Bitterroot Mountains

The combination of smell, noise, and direct display makes it one of the stronger accounts from a uniformed ranger in daylight conditions.

In August 2019, a wildland fire crew working a hand line in the Bitterroot Mountains of western Montana reported an unusual sighting.

The team was composed of federal and state firefighters building a control line along a steep slope on the north flank of a lightning-caused fire.

The terrain consisted of heavy timber, mixed conifer, and patches of burned snags.

Descriptions from multiple crew members matched.

The incident was recorded as unusual wildlife observation with no further action taken.

The Bitterroot Mountains sighting remains one of the clearer on-duty observations of a Bigfoot by wildland firefighters.

It involved multiple trained witnesses in broad daylight with a clear line of sight.

This was because this party had been friendly to them, had given them presents, been kind to them, and had taken advantage of them in no way.

So also the Flathead Indians, who lived in the Flathead Valley and on the slopes of the Bitterroot Mountains and in the Bitterroot Valley, were friendly.

The Flatheads sold the Americans food, showed them the best trail over the Bitterroot Mountains, and were kind to them.

The Bitterroot Mountains were so called because of the bitter little root with pink flowers which grew all over those mountains.

The explorers called them Savage Mountains because they had such a fearful time crossing them on the trail or off it.

The mountainsides were very steep.

But there was no time for exploring the Oregon country or going up and down the coast, even on land.

It was a long homeward trail up the Columbia River in their canoes, back to the friendly chief who had taken good care of their horses, paying everywhere for fish and game and roots with their beads and paint and knives and ribbons and blankets, and here and there a scarlet laced coat.

This was because this party had been friendly to them, had given them presents, been kind to them, and had taken advantage of them in no way.

So also the Flathead Indians, who lived in the Flathead Valley and on the slopes of the Bitterroot Mountains and in the Bitterroot Valley, were friendly.

The Flatheads sold the Americans food, showed them the best trail over the Bitterroot Mountains, and were kind to them.

The Bitterroot Mountains were so called because of the bitter little root with pink flowers, which grew all over those mountains.

The explorers called them Savage Mountains because they had such a fearful time crossing them on the trail or off it.

The mountainsides were very steep.

But there was no time for exploring the Oregon country or going up and down the coast even on land.

It was a long homeward trail up the Columbia River in their canoes back to the friendly chief who had taken good care of their horses, paying everywhere for fish and game and roots with their beads and paint and knives and ribbons and blankets, and here and there a scarlet-laced coat.

No, she was standing maybe 30 feet from the person who'd hiked up that mountain with her in broad daylight on a trail she had hiked many times before.

Now Barbara was barely five feet tall, red-haired, and completely in love with the Bitterroot Mountains.

And she and her husband Carl had settled in Corvallis, Montana in 2001 after Carl spent 17 years at JPMorgan Chase running worldwide security for the bank.

A heart attack had ended his time on the hard trail, so Barbara did the climbing for both of them, and she knew that backcountry very well.

This was because this party had been friendly to them, had given them presents, been kind to them, and had taken advantage of them in no way.

So also the Flathead Indians, who lived in the Flathead Valley and on the slopes of the Bitterroot Mountains and in the Bitterroot Valley, were friendly.

The Flatheads sold the Americans food, showed them the best trail over the Bitterroot Mountains, and were kind to them.

The Bitterroot Mountains were so called because of the bitter little root with pink flowers which grew all over those mountains.

The explorers called them Savage Mountains because they had such a fearful time crossing them on the trail or off it.

The mountainsides were very steep, they were densely forested, and even the trail was constantly blocked by fallen trees lying one upon another.

But there was no time for exploring the Oregon country or going up and down the coast, even on land.

It was a long homeward trail up the Columbia River in their canoes, back to the friendly chief who had taken good care of their horses, paying everywhere for fish and game and roots with their beads and paint and knives and ribbons and blankets, and here and there a scarlet laced coat.

At first, the country was difficult, but manageable.

And then they reached the Bitterroot Mountains.

And this was where the expedition came closest to being defeated by the landscape.

Now, the name, the Bitterroots, tells you almost everything.

The Bitterroot Mountains are beautiful, but there is nothing gentle about crossing them with tired horses and a heavily loaded expedition.

The route climbed steep ridges, dropped into valleys and then climbed again.

Fallen trees blocked the trail, horses lost their footing on the slopes and loads repeatedly slipped from their backs.

Eventually, the Corps reached the Nazperke again.

This was because this party had been friendly to them, had given them presents, been kind to them, and had taken advantage of them in no way.

So also the Flathead Indians, who lived in the Flathead Valley and on the slopes of the Bitterroot Mountains and in the Bitterroot Valley, were friendly.

The Flatheads sold the Americans food, showed them the best trail over the Bitterroot Mountains, and were kind to them.

The Bitterroot Mountains were so called because of the bitter little root with pink flowers which grew all over those mountains.

The explorers called them Savage Mountains because they had such a fearful time crossing them on the trail or off it.

The mountainsides were very steep.

But there was no time for exploring the Oregon country or going up and down the coast, even on land.

It was a long homeward trail up the Columbia River in their canoes, back to the friendly chief who had taken good care of their horses, paying everywhere for fish and game and roots with their beads and paint and knives and ribbons and blankets, and here and there a scarlet laced coat.

I am a wildlife biologist, focused mostly on ungulates, bighorn sheep, elk, and mountain goats.

That fall I was on a two-week solo assignment in the Bitterroot Mountains, collecting data from trail cameras and logging movements along a known goat corridor.

I was alone up there, me, my gear, and miles of ridgeline scree slopes and pine-choked valleys where most people would not last a night.

I have worked in harsher terrain, Alaska during sleet season, Utah under summer heat.

How do you mean?

Well, if we recall that he died in the dead of winter, a medium zip-up jacket and windbreaker pants are categorically insufficient for survival in the Bitterroot Mountains.

Oh absolutely.

Those are light layers meant for like an autumn breeze.