played a big role in the early labor history of Butte, especially with the assasination of IWW organizer Frank Little:

Mark Ross well represented the IWW musical tradition. His album, Look for Me in Butte, is a glorious collection of labor songs and poems, and is well worth a difficult search to find a copy. Here's Mark at the IWW booth microphone:

Mark your calendar and save the date: 10 - 12 July 2009. See you in Butte America!

Montana Springtime Wildflowers in July--at 9000 feet

Around town in Butte and Walkerville Montana, spring has come and went. It's been dry and hot the past few weeks, and the grasses are taking over the meadows and sagebrush prairie. But Butte is "only" 5700 feet in elevation, and Walkerville "only" 6100 or so. Look off to the west and you see the Pintler (as in Pintler Wilderness and Anaconda-Pintler Mountain Range) and there are still vast snowfield covering much of the land.

I hiked up to a favorite lake yesterday at nearly 9,000 feet elevation. The access road was dry, which was encouraging as just two weeks ago it was still snowy and muddy and I did not want to drive up it and tear the hell out of it just to get to a trailhead where I would have to turn around and drive back down.

Driving up the steep access road to Many Miles Lake, the seasons changed rapidly.

On the sagebrush prairie/lodgepole forest interface where the access road turns up the Many Miles Creek valley, blooming wildflowers included Small-flowered penstemon (Penstemon procerus):

Common paintbrush (Castillejah minata):

And Arnica (Arnica sp; I was going to say Heartleaf arnica, but there are many species of Arnica hereabouts, and this one looks decidely different from those in the lower elevation forest):

Midway up, the Beargrass (Xerophyllum tenax) was putting on a big show:

Near the trailhead, especially in a wet area along a spring seep, there was Elderberry (I could not tell whether black, purple, or red--note the 5-leaf clusters; Sambucus sp.):

Wild strawberry (Fragillaria virginiana):


Trapper's tea (Ledum glandulosum):

Pink mountain heather (Phyllodoce empetriforumus):

And Sticky currant (Ribes viscossumum):

Hiking in, I was thankful for the field workers from the local Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest. They do a great job of clearing trails, on open ridges where there is a log of blow down and in wet areas where big old spruces like this one fall over the trail:

As we climbed higher, RolyTheDog began finding welcome snowdrifts where she could rest, cool off, and feed a few mosquitoes:

I've hiked to this lake so many times, it is a familiar path like walking to work. The familiarity makes the hike pass quickly, and soon (so it seemed) we were there:

Among the fragrant, soft-needled Alpine larches:

And yes, it was still spring. On the margins of melting snowbanks, the earliest wildflowers were blooming:

Including Glacier lillies (Erythronium grandiflorum):

And Shooting stars (Dodecathon sp.):

The cutthroat-rainbow hybrids that inhabit the lake finished spawning not long ago, and they were feeding greedily. Once I found the right fly, a black ant (they consistently refused two caddis patterns), it was great fun to pitch short (20 - 30 foot casts) along the shoreline, and watch their snouts push above the surface to grasp the fly:

After a pleasant nap, I boiled up a pot of tea, contemplated the Edge of the World (aka the "Gunsight"--the outflow to the hanging valley of the lake):

And headed down the trail to the truck, a cold beer hidden in the spring seep, and the hour-long drive home. Half of which is on bad dirt roads. I'm a bit glad that the Forest Service does not better maintain its roads--no use making it too easy to get to the backcountry!

Silver Bow Creek Float II: In the Hot Zone

A week or so ago, I floated the upper reach of Silver Bow Creek from Butte to Ramsay ("Superfund Recreation"). I had intended to float through Durant Canyon, but that trip was abbreviated when my inflatable "Tahiti boat" suffered a small tear that deflated the floor. Once again, here is a map of the area:

Sunday, I resumed the trip, putting in at Miles Crossing just west of Ramsay. This area is still "hot"--that is, it is still contaminated with arsenic and heavy metals from more than a century of mining and smelting upstream at Butte, Montana. While I did not exactly hold my breath going through this area, I did minimize my contact with the water and avoid contact with the obviously contaminated streambanks.

Here is an area where tailings are currently being removed (i.e. remedy):

And a new stream bed is under construction (remedy & restoration combined):

This area is just above the Miles Crossing bridge where RTD and I put-in:

What a contrast, this barren riparian zone compared with the lush riparian zone in the reach I floated last week:

The barren areas are caused by the heavy metals and the resulting phytotoxicity. Many of these tailings were originally deposited high on the flood plain during the 1908 flood, but constant erosion and re-deposition have spread them throughout the current floodplain:

Still, it's a pretty place. As one enters Durant Canyon, one forgets they are in the midst of America's largest Superfund site:

About midway through, the cold and relatively clean waters of German Gulch Creek join Silver Bow Creek:

I say "relatively clean," because although German Gulch supports a good population of native westslope cutthroat trout, that population is threatened by selenium contamination bleeding from the abandoned Beal Mountain Mine. Here's nice little westslope cutthroat from German Gulch:

If you fish there, please don't kill any. There aren't many populations like this left, and we need them to repopulate Silver Bow Creek some day in the future when it's clean enough to support trout.
Here's the view to a sheer volcanic outcrop directly across from where German Gulch Creek enters:

A redtailed hawk put on a show for us as we ate lunch and lay down for a quick nap:

The Durant Canyon section has some pretty good waves and one ledge-waterfall drop of about four feet immediately below the German Gulch confluence. That was exciting. I also rubbed on a few rocks, and would recommend that flows be 50 to 60 cfs according to the upper Silver Bow Creek hydrograph, instead of the 40 cfs that I floated on.

As the lower canyon opens up to the Gregson/Crackerville flood plain, the stark reality of Superfund scenery really sets in. I suppose this is because the swift waters of the canyon move polluted sediments through fairly effectively, whereas they are deposited as the floodplain spreads out and water velocity slows.

Here you can see the layers of toxic tailing laid down by high water years ago. The bluish-green deposits on the left side are probably rich in copper salts:

Here's an even more graphic tailings deposit showing copper salts:


And here's a "ghost forest" of trees killed by those arsenic and heavy metals-laden deposits:

And -- end of the line -- here's RTD at the outlet of a small impoundment near our takeout point where Silver Bow Creek crosses the Gregson/Fairmont Road (both she & I got bath last night!):