Bittersweet trip! I can just see your mom drinking in that place that holds so many memories for her. I'm glad she was able to make that long drive. No matter the future, it will always be a formative part of you!
Living out there a couple of winters (64 & 65 - equal-distant from Ekalaka, Alzada & Hammond if I remember right - was the Ridgway place) gave me huge respect for the ranching families. Initiative, hard work, ingenuity, fun loving community hall dances and more. One of those winters was brutal; hundreds of sheep and cattle died. (snow is easier to deal with than gumbo in the Spring.) About 15 years ago we were visiting one of the next generation ranchers, and he promptly put us in his pickup and headed to the fields., no roads. He wanted to show us the place. He had a story for every stop he made on the tour - "here's where I had to pull the calf out of the mud - he was in pretty tough shape so I took him back to the house to nurse back to health." That's just one of the stories he told; his pride in the place was palpable. Jack Owen, if you happened to know the family. His dad, Richie, had a plane to monitor the land and livestock. Wish we had had the video camera to record - it was quintessential. Thanks for the memory of the time, place, and culture. Suzy
This is a beautiful piece, Russell. I too, am attached to a ranch that belonged to my grandparents in the Bear Paw Mountains of north central Montana. This article certainly struck a chord in my heart.
Bittersweet trip! I can just see your mom drinking in that place that holds so many memories for her. I'm glad she was able to make that long drive. No matter the future, it will always be a formative part of you!
Living out there a couple of winters (64 & 65 - equal-distant from Ekalaka, Alzada & Hammond if I remember right - was the Ridgway place) gave me huge respect for the ranching families. Initiative, hard work, ingenuity, fun loving community hall dances and more. One of those winters was brutal; hundreds of sheep and cattle died. (snow is easier to deal with than gumbo in the Spring.) About 15 years ago we were visiting one of the next generation ranchers, and he promptly put us in his pickup and headed to the fields., no roads. He wanted to show us the place. He had a story for every stop he made on the tour - "here's where I had to pull the calf out of the mud - he was in pretty tough shape so I took him back to the house to nurse back to health." That's just one of the stories he told; his pride in the place was palpable. Jack Owen, if you happened to know the family. His dad, Richie, had a plane to monitor the land and livestock. Wish we had had the video camera to record - it was quintessential. Thanks for the memory of the time, place, and culture. Suzy
I love stories like that, Suzy. Thank you.
Good comments. I relate well to them. Mike
Wonderful, Russell. Thanks for taking me there with your story.
This is a beautiful piece, Russell. I too, am attached to a ranch that belonged to my grandparents in the Bear Paw Mountains of north central Montana. This article certainly struck a chord in my heart.
Love this one, Russell. Your work makes Montana real to me the way South Carolina is.
Thank you, my friend
Oh Russ! I feel all your words. Our family just celebrated our matriarch, Auntie Pat’s 90th. We all told our dairy farm childhood stories.
Suzy I know the Owens family Betty was in the same class as my oldest brother in Ekalaka. I loved those dances.
Russell—🥲
I feel sad to think it is the last trip. I don't think that I will ever return to Ekalaka my old home town again though.