Reflections on Three Forks

It's a convenient place to stop for overnight camping, close to the Interstate, but not too close, primitive enough so it's not likely to be full.  If I had lived in Colorado longer, it would have been part of my regular route from there to Northwestern Montana.  But this time I was moving to Northwestern Montana, so it was a time for deeper reflection, knowing I might not be coming this way again.

This is the place where the Madison, Gallatin, and Jefferson rivers come together to form the Missouri.  The joined rivers then flow northward before turning south and east to cross the plains.  These rivers have their names because it was the end of following the river westward for the Corps of Discovery,  the Lewis and Clark expedition.  The three leaders after whom the rivers are named had made the expedition possible.  Still, coming to his place brought the beginning of the realization that the mountains would have to be crossed on foot or horseback, and how could they get horses?

Sacajawea, the young Indian woman who was with the Corps, was thrilled to arrive at the place where the Missouri is formed.  She recognized it as the land of her people, from whom she had been stolen and sold into slavery,  eventually ending up with the French guide who accompanied the Corps.  And indeed, her people and the horses were eventually found.  The mountains were eventually crossed, and the Clark Fork, which flows to the west, became their guiding stream.

This place where I was camped marked a spot where preconceived ideas were released -- the idea of a river connecting the two oceans had to be discarded for good.  (Had they really believed that? ).  It was a place where they might have decided to turn around and go home.  But they found a way to move forward, driven by a desire not to spend the winter in the surrounding mountains or back out on the prairie, as well as a determination to complete their mission.  It must have been hard to figure out which way "forward" was -- as the rivers grow smaller, following upstream becomes an uncertain business -- for sure each one rises in the mountains, with an unknown wilderness of mountain pass beyond, and an unknown beginning of a new stream to follow on the other side.  Would they find their way west beyond the mountains?  Could they find a guide who actually knew the ways of this craggy wilderness?

These days, I'm thinking we are at the three forks on a larger scale.  The way of extracting things from the earth and using them up, that seems to be like the mighty Missouri, growing smaller and smaller as we go upstream with it.  Now we come to a place where it is clear that there is no easy way through.  We have to find horses and a guide, and use our wits to find the way forward.  Which of these smaller streams, if any, should we follow?  Once we cross the mountains, it will presumably be a downhill road, though more challenges are to come, for sure.  Meanwhile, we camp, arguing, trying to find new information, trying to locate a different mode of travel and someone to help us find the way.

Fear of what will happen if we stay here should be driving us forward.  Determination to build a better life for everyone should be, too.  Can we take hope from the example of Lewis and Clark?  Maybe.

I pack up my tent, still wet with morning dew, and head for the pass.