Like horses heading to the barn . . .

Gorgeous last morning on the Missouri River . . . my hip feels much better for having slept on the ground with a thick mattress pad. While breaking up camp is sad as it is the "last time," I am eager to be on the river for some quiet reflection before this trip ends. 
   

But, in the meantime, just downstream from our campsite Arrow Creek enters the river from the south. Originally named Slaughter Creek, by the Lewis & Clark expedition, because when they passed by there was a pile of buffalo carcasses. Thankfully, there are no dead animals lying around as we paddle past. Almost thirty years later it was the site of an almost accidental sinking of a keelboat when too many Indians tried to board while artist Karl Bodmer was ashore sketching for his painting, "Camp of Gros Ventres of the Prairies."
     About 4 miles down river we briefly stop at The Wall Primitive Boat Camp to seek up on a prairie dog town a short walk beyond a mature stand of cottonwoods.

As the river landscape begins to change, I contemplate the journey this river takes — 2,500+ miles — from its start at Three Forks (Montana) where the Gallatin, Jefferson and Madison rivers converge to where it meets the Mississippi at St. Louis, Missouri. It is our country's longest river. The 47 miles we have covered has awed me with its dramatic White Cliffs, sandstone slot canyons, scores of twisting oxbows, and now rolling, broken hills that reveal the "Breaks" topography for which this region is named. 

My mind skips, too, over the journey of my own life with metaphorical equivalences — I, too, have been sculpted by the forces of nature since first coming to Montana in 1975.  Having fulfilled a long-held dream, my heart is full of gratitude to finally experience the magic and beauty of the Missouri River, and glimpse a bit of what Lewis and Clark saw more than 200 years ago. Though I didn't see the herds of buffalo, elk and antelope that Captain Lewis described, I did observe a few deer, rabbits, cattle and prairie dogs. Bald and Golden Eagles still fly overhead, as do hawks, geese, ducks and white pelicans. 
     After ten miles we reach the Judith River, which was named by Captain William Clark after his sweetheart. One mile further on the opposite (north) bank is Judith Landing — our take-out and lunch. I am ravenous!
    

After a group photo is taken, we shuttle back to Fort Benton by van, say our good-byes, and indulge in a thick Huckleberry milkshake. Nothing seems to have changed in Fort Benton — I even have the same room on the 3rd floor of the Union Hotel!
     Seated on the hotel's outdoor dining terrace, Birdie, Doc and I share recent best memories from our trip and savor our drinks and dinner — all agreeing that the amazing meals we had on our Upper Missouri River adventure was far superior. Cheers again to Ray, Abe, Caitlyn and crew!