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Published: September 30th 2023
Arising early, we soon got to see the most glorious view - Williston in our rear view mirror.
When we temporarily let the story of Lewis and Clark, they had built a log fort just downstream of the Mandan villages. It was a cold winter, and they subsisted on what game they could shoot and corn shared with them by the Mandans. As soon as river conditions allowed, they sent the keelboat back down the Missouri carrying maps , notes, and biological specimens obtained up to that point. The keelboat had been invaluable in carrying large amounts of equipment, trade goods, and foodstuffs, but they knew all along that they would have to abandon it at the Mandan villages. River conditions beyond that point simply would not allow for use of such a large, heavy, and deep draft vessel. As the weather started warming, they supplemented their two pirogues with six cottonwood canoes which they built.
Meriwether: "We were sad to see the keelboat go back downstream, although we all knew it was going to come to that.We really got lucky when that Frenchman came into the Mandan villages and offered to go with us as an interpreter. He
had two wives, but the younger one had been taken from the Shoshone by the Hidatsa several years earlier. She spoke Hidatsa and Shoshone, and Charbono (I never have figured out how to spell that crazy French name) spoke Hidatsa and French, and we had a couple of men in the Corps who spoke English and French, so we could speak in English, have it translated to French, then Hidatsa, then Shoshone."
Me: "Kind of like that old game of telephone?"
Meriwether: "What's that?"
Me: "Never mind. You were saying."
Meriwether: "We would have been hard-put to get through the mountains without the horses we got from the Shoshone, and it was a lot easier when the Shoshone chief turned out to be Sakakawea's brother. We were all able to leave Mandan on April 7, when the ice had broken up. It was still pretty cold, but not freezing. The keelboat headed back down river carrying the material that was eventually to be taken back to Washington, and we headed upstream. It was very windy, and we nearly got in trouble in the pirogues with their sails, and had a day or two when it was
too windy and the waves were too big to allow traveling at all. Even when we did travel the northerly winds blew choking dust so thick we could barely see the opposite bank of the river. Then Sakakawea had had her baby, a boy, and the musquetors were so bad that his face got all swole up. Miserable time. Not dangerous like in the mountains, but miserable."
We began our day early at the NPS Missouri-Yellowstone Confluence Interpretive Center. Unfortunately, we were there early enough that the center was not yet open. However, we were able to go down to the river and see the confluence. The view from there is of two diverging streams, with the more easterly being the Yellowstone and the more westerly being the Missouri. The party had been anticipating this spot, and a crude map of the area had been given to them by an Hidatsa chief, so they knew which branch was the Missouri that they wanted to follow. They did explore upstream on the Yellowstone for a few miles, but did not seriously explore it. Their arrival at this point was an event that had been highly anticipated, and they celebrated by
having a dram of whiskey and playing the fiddle, singing, and dancing.
While at the confluence, both of the captains noted in their journals that this would be a good site for a fort and trading post. There was abundant wood and stone for building, and they could take advantage of being at a point where traders could easily arrive from two different directions of bountiful areas for trapping. Eventually, three forts were built at this location. Leaving the Confluence center, we stopped at the nearby Ft. Buford State Historic Site, just hundreds of yards down the road. There is little there now. The fort was poorly constructed in 1866 using inferior materials, some of which had been salvaged from the abandoned nearby Ft. Union, and by 1895 it was so dilapidated that it was abandoned. Today, only the Commanding Officer's Quarters, a stone powder magazine, and the old cemetery remain. There is a museum in the Quarters, but not yet open in the early morning. We might have stayed and waited for it to open, but we had a full day ahead of us and did not tarry. The fort is best remembered today as the place where
Sitting Bull finally surrendered.
Only a couple of miles away is Ft. Union Trading Post, a National Historic Site. This fort was clearly built to allow defense against attack, but it is also clear that it was designed as a place of trade. The original construction was by John Jacob Astor's American Fur Company. It has the traditional stockade and watchtowers as many forts, but in front is a wide plain where trading Native Americans could put up their tipis and come in to trade. There were two gates in tandem leading into the central quadrangle, and if only the outer one was open there was a window for conducting trade without allowing the indigenous population into the fort proper. In the central quadrangle there is a large fur press used to compress furs into 100
# bundles. Buffalo robes were a particular specialty, and about 25,000 per year traded for goods the Native Americans wanted, such as guns, blankets, clothing, and beads. The fort is said to have done about $100,000 per year in commerce. Throughout its existence it was a peaceful point of trade, and after its establishment it quickly became the most profitable trading post of western
America. Because of the variety of Native American tribes who came to the post, as well as its peaceful nature, several great artists visited and documented the fort and its trading partners, including George Catlin, John James Audubon, Prince Maximilian of Wied, and Karl Bodmer. After nearly 40 years of existence of the trading post, and amidst growing conflict between Native Americans and the burgeoning numbers of settlers flowing into the west, the nearby military post Ft. Buford was built. The federal government purchased the privately owned trading post, much of the wood was hauled over to built Ft. Buford, and much of the remainder was appropriate by the growing number of steamships plying the Missouri to be used as fuel for their boilers. Within a short time, little was left. One hundred years later the National Park Service in 1966 acquired the site, performed archaeological examinations of the area, and then built the present structures using painted representations and data from the archaeological investigations.
One minor interesting sidelight: in the early morning we crossed back and forthe between North Dakota and Montana several times, with a change in time zone each time. At Ft. Union, we parked in
Montana to visit the fort, 150 yards away. Most time zone changes in a day for me since we went to Australia last time.
After leaving Ft. Union, we were in Montana full time. The Fort Peck Dam creates Fort Peck Lake, the fifth largest manmade lake in the US, with a total coastline greater than the coastline of California. We drove across the dam, and in the process encountered a virtual blizzard of grasshoppers. They sounded like hail hitting the car, and cleaning them off was a major pain in the tush. There were so many that I was half expecting us to encounter 3 days of darkness next. Just outside of the nearby town of Glasgow, the town has erected whimsical statues of dinosaurs and local animals on the hillsides lining the highway.
Fort Peck Lake is located entirely within the giant Charles M. Russell National Wildlife Refuge, and the Reserve was actually created around the lake. This is not like the large midwestern wetland refuges which serve as stopping points for migrating waterfowl. This refuge is centered more around land animals, such as the endangered North American wolverine and black-footed ferret. It contains the larges
population of bighorn sheep outside the Rocky Mountains. Endangered fish species are found in the lake and tributaries. A 20 mile scenic drive has been established within the southern part of the refuge, off US Hwy 191.
Meriwether: "I remember this area, but it is sure different now. We would have loved to be able to sail that lake rather than work our way up the river. There was so much alkali in the dust and water that the men began to have breathing troubles and boils. Captain Clark nearly got bitten by a rattlesnake. One of our men nearly got chased down by a large bear even after he had shot it through the lungs. And a thunderstorm came up and that fool Charbono got the pirogue the wrong way again and most of our equipment and journals on that boat were swept overboard. Sakakawea calmly waded out with 3 month old Pomp in her arms and retrieved nearly all the stuff. Had to stop and dry it out before we could proceed. All in all, not our favorite place."
Trip planning sometimes produces surprising results, and so it was that we found ourselves stopping for the
next three nights in Winifred MT, population 208, boasting one steakhouse only open on weekends, one hotel with (I think) 6 rooms, a one-pump gas station, and what quickly became our in-town hangout, a real shit-kicking tavern. It became our hangout because it was the only place in town to get breakfast and dinner. You know the kind of place. In the morning old men come in and have breakfast and coffee, just as they have done daily for years. In the evening, locals come in for dinner and to have a beer or two. The jukebox has both kinds of music - country and western (with apologies to the Blues Brothers). We were greeted kindly by the locals, although with the admonition not to bring any of those Democrats with us. The Winifred Tavern is now firmly established as my favorite country bar after only Los Ojos in Jemez Springs NM. Surprisingly, the hotel was great, with large modern rooms, although no services beyond lodging. A transplanted Australian manages the place, and I think lives there also.
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