The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1914-11-19
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The preparation for the return to the
car was made little before five, when
the camping ground was cleared up, and
utensils. etc., packed. The apple box
made brilliant farewell fire around
which college songs were sung. Old and
new favorites were rendered on the way
home-including "a Hot Time,'' which
the head of the history department said
is now being used as the English war
song. The car reached town about six,
and 19l4's faculty picnic passed into his
tory as a decidedly successful affair.
The next morning the weather looked
bit doubtful for our proposed outing,
and not until the teams appeared at the
door did we decide to risk the threatened
showers ard fare forth, as opportunities
for all-aay outings after November 1st
are apt to be limited. When we finally did
decide, such hustling as ensued at COG!
1t was an hour later than originally in
tended when our little party set out-the
Schoppe family, our Maine girl, Mary
Chase of Bluehill, and Wills friend,
Mr.. Morris of the Biology department, a
native Montanian hailing from Virginia
City, where early Montana history was
made by the wholesale in the mining and
vigilante days. We decided on Bridger
Canyon as our objective point, and drove
out past the flour mills, over the big
mill ditch" and around the curve that
seems to bring Old Badly and the Bridger
range so much closer. Soon the flags of
the fish hatchery and Bridger range sta
lion made a note of color against the
brown and deep green of the mountain
sides, and just before the entrance to
the Canyon the Hatchery buildings, very
different in architecture from typical
Montana dwellings, was passed. Bridger
is the nearest and one of the most pic
turesque of the canyons, whose rock
walls are chisled in wonderful forma
lions. Bridger Creek locally called
''crik'O rushes along at the base of the
mountains, wooded on one side, and
eroded stone on the other. The canyon
is comparatively short, and opens out
into valley of rich ranches. AS we
drove along we noticed typical western
sight-a bunch of horses and cattle being
rounded up and brought down to the
home ranch from the range by one rider
and his helper-a trained shepherd dog.
A threshing outfit cook camp and
all-on their way to ranch six miles up
the valley gave US few anxious mo-
and drove on up the rather winding road
which curves about the base of the
range. Under the very shadow of Old
Badly the road turned once more, and
gradual upgrade began, not to end until
We crossed the divide some time later.
The sun had kindly favored us most OF
the time and its position in the sky en-
phasized the suggestion of finding suit
able camping place. A halt was called
near a promising spot and the scouting
party returned with a favorable report.
We drove into a pasture and along the
little mountain stream to find an Ideal
camping place awaiting us with plenty
of wood and water handy. The Nimrods
of the party we're soon off in search OF
sport, while the self-appointed cook and
cookee prepared the repast, with Billie's
help as wood gatherer. The coffee was
soon under way, the bacon done to turn
and the potatoes fried. The stable"
was set with little ceremony, and our
sportsmen returned empty-handed to en-
Joy the meal, Of which cold roast prairie
chicken-fruit of a previous and more
successful hunting trip-was the "piece
de resistance" After leaving our camp
ing spot the ascent was quite sharp, and
in places the wooded hillsides recalled
New England. A pleasant incident was
the finding, almost at the top OF the
divide, two spring fowers-a species OF
wild tulip locally called wind flower
hat had evidently been cheated into
blooming ahead of time by our delight
full Indian summer, which had also en-
couraged spray of vivid blue harebells
to linger along.
Down the divide into Rocky Canyon is
ia beautiful drive-the rich agriculture
country sometimes looking bit forbid
ding and deceptive, but for the most part
promising and picturesque. Quantities
of stock-cattle, horses and hogs and
some sheep everywhere met the eye,
and the towering golden straw stacks
spell prosperity for the ranchers, this
eason at least. We crossed the N. P.
tracks near the tunnel entrance, and
! were soon in heCanyon proper. "Rocky'
is we'll named, for the wonderful canyon
walls, multi-colored in stratas of reds.
pinks and yellows in places, are every
where carved in grotesque forms -
needle-like fountains, caves and jutting
peaks, all the work of erosion. Clus-
tered, once lively mining town and now
practically deserted, is depressing
sight, and was interesting chiefly as we
passed the convict quarters. A number