Bridge Au Naturale

Although Jacob was born in Montana and spent most of his growing-up and early twenties here, there were many areas that he hadn't heard about; or had heard about but not seen, like Natural Bridge State Park.

In early October of last year, he suggested that we check it out in attempt to pull me from my premature sadness that the mountains I had come to know and love would soon be inaccessible to me. October can be an odd time of year in Montana. There have been years where I was still running around in tank-tops and flip-flops:

(October, 2015)

...or there have been years like this one where it snowed all day on September 30th. October for hunters means deer and elk coming down from the higher elevations, but October for non-sub-zero-tent campers means the end of the season, and October for hikers means unpredictable weather and more active wildlife. Thankfully, last October (2017) was what it should be - a gentle easing into the fall, followed by a relatively unremarkable winter, and it all started for us at Natural Bridge near McCleod, Montana.

 Water going in...

 A couple of milestones were made on this (short) hike: 1) Zoey carried the backpack full of water (and maybe a beer or two for Mom and Dad) the entire way without complaining; and 2) Holden wasn't - or didn't ask to be - carried the entire trail. And since this wasn't anything too steep, long, or rocky, it was also the first time that Louis ventured onto the trail with us.

 The shadow makes it a little difficult to see the sheer rock face that makes this canyon. It's just vertical enough and just high enough to be a popular place for practicing rock-climbing. Or so I've seen on Instagram.

 Water goes out...

Yup, just lookin' over the edge while Mom is a good five-feet away and breathing heavily. Admittedly, this was not my most favorite place because the edges blend in quite nicely, and where giant rocks are, they aren't certain to remain. In fact, the park issues a stern warning that walking around on the actual natural bridge is not recommended because parts of it could give way at any moment, depending on the time of year that you're deciding to take your life in your hands. But, being the enormous nature-hypocrite that I am, when we went back this last summer (2018), we walked around on the bridge and I got closer to a ledge than I ever have before, and on purpose.

 My fear of heights is still rather insane, and I have no desire to do any sort of conquering of any of my fears any time soon; you won't find me holding a butterfly or a bird, either. But my ever-increasing desire to see more and more things now brings me closer to edges than I ever thought I'd be outside of my re-occuring nightmares.

Yes, now I *give* myself re-occuring nightmares but that somehow makes it better.

 Walking the opposite way back down the trail to see the canyon and bridge from the other side.

 A steep, grassy mountain side, yes. The place where we stood to see the water coming out of the Natural Bridge, also yes.

From this trip to the start of January, I was sure each hike was going to be our last. As it happened, our longest stretch of not venturing into the woods was from January until April, and we even got snowed-out of our hike on June 9th.

This last summer - 2018 - after knowing how much fun all of this roadtripping could be, we snagged every opportunity we could to get away, even if it wasn't very far, or for very long. Luckily, Natural Bridge was close enough and cool enough and out-of-cell-phone-service enough that we went back this last summer and spent the night.

First of all, finding a camping spot in Montana is a BITCH. But after so many trials and errors - and a couple of times setting up camp in the dark - we think we're getting a handle on the situation. Numero Uno: hunt for campsites Sunday morning and you'll get the cream of the crop. On our way to this realization, we thought that simply getting there early would be sufficient, and it kind of was. We found a camping spot, and a good one, but it took some work, and was ominously-named Hell's Canyon Campground.

 This was our second time camping this summer, and it was in a more primitive campground than what we were used to, but it was fun. Holden liked gathering kindling for the campfire, and there are no pictures of Zoey because she was always running around pretending to be a horse or a Unicorn (oh, believe me, there *is* a difference...).

We set up camp then drove back to the Natural Bridge State Park. We walked the same trail as in 2017, only on this part:

The kids and I walked down to the bottom, where the water pooled then drizzled through the canyon.

It was very cool, but ultimately not a good idea, and not really worth it. That hillside kicked our asses.

Yes, that is dirt on my teeth.

We went back to our campsite, ate dinner, and told ghost stories, which meant that I tried to make Hansel and Gretel sound as horrifying as possible.

Campfire vibes. 

But in a very non-Hansel-and-Gretel-twist, I ended up being the most scared since I woke up around two in the morning to someone walking around our campsite. No, not a someTHING, a someONE. I was the only one awake and was thisclose to shouting, "WHO'S THERE AND WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!" when Louis woke up, jingled his collar jewelry, and I heard the footsteps attempt to quietly retreat. This is how I know it was a person and not an animal. Jacob woke up only a few seconds later because he had to use the bathroom, but I was actually shaking. We went to the bathroom together and I was more scared of what person could be walking the woods in the pitch dark than any animal I might come across. If I really let my imagination run wild, I reach Louis-saved-our-lives-that-night level of dramatics, when it's just as possible that it was the Park Ranger we spoke to earlier in the day making sure our campfire was out cold. Regardless, the memory of this is what kept me awake most of the night on our final camping trip of the season to the Badlands.

We are very interested to see what the Natural Bridge looks like when it has water raging over top of it, and for that we'll most likely need to go in the Spring or early Summer, and maybe see if those rumored kayakers who go over the top (or through? I'm not entirely sure) are real. But with our never-ending list of places to visit, we'll tuck this one away for when we need a quick jaunt to remind us that, "Where water is boss, the land must obey."

Marking Mount Rushmore

Going to Mount Rushmore wasn't something that was on our long-term itinerary. Then again, neither was anything else we had done so far. But as the summer progressed and we saw more and more sights, we realized that it really didn't take that much to do a little traveling, and that some of the greatest world wonders weren't really that far away. So the weekend we went to Devil's Tower, Jacob also suggested we wander on over to Mount Rushmore, and at this point, why the heck not?!

Even though Mount Rushmore is in an entirely different state, it really didn't take too long to get there; just long enough for me to completely fall in love with South Dakota. And it's not like I even know too much about the state, or saw that much of it, but I deemed every town we went through to be greater than the last and insisted we move there immediately. That most likely won't happen as now I also have dreams of living in Fishtail, Montana and running a donut shop/hiking tours.

We were one of the last to leave our campsite at Devil's Tower, Holden repeatedly discussing the "molcano; the dead molcano." I told him, "We're going to see some heads on a mountain," to which he replied, "And knees and toes?" He slept most of the car ride to Mount Rushmore and when he woke up asked, "Where's the molcano?" And with every new sight we see, if it even remotely resembles Devil's Tower, he'll say, "There's a molcano!" It's easy to take for granted children's reactions - or lack thereof - to the places you take them, but it's nice to know when something really leaves a positive impression. He did talk about the "molcano" throughout the rest of the day but that doesn't mean he didn't appreciate the "heads," as well.

 Montana - gotta represent.

At the ages of six and three, they already know more than our sitting President.

 Learning about the construction of the "heads," which Zoey found incredibly interesting. She even asked to stay and watch the video, which I didn't find the least bit surprising; she has a very engineer-oriented brain; like her father, completely unlike her mother.

 As had become my habit, I saw something labeled "trail" and had to check it out. Like it was meant for me, the trail was called The Presidential Trail. I mean, why didn't they just hang a neon billboard that read, "BREANNE, HIKE HERE!"?

 Taking a break "hiking" the Presidential Trail. It is a trail, even with a warning that it's strenuous, but not because you're traipsing the hills but because the majority of the trail is stairs. There are two places to start the trail but both have their strenuous parts, and lots of benches to make up for it.

 Jacob and the kids at his favorite spot, Theodore Roosevelt, the Father of our National Parks.

 There is a stop along the trail, the Sculptor's Studio, where the scales and tools to make the monument are on display. As inspiring as the monument is, you can't deny how cool it would have been if the full-body idea had actually panned out.

 

Zoey said that Lincoln was her favorite.

 Like visiting the Grand Canyon (which is on our list), it's fun that Mount Rushmore is a place nestled deep within the Black Hills of South Dakota yet attracts people from all over the globe; the first person I asked to take this family photo didn't understand English. And Holden is looking like that because he loathes looking at strangers (the pictures of him smiling at the camera are either because me or Jacob is behind it, or we set up the camera timer).

The Black Hills, which I fell in love with and insisted on camping in for my birthday (which didn't actually happen), and tragically suffered a fire during this last fall. But no doubt we'll find ourselves in South Dakota again come summer.

Trekking Devil's Tower

By this time in our summer - middle of August - our itch for the outdoors became more insistent. It was fun, a good change of scenery, and always a health benefit, but escaping into the wilderness became just that: when we went camping, or just hiking for the afternoon, life became all about just being in that moment - stepping over that giant rock, focusing on the trail and not on the raging waters below, scanning the forest for a walking stick of the appropriate height and weight. No one was thinking or talking about what was happening back at home - bills that needed to be paid, things that needed to be fixed, work that needed to be gone to. We dealt with more hurt feet than we did hurt feelings, and the only drama was usually me at anything resembling a height. And, as if the Universe knew this was a benefit for our family, we were provided with more random times to hit the trails. For this particular trek, Jacob remembered a place he had heard about as a kid, so we packed up and headed for Devil's Tower National Monument in Wyoming.

 Learning from our last camping adventure, we left early and arrived at the campsite before sunset (and before the hoards of people with their F950 trucks and 16-wheelers).

 Whew! Settin' up camp is rough work!

 Brownies with animal footprints in them? I mean, how could I not??

 This being our third attempt at camping, things seemed to be going our way. Until we ran into the fire ban that spanned pretty much the entire Western United States. If necessity is the mother of invention, I'd like to introduce you to Hond-Dogs.

 Jacob cleaned the...block, or whatever...before putting on the hot dogs. And they didn't taste any better or worse, but the car did smell like bacon for a little while.

 As we were "cooking" our "dinner," that's when people began filing into the campsite, offering us their perplexed looks at what Jacob was doing. And if anyone actually said something to us, it was, "We brought our stove."

 With our campfire lighter that we were banned from using to light a fire, we charred marshmallows for s'mores. I'm of the burnt marshmallow persuasion while Zoey is of the warm and gooey. And I'll take mine without the graham cracker and chocolate.

 While the elite campers were firing up their stoves, we were lacing up our tennis shoes to head up Devil's Tower. Fun fact: this is known as America's First National Monument, the first area designated under the Antiquities Act.

 With Devil's Tower in front of us, this was the view behind us. And a good time to mention that Louis did not accompany us on this adventure, for one reason in particular that is hard to see in this picture. Aside from it being way too hot of weather and there being no room for him in the car, dogs aren't allowed in this area, and I'm going to assume it's because of the literal field of Prairie Dogs and their corresponding homes, which are ankle-twisting holes in the ground. If Louis had been with us, I can only imagine it being like that groundhog arcade game.

 Mama and her cubs taking in the views halfway up.

 Oh, hello! Just passing through...

 This was at the "top," where the general trail ends. You can climb on the sea of boulders, and I know people climb to the very top but I'm pretty sure you need harnesses for that. We also happened to be there a week early, just missing the yearly convention of UFO and Alien-seekers.

 The views around the base of the tower.

Mom's repeated shouting of, "We're almost there!" pays off sometimes.

 With the weather being so toasty, our twilight trekking was definitely enjoyable, not having to deal with the sun on top of the heat. And even though it also meant longer daylight, that still didn't stop us from winding up on the trail in the close-to-dark-but-not-really, hard-to-see dusk. I'll be honest - thank God for the cellphone flashlight.

 Once we got back to the campsite, Holden downed three Hond-Dogs, we tried to remember the rules of Old Maid, then went to bed.

 Good morning from the Tower!

The view from our campsite, just to the right of the Tower. We weren't in any big hurry to pack up the next morning, and, surprisingly, everyone who had entered the campsite after us had also left before we even woke up. And Devil's Tower left such a big impression on Holden that he still talks about it to this day; "the dead volcano." But our Clipboard of Fun for this particular weekend wasn't over just yet...