My journalism journey, part 12

Wally and Margie Mundstock liked to explore the back roads, and they got me involved in that from the start. The second weekend I was there, they took me up in "Burby," their Suburban, along with Puff, their dog, who came everywhere with them, up into the mountains of Lost Creek State Park near Anaconda. The roads weren't great (well, I was from the Chicago area; I was used to the paved roads with potholes. Most of these roads weren't paved, and some were just snowmobile trails). But Burby could go everywhere, and so we went.
Along the way, there were some wild irises, and Margie wanted some for her garden. I don't know how legal it was to dig irises out of state park land, but we stopped to do just that. (Margie and Wally are dead now, so there can be no repercussions.) Puff stayed near; Margie made sure she didn't run off. She was a toy poodle and was older than even the Mundstocks' youngest daughter, JoNae.
From that first outing, I gained a love of exploring. I tried to get out at least once a week to go up in the mountains, try a new road, go a little higher, a little farther, and see something new. I had a Forest Service map to guide me. Sometimes it helped, sometimes ... well, I just got lost. I had no GPS, just that map and my own good sense. I always found my way home somehow.
One day I went up the mountain and came out the other side into Dillon. Don't ask me how I got there; I don't remember anymore. It was a beautiful drive and it was late spring, in May. There was still snow on the road in some places. Once I got to Dillon, I knew where I was and headed back on the interstate.
I had enjoyed fishing when I was younger and had a fishing pole and tackle box, so one weekend I bought some worms and looked for a lake at which to fish. I was not quite fishing like those in "A River Runs Through it." I was sitting there, feeding the baby fish, casting and sitting enjoying the sun when someone came behind me and touched me on my shoulder.
I almost jumped into the lake. There was Wally, laughing. I couldn't believe he went to the same lake as I did for the afternoon.
I loved going up to this place called Crystal Park. We traveled up through the Big Hole and then up a road that was little more than a snowmobile road. Along the way were big meadows of wildflowers. Occasionally, I'd see a moose or elk or deer. One time, there was a mama moose with her baby.
When we arrived at the park, there was a picnic area and then a large mountain with a big hole where all the big crystals were. Ray would go up the mountain to dig; I'd stay at the bottom and dig around the bottom because my legs didn't like climbing. I still have some crystals from there: amethysts and quartzes.
One of my favorite places to drive to was the Skalkaho Pass. It was only open when the snow melted, and that could be as late as June sometimes. It was high up in the Pintlar Mountains and at some points only a single car could pass. But when you got up to the top, a beautiful waterfall awaited the driver.
And what a waterfall it was during a season when the snowmelt was plentiful. The first time I saw it was during a drought and the runoff was low, but it was still breathtaking. But the next time ... well, that was another matter.
It was right before I was going to leave for South Dakota and my next job. I took my little brother, Ray, up with me. We wandered around many places along the road, including one place I had never seen before. On my Forest Service map, it's called the Frog Pond. I'm not sure why; we didn't see any frogs. The other times when I was there when there was a drought, I didn't see the area. I guess the recent heavy snow melt had made it more verdant.
We left that area and continued up to the top to the waterfall. The water was gushing down the side of the mountain and over the road, so much more than it had the other times I had been there. We pulled over and took photos, and Ray walked around the rocks, enjoying the water coming down.
I always remember that outing, for how green and lush Montana could be at times; contrasted with how brittle and brown it had been sometimes. The previous fall, we had wildfires in Yellowstone, with the smoke blowing over the passes into our valley. When the kids played football that fall, the smoke hung over the stadium like an unhealthy cloud.
There were so many wonderful places to explore in Montana: the Bitterroots, Glacier Park, Lost Creek, Georgetown Lake, and Yellowstone River. In five years, I got to see a lot of it, but not as much as I wanted.
But the beauty of the Frog Pond has stayed with me all these years, as some place I want to return to someday, to sit and stay and remember the glories of Big Sky Country.