Montana - Day 2...

After a good night's sleep, I did some photo editing and then went down to my buddy's restaurant for some lunch. The guy's a crazy good cook, and he made me a bacon cheeseburger from the dark side. We shot some pool, had a beer, and then I asked where some good photo ops might be. He recommended Kootenai Creek (pronounced, if you believe the locals, "Koot-knee Krick").

I hopped in the truck and drove about six miles south, to the turn-off for Kootenai Creek.

There were other cars in the lot, but I didn't see anyone. Two of the cars had kayak racks on top, although I never did say them, either. I grabbed my gear and headed up the trail.

As you approach the trail head, there are a number of signs which alert you to the various things to keep in mind when hiking in environments like this. There was one, in particular, which grabbed my attention:

I'm pretty sure that meeting up with either one would represent
a dramatic change in how your day was progressing...

But they weren't all so serious, either. Folks up here love their dogs, and they're plentiful on the back country trails. I guess, then, that this is only fitting:

Humans pay no mind...

Basically, the idea is to stay safe. This isn't a bad idea. After all, out here, you can get seriously hurt. I'm not talkin' "I think I sprained a knuckle" hurt, I'm talking "medivac" hurt. So, it's good to keep the basics of safety and sanity in mind. As I'd be carrying gear with me, I decided to take it slow and easy.

The Kootenai is, to me, anyway, a lot more than a creek. Or even a krick for that matter. It was flowing strong, and I heard it as soon as I got out of the truck. I was eager to head up and get some shooting done. I grabbed the 5D and my tripod and hit the trail.

If this is a "creek", I'm Julius Caesar. Creeks are shallow, slow moving waterways that guys like Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer would go fishing in. I don't know what this would be called, but it sure didn't strike me as being very creek-like:

 

Kootenai Creek in Florence, Montana...

 

This was moving a little too fast to be a "creek"...

 

Kayakers love this stuff...

 

Standing on a rock outcropping over the creek, about 60 feet up...

 

I would've liked to have continued up the trail but, after about a mile or so, it started to train. I didn't have rain gear for me or the camera, so I thought it best to head back to the truck. I made a right onto Highway 93, down to the town of Stevensville. There wasn't a lot there, but I recall someone mentioning the Bitterroot River, so I thought I'd check it out:

 

The Bitterroot River...

 

Not far from where the picture above was taken was this pristine little lake. I was diggin' how the trees reflected:

 

As far as I could tell, this lake actually has no name... But it probably does...

 

After walking around for a while, I walked back to the truck and drove back to my buddy Chris' restaurant. We shot pool for a bit and had a couple beers, and then I decided to head back to the house. I was tired, and I wanted to get a jump on editing photos. So, I climbed back in the truck again, started it up, put it in "REVERSE" and...

 

Nothing.

 

The truck didn't move.

 

I put it back into "PARK" and then back into "REVERSE". It did nothing at first and then, with a loud clunking sound, it started to back up. I shifted it into "DRIVE", and heard a sound that I normally don't associate with a transmission which is in good repair. It sounded horrible. Once it would shift out of 1st gear, though, it was smooth sailing. When I got back to the house, I backed into the parking spot and, when I stopped the truck, all I could hear was the sound of metal scraping on whatever metal scrapes on to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

 

Thankfully, Chris knows a guy here in town who's a great mechanic. Even though he's giving me a nice deal on the work, the reality is that I hadn't exactly budgeted for a new transmission. But it is what it is, and no amount of worrying is going to change the reality that I'm going to be in Florence until Saturday morning, instead of Kansas City, Missouri, which was the original plan.

 

Now, with all that said, I'm actually pretty fortunate. I'm fortunate in that I made it to Florence. I'm fortunate that it happened here, and not, say, 150 miles east of Rapid City, South Dakota. I'm not shelling out eighty bucks a night for a hotel room. This is where friends come through.

 

I'm not yet sure just how much this is going to impact the "photo op" aspect of this trip. Yes, I still have a good amount of time to get to Pennsylvania. But I'd hoped to spend that time; those three weeks, shooting my way across America instead of worrying about when I'll stop and for how long. I'll adjust my itinerary as needed, though. There are things which, frankly, I have no intention of missing. Some places can be set aside for another time.

 

The bottom line is that, when my transmission went, I was deflated. Big time. But the important thing, I believe, is to not quit. I had a goal when I left Portland, and I need to do what I can to try to stick to the plan which will, hopefully, get me to that goal.

 

So I just won't quit...



Portland To Florence...

My plan was to leave Portland at 6:00am and, to be honest, I impressed myself by actually getting on the road by 6:20am. I bid farewell to Carrie and Eric, my two dear friends who put up with me living in their basement for the last week, and climbed into the Explorer.

 

Ah, yes, the Explorer. I don't believe I've mentioned it, but the ol' girl needed some attention before embarking on this trip. For the last few months, it had been doing this thing where, after about 300 miles or so, the engine temperature would start to climb. I'd been dealing with it by just adding coolant every 300 miles, but I didn't really want to be doing that across the United States and, besides, something was definitely wrong and needed attention. So, some $1,208.22 later, I had a new thermostat, thermostat housing, serpentine belt, and some various sundry things which just made me feel all warm and fuzzy about having addressed.

 

She's runnin' like a champ.

 

 

 

The TomTom GPS unit, which had failed me so miserably on my trip from San Diego to Portland, has decided to begin working again. I wouldn't buy another one, just because it's mildly clumsy, but I have this one now, and it's working, so that's good enough for me.

 

I punched in "Florence, MT - Center", and pulled away.

 

The road, my TomTom, and Boo...

 

The start of the trip was was wet. I'd checked the weather forecasts, and it actually looked as though I would be stuck in rain until I got to Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

 

No bueno.

 

I'd deal with it, though, simply because there really wouldn't be an option. As it turned out, though, the weather began to clear just before I crossed into Washington and, with the exception of an occasional drop here and there, the weather remained clear for the entire trip to Florence.

 

In the six months I spent in Portland, I never ventured past the small town of Hood River when driving on I-84. This would be a first for me, and I was surprised at how different the topography was, once I cruised past Hood River and into eastern Washington, compared to Portland and points west:

 

 

 

 

 

The road gone by...

 

The road went by quickly enough and, thankfully, there was no rain to contend with. It wasn't long before I found myself having passed completely through Washington and into Idaho:

 

And those driving into the State for seven miles will never feel welcome, apparently...

 

I've been telling myself that I need to force myself to stop and do some shooting. When I'm making good time, though, I want to continue making good time. I'd stopped only for gas and lunch, but pulled off of I-90 when I got to the town of Wallace, Idaho.

 

I'd had several people tell me to stop off in Wallace. "Oh, you're a photographer? You have to go to Wallace!"

Who was I to argue?

 

Wallace is an old mining town in the panhandle region of Idaho. It's mining heyday was in the 1890's, when Wallace was the third most populated city in the State. Now, it's largely a collection of antique shops and, for its population of only 784, a lot of bars and restaurants. "Funky" is a word I would use to describe a lot of what's here:

 

This used to be a bus. Then it was a diner. Now I think it's a bus again...

 

These boys take they huntin' serious...

 

Seriously... It's right here... 

 

An old Texaco gas station sign. The old Texaco gas station is long gone...
 

A restaurant with an identity crisis...

Not quite like Vegas...

 

Walking along, I came upon the Northern Pacific Depot Railroad Museum. It's a small museum with a lot of memorabilia from when Wallace was a thriving mining town:

 

The Northern Pacific Depot Railroad Museum... 

The Telegraph Office inside the depot...

This was the women's waiting room (they were not permitted to wait with the gentlemen back in the day). The flag above the door is one which was flown during President Theodore Roosevelt's visit in 1903...

The view from a second floor window in the depot...

 

Now, if you find yourself saying "Huh, what a quaint little town. They should film a movie there", you would not be the first person to say that. In 1980, portions of the movie "Heaven's Gate", starring Kris Kristofferson and Christopher Walken, were filmed here and, more recently (the summer of 1996), Wallace served as the fictional town of Dante's Peak, in the movie of the same name, which starred Pierce Brosnan and Linda Hamilton.

 

As I wandered through the quiet, almost deserted streets, I came upon Wallace Brewing: 

 

Wallace Brewing...

I walked in, and was surprised to find that I was only one of two people in the entire place, the other being brewer Chase Sanborn:

Brewmeister Chase Sanborn...

 

Chase was an affable enough guy who cheerfully served up a rather tasty pale ale:

 

The "Dirty Blonde Pale Ale"...

 

Chase and I began talking, and I'd asked about the movies that were filmed here. While he wasn't here for "Heaven's Gate", he was here for "Dante's Peak. That movie used locals for extras and, in fact, Chase is in the movie. He told me he played the News Director standing behind Pierce Brosnan in the gymnasium scene.

 

Now I gotta' go watch that movie again.

 

Chase invited me to walk around and check things out, so I did. As I walked among the huge brew tanks, I found a placard with "The Beer Prayer":

 

I can only imagine the beer version of "Hail Mary"...

 

When I came back into the main room, Chase was talking to some folks who, like me, had pulled off the interstate and wandered in for a cold one. You could tell he was enjoying this. It was obvious that he loved talking about beer and Wallace and movies. He was a great guy, and he's probably one of the reasons people say "You have to go to Wallace".

 

Chase Sanborn chatting up some customers...

 

After buying a t-shirt and finishing my beer, I bid farewell. I did, after all, have a little bit of a drive in front of me, and needed to get back out on the road. I got back to the truck, fired the engine, and pulled back out onto I-90, still some 130 miles from Florence.

 

It wasn't too long before I was passing into Montana. The drive was good and the roads were clear and, as you can see, there was nothing but sunshine. I was crossing the state line and making the final push to Florence:

 

Welcome to "The Treasure State"...

Sure, it's the end of May; three weeks before the start of summer. Why do you ask?

 

As I always do, I looked for things to shoot. I saw a sign that said "Natural Pier", and decided it was worth checking out. I never did find that pier, but I did find a cool, old single lane bridge which, to look at it, you'd swear would collapse under the slightest strain. Not so. I drove across, parked the Explorer, and grabbed my camera:

 

 

 

 

 

It was dicey...

The view from mid-span. The water was crystal clear...

Railroad tracks on the south side of the bridge...

The St. Regis River...



I made a left...

 

I didn't stop after finding that bridge, and I made my way into Missoula, and then into Florence, before too long. I found my buddy Chris' restaurant, and pulled into the parking lot. As I did, a little bit of rain started to fall, but it was okay. I'd had a great drive without it, so I couldn't complain now. I pulled my jacket on and walked to the door of the Bum Steer, and the end of 11 hours in the truck and my first day's drive...

 

At the Bum Steer in Florence, Montana...

 

So, You All Ready?

People have been asking me, seemingly every day, if I'm "ready".

 

Yeah, I think I'm ready.

 

What lies before me is, really, a bucket-list level trip. I just don't see where I'll have the opportunity to do something like this in the future. This excites me. The first time I drove cross country, I did it in three days. This time around,  I'll be taking 24 days. The first time, I wasn't a "photographer". Rather, I was a guy who owned a camera. This time around, I'll have my Canon 5D, my Canon 40D and a host of lenses with which to record my trip. I'll shoot video with my Canon G12 during the drive and add it to the blog. Oh, and don't worry, I've got a camera mount and a remote for the G12, so it won't be like I've got the thing up to my face so I can shoot while driving.

 

I've one more trip to make to my storage unit which, at the end of August, will be shipped to Florida. I'll clean my old place and drop off the keys. I'll wash the truck (assuming the fabulous northwest weather permits it) and fill the tank. Sunday night the truck will get packed.

 

I don't know what else I have to do to be "ready".

 

Portland has been good. The six months I've spent here have made me look at things differently; more closely. I know I don't regret coming here. I think, when I look back, I'll see that these six months gave me time to be far more introspective than I've been able to be in the past. Long drives to places like Mount St. Helens or Silver Falls or Cottage Grove will give a person time to think and consider, and I did just that.

 

So, when I press the gas pedal early Monday morning, it will certainly be with fond memories of Portland. But I'll also be looking forward to what lies ahead. After travelling all over the world, I've always said that there's a lot, right here at home, for us to see.

 

So I'm going to go find it...



Shanghai Tunnels...

Okay, so I have this "thing" that I do when the opportunity presents itself. It's kinda' weird, I suppose. But it's cool, I think, in its own little way.
 

I'm a big fan of the television show "Ghost Adventures" on Travel Channel. So, whenever I get the chance, I like to visit sites that they've investigated on their show. I know, I told you. It's weird.
 

In the past, I've visited Old Fort Niagara in Youngstown, New York. I've walked the terrepleins of the Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine, Florida. I've also visited the Hotel Cosmopolitan in Old Town, San Diego many times.
 

So, I decided that, before I left Portland, I would visit yet another of what I refer to as a "GAS", or "Ghost Adventures Site".
 

Yeah, I know. It doesn't get any less weird.
 

I decided to grab the 5D and, after work, head down to what's known as the "Shanghai Tunnels", also known as the Portland Underground.
 

The term "to Shanghai" refers to the practice of conscripting men as sailors by coercive techniques. This often included simply grabbing drunk men and taking them into the tunnels below the city. The tunnels were originally used to move goods from one place to another, within the city, in such a way as to avoid streetcars and trains.
 

In the underground, these kidnapped, or "Shanghaied", men would sober up and be held until a ship in need of more crew was ready to get underway. They would then be transferred to the ships, again while underground, to those ships, and forced to go to sea. This practice was actually quite common on US merchant ships until as late as 1915.
 

So, why call it "Shanghai"? Well, the most commonly accepted theory is that China, particularly the port of Shanghai, was the destination for many of the ships manned with, let's say, "less than willing" crew members.

 

 

So, on Friday night, a small group of us met with a member of the Cascade Geographic Society, who would be conducting the tour. The Cascade Geographic Society is the only group permitted to give regular tours of the Portland Underground. We met at Hobo's Restaurant on NW 3rd Avenue and, after a brief, yet informative talk about what to expect, we were on our way.

Nita, who was our tour guide, gave a brief, yet informative, presentation about the tunnels before the tour got underway...

 

The tunnels weren't quite what I expected but, to be fair, this is an active excavation, and it's not like there are armies of people lining up to do the work. The tour area covers a relatively small area. It's no bigger than the block of building above, and is bordered by NW 3rd and NW 2nd Avenues, and NW Davis and NW Couch Streets to the north and south.

 

 

We walked from the courtyard, through a small breezeway, and out onto NW Davis Street. We made a left onto NW 3rd Avenue and stopped in front of Hobo's. A very non-descript set of doors, set into the concrete, led us into the tunnels:

The breezeway leading from the courtyard...

The stairway leading into the Shanghai Tunnels...

The group makes its way underground...

Once we got into the tunnels, the flashlights came on. While there was some dim overhead lighting, it was all very ow wattage. Thankfully, flash photography was permissible. Otherwise, I may not have come away with anything.

Looking back towards the entrance to the tunnels...

Our first stop was at what used to be a holding cell. Right next to it was an honest to goodness opium den:

What used to be a holding cell. Much of the four walled structure is gone now...

The opium den...

We then passed through a crude opening in a brick wall, which led us into the main portion of the Shanghai Tunnels:

The locked door leading to the main part of the tunnels...

One of several crudely formed portals throughout the tunnels...

Those who would snatch unwitting would-be sailors, known as "crimps", had a bit of a problem with some of their captives escaping. The doors which held them were simple wood and tin and, once a man was sobered up, he could easily kick his was out of this holding cell. The crimps then began not only taking boots and shoes, but they would also strew broken glass around the floor:

Boots and shoes found during the excavation...

As we made our way deeper into the tunnels, we were told stories of visitors who'd had their camera batteries die, their hair pulled or their clothes tugged on while passing through the tunnels. Hey, I'm always down for a good ghost story. But I had no such luck on this visit. My clothes remained unaccosted, and my camera batteries didn't inexplicably drain.

It's a little hard to imagine what it must have been like to be out drinking and having a good time with your buddies one minute, and then be locked up in a holding cell, beneath the bar you were just in, the next.

One of the holding cells in the tunnels...

This cigar store Indian statue was once wrapped up in blankets and sold by 
Joseph "Bunko" Kelly to a ship's captain as an able-bodied crewman...

A stuffed dummy lies on a mattress, below a trap door from the bar above. This is how men were taken...

Joseph "Bunko" Kelly. By his own estimation, he Shanghaied some 2,000 men between 1879 and 1894...

 

For me, one of the most astonishing things was to learn that no one, no even ol' "Bunko" Kelly, ever went to prison, or was even arrested, for "crimping". The practice was actually legal at the time. "Bunko" got himself charged with murder, though, and ended up a guest of the State at the Oregon State Penitentiary in Salem.   As I mentioned, the Shanghai Tunnels in Portland's Old North End is an ongoing excavation, with work continuing on an ongoing basis. As they continue to dig, they continue to find artifacts, and they're all too willing to put these on display:   Artifacts found during the excavation of the Shanghai Tunnels...   If you go to Shanghai Tunnels with the expectation of encountering a ghost, well, you're probably going to be disappointed. There may be some there, and there may not. But what you will get is a glimpse into a past that Portland, once known as the "Shanghai Capital of The World", is not at all proud of.   It's a part of Portland's history, though, and that's reason enough to check it out...

Gimme' Something... Anything...

Since I announced that I was leaving on what can only be described as an epic trip, a lot of folks have been e-mailing me and sending me private messages on Facebook asking me where I'll be going.

In all honesty, I know where I'm going to end up, and I know a few places between here and there that I want to stop and shoot. But most of my shooting tends to be off-the-cuff-knee-jerk stuff; I rarely have a plan. Now, that's not to say that I'm just gonna' fly by the seat of my pants for 4,000 miles. I do have my "must see" sights, but I'm also open to suggestion.

As it stands right now, my trip from Portland, Oregon to Poyntelle, Pennsylvania is going to take 25 days, and cover some 4,000 miles. Frankly, I think it would border on gross irresponsibility for a photographer to make such a trip and not have, at least, some things in mind to photograph.

I've been fortunate to have traveled in my life. I've been on five of the seven continents. I've been to dozens of countries. Hell, I've seen more of Canada than most Canadians. But there's an awful lot right here at home that's worth the effort. This trip is going to take me from the Pacific Northwest, to the Northeast and then ultimately, to northern Florida once the summer is over. When all is said and done, I'll have visited the following:

• Oregon
• Washington
• Idaho
• Montana
• Wyoming
• South Dakota
• Nebraska
• Missouri
• Tennessee
• Kentucky
• West Virginia
• Pennsylvania
• New York
• Maryland
• Virginia
• North Carolina
• South Carolina
• Georgia
• Florida

Needless to say, that's a whole buncha' road time. And, with a lot of road time comes the opportunity to pull over and shoot. That's what I'm excited to be able to do on this trip. Yeah, I'll be cruising a lot of freeways. But I'm also going to try to hit the small state routes that go through little towns with names you'll never find on any map.

I envision finding some old gas station somewhere, with the old analog numbers on the pumps, just waiting to be committed to megapixels. My mind reels at the number of old, broken down barns I'm going to see (Has anyone actually seen a new one?). And I can imagine sitting at the counter in a roadside diner, eating the greasiest breakfast within 250 miles, and falling for the imagery of a decor that hasn't been in style since the Johnson administration.

But, yeah, I've got some "definites", too. One of the first places I thought of when I started planning this trip was Mt. Rushmore. I plan on spending two nights in Rapid City, South Dakota because I really want to be able to shoot it at night. Someone mentioned something about the Crazy Horse Memorial, and asked if I was going to go. I had no idea where it was, but a little research reveals that it's not all too far from Mt. Rushmore, so both can be fit into a single day trip.

A friend asked me if I was going to visit Devil's Tower. You might be saying "Hmmm, sounds familiar", and you would be right. Devil's Tower is the site of the final climactic scene from "Close Encounters Of The Third Kind". Richard Dreyfuss went nuts for the place. Well, for whatever reason, I always thought it was somewhere in southwestern Wyoming. Well, come to find out it lies about 30 miles to the north of the main route between Sheridan, Wyoming (where I'm going to spend a night) and Rapid City. Round trip off the freeway, it's only about an hour out of the way.

Had my buddy never mentioned it, though, I wouldn't have even thought about looking for it. A potentially amazing photo opportunity would've skirted by to the north, and I never would've seen it.

The first leg of my trip, at least from Missoula to Sioux Falls, is going to be spend, primarily, on I-90. I'll be passing through some amazing scenery, and I suspect I'll be rolling through some historic small towns when I venture off the Interstate. After that, it'll be a hodgepodge of freeways, State and County roads to get me to where I need to be.

So, with that in mind, if you know of any "must see" things between Portland, Oregon and Poyntelle, Pennsylvania, don't be shy; lemme' hear 'em! I've got 45 gigs of memory just itchin' for a good time!