Floating Upstream: there: swan valley, week one

Three years ago someone suggested on this very blog that there should be a verb "to Montana." I heartily agreed then, and I agree even more heartily now. In addition, I think there should be a verb "to Bob," about which more below.

the creek is both heard and seen from the cabin porch

We're back in the log cabin in Swan Valley, on the shores of a creek where we stayed three summers ago when Sava was six and Raya was two. Raya is now almost six, and Sava is nine. Three years ago, it still very much felt like we had a toddler; we couldn't let the kids roam unsupervised, and we certainly couldn't tell them to "go play in the creek," as we've been doing for the past week.

he's wearing "weed snot"

first full-body dunk! the water is quite cold

Their play outside now is carefree, boundless, and full of the stuff of imagination. I peek on occasion to hear their voices, but I don't always see them. Sava's been told that he is in charge, and he takes his supervisory role quite seriously. The two of them get into minor scrapes on average half a dozen times each day, but four out of five times they settle disputes without an adult intervention. That's good. That means we almost feel as if we're on vacation ourselves. Almost.

It really is lovely here, and we find ourselves having to justify, even to locals, why we love it so much on this little creek. The sound of the water lulls us to sleep every night. The creek is there for the kids to romp in on average three or four times each day, as the fancy strikes them. (In the series of photos above, we came back to the cabin in pouring rain, and they started building a "bridge" out of rocks in the middle of the creek, while it was still raining; over the course of an hour, the bridge morphed into a "lake," of which they are very proud.) Up and down Hwy 83, off which the cabin is located, there are dozens of other creeks and lakes. Wilderness areas, including majestic mountains, border the highway on both sides. The landscape is as preserved and pristine as anything that can be found in North America. We're not so far from civilization that we have to fend for ourselves, but we also feel pretty remote. In the words of Sava, who's now said this several times during the past week, "I wish this cabin was ours."

the sprinkler is watering new saplings at the edge of the property; it is their last "play" before shower and bed

It's not, but we love it as if it were.

above and below: before and after yet another "full-body dunk" in the creek

And we really like to Montana.

he's cutting sticks for her with an axe (!), and she's making a "museum" of tepees

:::
We also, apparently, like to Bob. Bob knows how to tie a canoe to the top of his car and show up at a time and place that's been promised to offer fishing. Bob knows how to canoe and fish from a canoe. Bob knows how to dissect a fish. Bot knows silly rhymes and delights in reciting them to little kids while they ride in his child-seat-deficient car. Bob, in other words, is our children's hero.

Bob is especially Sava's hero. Sava's been waiting for months to "fish in Montana." He's been reading about it, talking about it, and spinning rich fantasies about it. He has, apparently, yet to catch a fish on his own, but his trips this week to Spook Lake and Van Lake already hold a place in his museum of Montana Memories.

I thought three years ago, when he first got introduced to the idea of fly-fishing, that Sava has the soul of someone who might some day live to fish. I am now fully convinced that he has the soul of someone whose life will be intimately connected with the outdoors. I think he will fish, but he'll also climb, bike, hike, and do many other things. He'll never not be close to nature, and he will seek out that closeness at any cost.

And while Raya's more of an unknown in that regard, she is, as I wrote recently, a terrific sport when it comes to family activities. It took us a couple of days this week to figure out that she might have been feeling under the weather (a big swollen node finally gave it away). Even so, she's played happily with her brother outside at every opportunity and, after a day of rest, she joined Sava to Bob on Van Lake. We discovered Van Lake on a whim when we first stayed in this cabin three years ago, and it remains one of our favorite lakes of all times. The first time we found it, we shared it with only one kayak; yesterday, we shared it with two other boats and a family of loons. The quiet serenity of the lake surpasses words.

loons!

Bobbing Van Lake was fun.
:::
Other happenings on the homestead over the past week included pulling someone's *first* tooth very slowly, over the course of an entire day.

she's not as tough about pain as Sava; only Rado has this kind of patience--

see the tiny gap?

Dry-fishing (and getting one line so entangled that Pa, who knows nothing about this stuff, had to spend thirty minutes disentangling).

the loft is one of our favorite things about this cabin

Reading and playing games.

And watching, as closely as possible without disturbing them, a family of robins feed their babies in a nest on the eaves of the cabin. Rado is convinced that the parents are irked by our presence and have been pooping on the deck chairs on purpose. The babies started out tiny and helpless-seeming,

got constant deliveries of food over several days,

she watched us from a distance with food in her mouth, then flew to the babies when we weren't looking

and today were out of the nest, looking all self-important and grown-up, flapping their wings and attempting to fly.

yes, that's one of the "babies"!

The kids are enchanted.

:::

Last but by no means least, today we finally ventured for one of those wilderness hikes that abound all up and down this amazing stretch of land. Three years ago we visited beautiful Glacier Lake. Today we drove seven miles down the highway, and then seven miles into the wilderness, to hike two miles in to Cold Lake. Besides seeing the lake, we had the ulterior motive of trying to find early huckleberries. The cabin owner told us that, because of the drought, huckleberries were growing earlier and he had heard that there were some at Cold Lake. When we arrived at 10 am, there were no other cars in the parking lot. We spent a good hour picking and eating berries, and we got envious glances when, on our way back, the locals told us that they now knew who had picked all the "hucks." Sava declared, early in the hike, that the huckleberries made this "one of the best hikes ever."

she gave up picking earlier than anyone and simply ate

This is some of what we got.

This is a landscape where vegetation abounds in a way that is starkly different from Northern California.

So many of my pictures are vertical because it is important, as one observer to others, to convey the sense of magnitude. This is territory in which everyone you meet carries bear spray and/or firearms on their belt. One dude had a huge axe today, but we think he was carrying it to improve the trail, not kill a bear. Our kids sang, clapped, and yelled during the entire hike. We don't know exactly what to do if we meet a bear, but we know that it's likely the bear would be running away from our noise.

doesn't this meadow just look like it should have a bear in it?

The lake, as other mountainous lakes on trails leading up to them, is always the most expected and most delightful surprise.

the lake is just behind those trees

Sava claims that he caught and released thirty butterflies

the water is crystal clear

The lakeshore had the largest congregation of butterflies we have ever seen, and the children spent a good deal of time catching and then releasing them.