Saturday Summary - Week 34 - Harvest Hosts, Walking Sticks & the Great Divide

June 21 – June 26 | Stevensville, MT → Lima, MT → Ririe, ID → Swan Valley, ID

Where We Stayed

• Wildwood Brewing — Harvest Host, Stevensville, MT (Saturday)

• Lake Como — Darby, MT (Sunday & Monday)

• Beaverhead RV & Inn — Lima, MT (Tuesday)

• Juniper Campground — Ririe, ID (Wednesday & Thursday)

• Sleepy Bear RV Park — Swan Valley, ID (Friday)

About Harvest Hosts

After a long bike ride, kayak paddle, or hike, there is nothing quite like a cold beer at the end of it. It has become one of the rhythms of this trip;  the outdoor activity is the main event, but the brewery afterward is the reward. The light at the end of the tunnel, literally in the case of the Hiawatha Trail.

This week we stayed at Wildwood Brewing, a Harvest Host location, and it's a good excuse to pause and talk about Harvest Hosts properly, because they've been such a significant part of this trip.

We discovered Harvest Hosts about six years ago, right around the time we started converting Skuhlie. They were the perfect way to test what we'd been building; we'd find a location within two hours of home, head out after work on a Friday, enjoy beautiful spots for the weekend, and come back with a list of things to improve on the bus. We explored over twenty Harvest Host locations in the Finger Lakes region: breweries, wineries, farm stands, and cideries. And yes, I know many of them involve alcohol, but honestly, what better situation than being able to order a second pint knowing you're sleeping right there on the property? No one has to drive home. The answer is always yes to the second pint.

The Finger Lakes Harvest Host locations are something special. Most are perched with stunning views of the lakes and rolling hills. Can you imagine waking up in a winery on a quiet Saturday morning, coffee in hand, looking out over Seneca or Cayuga Lake? That's the Harvest Host life. And when have you ever paid $40 at a campground and had the host bring you a pint and a pizza? You haven't. When we Harvest Host, we stay for free and buy the beer and the pizza. Same thing. Better view.

At Wildwood Brewing, we met a fellow Harvest Hoster on her way to Wisconsin to see family. She has spent the past 25 years working as medical relief in disaster and war zones around the world. All of my respect and gratitude to her and everyone who answers that calling. You meet remarkable people on the road.

The pizza at Wildwood was good. I went with the green base, which turned out to be Hatch chili. Yes. It was delicious. I will say it doesn't quite reach the magic of eating Hatch chiles in New Mexico, where they belong, but it was a very worthy second.

Father's Day & Lake Como

The next morning was Father's Day. Henry and Hanna called Don together, and we had a long, lovely call; the kind that makes the distance feel smaller. We keep in touch with the kids pretty regularly, but catching up on a day like that is something different. We talked about trying to arrange a family trip, even just a weekend, that coincides with our time on the road. That would mean everything.

Our overnight was at Lake Como in Darby, Montana. Yes, Lake Como, like the one in Italy and, for those of us from the Finger Lakes region, the one in Cayuga County too. When I worked in tourism there I used to think about a marketing campaign connecting all the Lake Comos. Turns out Montana had one too.

The sites at this campground were first-come, first-served, something we'd always been a little nervous about. We finally took the leap, armed with a backup list of alternatives just in case. We were fortunate; it was a Sunday and several sites were opening up as families headed home. What we found was a creek nearby, phenomenal views of jagged snow-capped mountains, a public beach, and short hikes. What we didn't find was WiFi.

Don spent Monday working from a coffee shop and a pocket park in the nearby town. I stayed at the campground with our canopy tent, my painting supplies, a packed lunch, and Lucky. It was a genuinely lovely day. I spent most of it reading in a hammock. Lucky and I took a longish bike ride, and at the water's edge, I sketched while she sniffed around. Lucky surprised me by actually swimming. Lucky is not a water dog. Apparently, Lake Como changed her mind, at least for an afternoon.

That evening, Don and I finally placed the walking stick medallions we've been collecting onto an actual walking stick. I'd been refusing to buy one, holding out for the right find on a trail somewhere. I knew it wouldn't happen in the desert but feeling confident the Pacific Northwest would deliver. Sure enough, Dash Point State Park in Washington produced the perfect candidate. Don sanded it smooth and sealed it with polyurethane. That night we took turns nailing on the medallions from our favorite parks and stood back and looked at what we'd made. It was more beautiful than I expected. This is exactly the kind of souvenir I love.  Something built slowly, park by park, over months of road.

Change of Plans, Dead Zones & a Much-Needed Shower

Here's something we hadn't fully accounted for: we had now gone several days without a shower. The Harvest Host, naturally, had no shower. Lake Como campground had no shower. We had biked the Hiawatha Trail the Saturday before. The math was not adding up in our favor.

Our next reserved campground was Beaverhead RV & Inn in Lima, MT at a small, family-owned place. We left Lake Como a day early specifically to get a shower. When we arrived: no showers. The new owners had inherited facilities in rough shape and had to close them while they work through improvements, which is completely understandable and also not what we needed in that moment. We told them we'd stay one night and moved on.

The drive to Lima also took us through a dead zone we knew was coming, but it lasted longer than expected, and then we hit several more we didn't see coming. We arrived in Wisdom, Montana right on time for one of Don's meetings and were fortunate to catch a signal just in time. Lucky and I took a walk while Don took his call, and Wisdom was worth the stop even without the signal drama. It looked like a movie set, log buildings, windmills, a dirt main street, actual saloons, and those big Montana mountains behind everything. A real Western town.

The campground in Ririe, Idaho (our next stop) had fantastic views right next to a reservoir, but bad cell service again. Don was understandably frustrated. We headed to the local library, which has been our salvation more times than I can count on this trip. While Don worked, I started a spreadsheet, and if you know me, you know I love a spreadsheet, mapping out two verified signal options for every upcoming campground. After research and a few reservation changes, I'm cautiously optimistic that the next month will be smoother. We'll see.

Down the street from the library was a sub shop that turned out to be one of those small-town finds we always hope for: creative sandwiches, made fresh to order, clearly beloved by the whole community. We ate lunch in the park next to the library, where a farmer's market was setting up for the afternoon. I'll be honest, more and more of these feel like craft fairs in disguise, not proper farmers' markets. But we bought two fresh loaves of bread from teenage girls raising money for a trip to Japan (their parents are Japanese and Panamanian), and apple fritters and a dirty soda from a girl raising money for ballet camp. Those purchases felt right.

Lewis & Clark & the Weight of History

On the drive to Lima, we stopped for lunch at a spot with good signal that turned out to be historically significant: Clark Canyon Reservoir, the site of Camp Fortunate on the Lewis and Clark Trail. This is where the expedition met the Lemhi Shoshoni Tribe, and where Sacagawea was reunited with her own people. The Lewis and Clark party stashed their canoes and supplies here for the return journey.

I have a complicated relationship with celebrating the Great Western Exploration. The discoveries came at the cost of Native tribes, and the atrocities committed in the name of expansion and progress are inexcusable. Lewis and Clark are often called "the good ones" (and it's true they negotiated with Native tribes more respectfully than most) but calling that a good negotiation is a bit like the pot calling the kettle black. I know that I live the life I live now because of everything in history that happened the way it did, the good and the terrible. But I still have a voice and a choice to acknowledge the wrongs and to make sure the Native side of the story gets told alongside the rest of it. We'll cross many more Lewis and Clark sites before this trip is over. I'll keep stopping, and I'll keep repecting whose land we're standing on.

The Continental Divide — A Bigger Deal Than I Realized

Driving toward Lima, we kept passing solo cyclists loaded with sleeping bags and tents, clearly covering serious miles. At Beaverhead RV Park we saw more of them. We were on or near the Continental Divide Trail, and Lima is one of its official gateway communities, but I'll admit I didn't fully understand what that meant until I looked it up.

I stand corrected. The Continental Divide is a bigger deal than I gave it credit for.

The Divide is the ridge of high ground (mostly along the crest of the Rocky Mountains) that determines which ocean a raindrop reaches. Water falling west of it drains toward the Pacific. Water falling east of it flows toward the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico. The Continental Divide National Scenic Trail follows it for 3,100 miles between Mexico and Canada, passing through Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Colorado, and New Mexico. It's one of the three legs of the long-distance hiking "Triple Crown," alongside the Appalachian and Pacific Crest Trails. Each year, somewhere between 150 and 400 people attempt to thru-hike the whole thing. Crazy!

A few facts that I found particularly interesting:

At Triple Divide Peak in Glacier National Park (which we're heading toward in a couple of weeks) precipitation can flow toward three different bodies of water: the Pacific, the Atlantic via the Gulf of Mexico, and Hudson Bay. One peak, three oceans.

At Two Ocean Creek in Wyoming, a single stream splits and simultaneously sends water to both the Atlantic and the Pacific.

Last Campground on our way to Grand Teton

The last campground before arriving at Grand Teton was a small, family-owned campground with only 8 sites. It was right on a major road, yet rather quiet. We had some rain that day, and it was cold, but it didn’t deter us from heading down to the restaurant that was within walking distance to grab a small dinner before heading into Grand Teton National Park the next morning.

Next up: Grand Teton National Park.