Alan Phillip (Big Al) Thompson's
Bicentennial Bicycle Retrace of
The Lewis and Clark Trail
from Saint Louis, Missouri, on 06/22/2005
to Astoria and Seaside, Oregon, ~09/01/2005
Bicycle Road Trip Report 8 of 10, 08/18/2005
August 12, 1805 – Meriwether Lewis: (sic) "the road took us to the most distant fountain of the waters of the mighty Missouri in surch of which we have spent so many toilsome days and wristless nights. thus far I had accomplished one of those great objects on which my mind has been unalterably fixed for many years ... (Private Hugh) McNeal had exultantly stood with a foot on each side of this little rivulet and thanked his god that he had lived to bestride the mighty and heretofore deemed endless Missouri." (sic)
Dear Family and Friends,
Two hundred years and two days after Meriwether Lewis and three members of the Corps of Discovery (one of whom was Private Hugh McNeal) crested Lemhi Pass at the Continental Divide, I too had a chance to bestride the headwaters of the Mighty Missouri. I placed my feet on either side of a tiny rivulet issuing forth from a small spring just below the pass - the headwaters of the longest river in the United States - yep, even longer than the Mississippi River into which the Missouri flows.
The day before my climb to Lemhi Pass, the highest point on the trail at 7323 feet, I stayed with Mike and Judy Simonsen, who run a very informal bed and breakfast of sorts in Grant, Montana — population 14. I felt guilty about paying just $20 for a bed for the night, plus an elk steak dinner which Mike, an avid hunter, prepared for me ... and then a full country breakfast whipped up by Barb. Their isolated little town of Grant — a ghost town really — is locted in what is known as Shoshoni Cove, a beautiful highland area surrounded 360 degrees by mountains. Before dinner, Mike and I piled into his truck, and he drove me out to a nearby pasture to view an elk herd ruled over by a huge bull elk with a massive rack of antlers. First time I've petted a bull elk on the nose. Barb and Mike were great hosts and even signed on to become sponsors for my journey. Barb's mom is also seriously ill with cancer. Sally and Jim, who I met at a roadside tavern a couple days later, also took an interest in my trip and added their names to my growing list. (Still not too late to sign on if you know of any potential sponsors.)
After Barb's hearty breakfast, I began my climb to Lemhi Pass with temperatures hovering in the low 40's (it had dropped to 32 during the night). But it was a pristine kind of morning — the skies were deep blue; the winds far, gentle, and from behind; the mountains blanketed with their late summer mantle of brown interrupted here and there by stands of fragrant pine. I climbed ever higher, but didn't feel I was working that hard as the grade was not severe. And before you know it, I was at 7,323 feet — Lemhi Pass. Who was there to greet me? None other than Private Hugh McNeal (aka Mike Crosby) with his 1805 garb, flintlock musket, and hunting pouch. Mike actually works for the Bureau Of Land Management (BLM) and reenacts his chosen member of the Corps. This has been a passion of his for quite a few years. The following day down in Salmon, Idaho, I would find out at the Sacajawea Interpretive Center that Mike is the author of a book, "Joined By A Journey," all about the personal lives of each of member of the Corps of Discovery — a book that I purchased and had him sign.
The ride up to Lemhi Pass was a fairly easy and manageable grade, but the ride down was a white knuckle kind of experience. The grade was extreme, the road unimproved gravel, and being just a little out of control could send you plummeting over the unguarded edge. Letting go of my brake levers for even three or four seconds could spell disaster, and I had to pull over a number of times to let the heat dissipate from my wheel rims. Lower down the grade finally eased, and I breathed a little easier, making it safely to the beautiful Lemhi Valley below.
As Lewis did on that very same day after walking to the other side of the Continental Divide, I too refreshed myself from the waters of the Columbia River Basin, for now all the streams are running west to the mighty Columbia River and the Pacific Ocean.
I followed the course of the Lemhi River into Salmon, Idaho, and the wonderful Sacjawea Interpretive Center and was greeted by a beautiful statue of the young Shoshoni girl. Here the Corps of Discovery II, under the direction of the National Park Service, had set up their traveling display on many aspects of the Expedition. They have been visiting all of the important cities along the Trail. Later in the week a group of reenactors, who are retracing the route of the Corps according to the actual dates and modes of travel, would be coming in on horseback — remember, at this point they had left their canoes behind. Included in this group is Bud Clark, the great great great grandson of William Clark.
The Lemhi River feeds into the Salmon River and, in late August 1805, Bud's great great great grandfather, William, did a reconaissance of the Salmon River. He needed to determine if the Corps could navigate the river in canoes and eventually reach the Columbia River. Instead, he found out why the Salmon is called the "River Of No Return." Rejoining Lewis with the news that the river was an unnavigable, turbulent series of dangerous, canoe splitting rapids, the Corps headed north up and over Lost Trail Pass into the Bitterroot Valley in search of an Indian path over the formidable Bitterroot Mountains — in the words of Sergeant Patrick Gass of the Corps, "the most terrible mountains I ever beheld."
My climb up Lost Trail Pass was a long hard pull, but the reward was a spectacular eight-mile downhill — paved, thank goodness — and this time I was not too shy about letting it fly.
In Sula, Montana, population 50, I stopped at the general store and cafe to restoke my engine, and as I was preparing to set off again, I heard a familiar voice call out, "Hi, Al!" It was John Erhardt, a friend of my niece, Amy, who works for the Idaho Department of Fish and Game. John was on his way back from a fly fishing excursion into Montana, and he and his friend, Eric, just happened to stop for a couple of cool drinks at the Sula general store. A small world, indeed!
Following now the Bitterroot River, I emerged onto the broad and agriculturally productive Bitterroot Valley nestled between the Sapphire Mountains to the east and the lofty, brooding Bitterroot Mountains to the west — the mountains whose craggy heights and early snows would almost spell doom for the Corps of Discovery.
And so here I am in Missoula, Montana, closing in on 3000 miles, resting a day or two as the Corps did 200 years ago at a location nearby that Lewis called Traveler's Rest. My next stop — the Bitterroot Mountains — "the most terrible mountains I ever beheld."
As always, I am proceeding on.
— Al Thompson
P.S. Those with lists, please pass on to anyone interested.
P.S.S. See attached photos: 828 Me bestriding the Missouri; 829 At Lemhi Pass; 830 Clark Canyon Reservoir where Camp Fortunate is now under water - where Lewis and Clark negotiated with the Shoshoni for horses; 831 Elk; 832 Climbing Lemhi Pass
