Forest Ranger 1907 on the Rocky Mountain Front
Editors note: The Southwest Montana visitors region includes all of Lewis and Clark County. And as such extends well north into the Bob Marshall Wilderness complex and includes the southern segment of the Rocky Mountain Front, including Sun River Canyon and the ranching community of Augusta. As a USFS Forest Ranger Mr. Fickes, as he began his career, spent considerable time in this landscape. He became one of the first rangers under President Theodore Roosevelt’s adminuistration.
This essay is excerpted from a report Clyde Fickes wrote in May 1944. It appeared in Volume 1- Early Days In The Forest Service. His words are unedited and appear as he penned them. Fickes retired from the Forest Service in 1947. He died on Dec. 29, 1987, at age 103, from an accident on the dance floor.
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I applied for work on the old Lewis & Clark National Forest in the spring of 1907. Appointed a Forest Guard on July 1st at $60 per month and supplying two horses, and myself I was assigned to a survey party on the Swan River. On July 23rd and 24th I took the Forest Ranger examination at Kalispell and was directed to go to the Hannan Gulch Ranger Station on the North Fork of the Sun River. It has always been my impression that I was not considered a very promising candidate for ranger by Acting Supervisor A.C. McCain, so he figured, “I’ll give this kid an assignment that he won’t want to accept, or else he will never get to Sun River and we will be well rid of him.”
They gave me a badge, a USE BOOK, and a GREEN BOOK and told me “When you get to Hannan, you can take charge of the Sun River District.” That’s how I became a forest ranger in 1907.
Well, I fooled McCain. I had discussed with Ranger Jack Clack the possible routes to follow. He had suggested the best route for that time of year was to go up “Big River”, the Middle Fork of the Flathead, follow the railroad until I reached the east side, and then south across country, until I reached Sun River.
Leaving Kalispell on July 26th, with saddle and packhorses, I swam the South Fork (of the Flathead), which was high, and camped the first night at the old Fitzpatrick homestead about where the present highway bridge is located.
Most of the trail followed the tote road used in building the railroad back in the ’90s, and there were places where the trail lay between the iron rails, which made travel by horse a little hazardous at times, as one never knew when a train would want to use the tracks. That second night on the trail, I camped about 3 or 4 miles east of Belton (West Glacier) on the old tote road grade near some cabins where there was good grass for the horses. The next day, I made it to Essex and camped for the night with Ranger Dick Bradley and his family.
In the morning the horses and I forded the “Big River” and even though the current was rather fast, we made it to the other side all right without much difficulty and proceeded up Bear Creek. Camped at the Phil Gypher place at his invitation, as there was good horse feed, and we were tired.
From Bear Creek we rode to the Lubec Ranger Station. Flies were real bad, giving the horses no rest, and I stayed over the next day to catch our breath. This was July 31, 1907. The problem now was to get across the Blackfeet Indian Reservation without having to go to Browning for a pass, therefore saving myself 2 days time. I camped at Wolf Plume’s place on the Little Badger that night. I had worked on the cow roundup on the Reservation the year before and knew these Indians. They were camped on Wolf Plume’s personal allotment putting up the hay. There were 5 or 6 tepees of them.
A couple of years before that, the Government had built for Chief Wolf Plume a two-room log cabin and partially furnished it, and it had never been used-even one night. The old man took me over and showed me the cabin and told me to camp in it for the night. I thanked the Chief and he said to me “You got pass?” I shook my head. He grinned, shook his head, and left me to make camp. There was a new six-hole Majestic stove in the cabin, and it had never had a fire in it. I didn’t disturb its virginity!
I finally pulled into the little town of Dupuyer late that next night. We were tired; it had been a long, hot day. A manger full of hay looked good to my horses. I went looking for a steak for myself.
Late the next afternoon we arrived at Ranger Linc Hoy’s ranch on Blackleaf Creek, spent the night and in the morning headed to the Godwin Ranch at the forks of Deep Creek. The horses had a good roll and spent the night in knee-deep grass.
Left Godwin Ranch about 9:30 A.M. and arrived at last at the Hannan Gulch Ranger Station at about 2:30 P.M. It was quite a climb down into the Sun River Canyon on a narrow winding trail, across bare slide areas made by deer and elk on slopes as steep as 60 degrees and more.
According to my diary, I had traveled some 190 miles in 10 days to reach my post of duty.
At Hannan, I found Assistant Ranger Henry Waldref in charge. He was an old-timer who had been appointed to patrol the forests and watch for forest fires for 6 months each year. He had a mining claim near Lincoln, and his 6 months’ wages from the Forest Service were his winter’s grubstake. Henry was camped in a tent along the creek, and I joined him there. To him the job was just a summer’s outing. He had been in the hills for years; and I sure picked up a lot of handy ideas from him about life in the mountains and living off the back of a packhorse that have been useful to me all my life.
At that time, the Sun River Ranger District, with headquarters at the Hannan Gulch Ranger Station, included all of what is now called the Sun River drainage, (then called the North Fork), the Deep Creek drainage to the north and the Willow and Ford Creek drainages to the south. At that time, the stream running through the town of Augusta was known as the South Fork of the Sun River. What is now known as the South Fork of the Sun River was then known as the South Fork of the North Fork, and we also had the West Fork of the South Fork of the North Fork of the Sun River.
The Sun River country comprises some very interesting, not to say spectacular, topography. The river comes out of the mountains in a due east and west course some 8 or 9 miles and breaks through a series of five sawtooth-like reefs, ranging in elevation from 6,000 to 8,000 feet, with the river at 4,500 feet. The reefs are perpendicular on the east face and at a 45 to 60 degree angle on the west. Looks just like a row of sawteeth. At the junction of the North and South Forks, the river runs due north and south for some 45 to 50 miles and forms a beautiful valley with many open parks and side streams which head up against the Continental Divide on the west, part of which is known as the Chinese Wall, as spectacular a piece of country as you will see anywhere.
Natives of the area are brown, black and grizzly bear; blacktailed deer; elk; moose; mountain sheep and goat; and the usual run of mountain small fry. Cattle grazing was permitted on all the Sun River Ranger District except the West Fork of the South Fork and Pretty Prairie, which was reserved for winter elk feed. In May 1908, I counted and estimated that 500 to 600 elk wintered on the West Fork licks and vicinity. That was about all the elk in that area at that time.
The business of the district, which included all the forest from Deep Creek on the north to Ford Creek on the south, included 10 or 12 grazing permits for cattle on the upper North Fork, Beaver Creek, Woods Creek, Ford and Willow Creeks and along the boundary south of the North Fork. Also there were a few free use permits for wood on Willow Creek. A typical entry in my diary for August 13th reads: “Rode up Beaver Creek road to Willow Creek, crossed over to Ford Creek and then rode NE to Witmer’s ranch. Range along Beaver Creek getting short. Posted 4 fire warnings on Beaver Creek. No fires. 8 to 5.”
On September 30th, notice was received from Supervisor Page S. Bunker of Kalispell that a ranger meeting would be held at the mouth of White River on the South Fork of the Flathead River from October 14th to 18th inclusive. The supervisor had just returned from a six months detail to the Washington office and I guess he wanted to find out if his rangers could get around in the mountains satisfactorily. Eustace A. Woods, who was the ranger on the old Dearborn District and on occasion known as “Useless” to his close friends, was in town the same time I was and we agreed that, in company with four others, we would assemble at the mouth of the West Fork of the South Fork on the North Fork of the Sun River and trail over the Continental Divide together. Only one of the group had been over the route with a hunting party and was to be the guide. I call it a “route” advisedly, because there was no such thing as a located trail except along the main river. The appointed day of our meeting for departure was October 8th, but due to circumstances I could not get there.
On the morning of October 9th, Linc Hay, the ranger from Teton District and I left Hannan and camped at the beaver dams on the West Fork. The others had not waited for us so it was a case of finding our own trail over the divide. My diary for October 10th reads, “moved up West Fork Trail, camped on top of the divide under the cliffs. Jumped about five miles of logs. Bum trail. ” The next day we pulled down to the mouth of White River to be the first arrivals at the meeting site. Woods and the others had stopped to try to get some elk meat, but failed to do so.
All in all, nearly 20 rangers and guides gathered here to meet with Supervisor Bunker and Inspector D.C. Harrison from Washington D.C. Like all its successors, the ranger meeting on White River was mostly talk. We also did a Ranger Station survey under the direction of Inspector Harrison and on the third day, all moved down the river to Black Bear where a new cabin was being built for the ranger headquarters.
Snow was beginning to cover the high country so those from the east side – some nine of us – pulled out for home. No one wanted to buck the logs on the West Fork, so we went up to the Danaher Ranch and crossed through Scapegoat Pass and some 16 or 18 inches of snow.
On November 6th I received a notice from the Civil Service Commission that I had passed the ranger examination and was eligible for appointment. On July 1, I had been appointed a forest guard at $720 per annum, promoted to $900 on August 1, appointed an assistant forest ranger on November 11 at $900 and on January 1, 1908, promoted to deputy forest ranger at $1,000.
The Hannan Ranger Station consisted of an old log cabin, 16×20, and dirt roof, a 14×16 hewn-log cabin with box corners, a log barn, corral, hay meadow and pasture – all taken from a former homesteader or squatter named Jim Hannan, who allegedly operated a station on the old Oregon-Montana horse rustling trail. The story is that Jim also liked beef steaks and occasionally butchered a steer, regardless of whose brand it might bear. Seems like the neighboring ranchers, led by one of the largest cow owners in the Sun River country, surrounded Jim in his old cabin and convinced him with a few “Winchester salutes” that it would be advisable to do a Iittle dickering if he wanted to continue life’s journey. Bullet holes were still evident when I occupied the cabin. Old Jim agreed to leave the country and not come back. Shortly after that, maybe 2 or 3 years later, the Government pre- empted it for use of us Forest Rangers.
For a Ranger Station, no more isolated or lonesome spot could have been found. Visitors were practically unheard of for months at a time. The nearest neighbor was Johnny Mortimer who homesteaded in the gulch named for him. Johnny was a recluse and a bachelor. He never went to town. He had complete surveillance of all approaches. If he was not in the mood and a visitor approached, he would simply fade away into the rocky cliffs behind the cabin and would not come out until the visitor left. Whenever I was going to Augusta, I would let him know. He would give me a list of anything he needed, and I always picked up any mail for him. Several old-time friends paid him periodic visits. Sometimes one of them would stay all night at the cabin, but Johnny would not come in.
About the most convenient facility connected with the Sun River District was the built-in bathtub with hot and cold running medicated water. There was a warm, almost hot, mineral spring at the forks of the North and South Fork. Over the years users of the spring had dug out a sizable pool. There was a cave where the water came out. I took advantage of this convenience whenever possible. I was told by some of the old-timers that in the ’90s, in the late summer and early fall, a hundred or more folks from as far down as Great Falls would be camped at the springs. It was a beautiful spot until the Reclamation outfit ruined it with Gibson dam. In the fall of 1907 I helped build a beautiful two- room log cabin on the flat just below the spring. When Gibson Dam was built, the cabin was moved up to Arsenic Creek and burned in the 1919 fire. Incidentally, there was a double log cabin on Arsenic Creek known as the Choteau or Medicine Cabin, built by some Choteau men and used as a hunting camp in the fall. It was a convenient stopping place for all of us travelers.
What about the forest fires? Well, there just weren’t any. I do not recall that we had any lightning to speak of all that summer, and it was plenty hot at times. Also, there were not very many people roaming around in the hills.
When I left Kalispell, my equipment consisted of a regular stock saddle with a blanket and bridle and a sawbuck packsaddle with a blanket and saddle pad, a pair of canvas alforjas (pack bags), a halter, and a lead rope for the packhorse. Camp equipment, consisting of two long- handled fry pans, three tin plates, coffee pot, table knives, forks and spoons, a hunting knife in scabbard, a .32 Special 1894 Winchester rifle with leather scabbard, my camp bed, and extra clothes, a yellow Fish brand slicker (raincoat to you) and a canvas pack cover 7×7.
My food supply consisted of a slab of Winchester bacon, 10 pounds flour, can of baking powder, salt, sugar, canned tomatoes, corn, string beans and milk-three of each. This stuff made a packhorse’s load about 180 pounds. It was packed in the alforjas, which made two side packs for the packhorses, and the bed folded into a top pack with the canvas pack over it-rain and dust proof. Then I threw a diamond hitch (the one-man diamond which Jack Clack showed me) over the canvas cover, and we were ready to travel. The saddle horse carried the rifle in a leather scabbard, which hung from the saddle horn, my slicker, and me, which spent in travel with this kind of an outfit. Each individual used his own variation according to personal ideas and desires.
Cooking was done over an open fire, and you soon became accustomed to a regular routine of setting up camp. First, the horses were turned out to graze. Maybe you hobbled them or picketed one and turned the others loose to graze. Then you rustled some dry wood, selected a place downwind for your campfire, and got the fire started. Then you set up camp. Most of us carried a 7×9 tent with 18-inch sidewalls; this was pitched in a convenient dry place. The bedroll was spread over fir boughs, if you were inclined to luxury. By that time, the fire had burned down to a good bed of coals (only tenderfeet attempt to cook over a blazing fire). You ate, washed dishes, smoked a pipe or two or a cigarette, took a good look at the horses and probably, just before bedding down, decided for various reasons — poor feed, stormy weather prospects — to catch the horses and tie them up for the night. For various reasons, known only to a horse, they will take off during the night; and you have a long walk to find them. Sometimes you don’t find them for 3 or 4 days; that’s hard on the legs, not to mention your temper. In the morning you start a fire, check the horses, fix breakfast, pack up, bring in the horses, saddle up, and you are on your way.
In those early days you probably spent an hour or two cutting logs out of the trail or just clearing the way to get through to where you wanted to go. That was the way you lived in the field, as it is sometimes referred to. Old Henry Waldref had a homemade sheet iron folding stove that he packed with him. On a cold wet night, it would make a 7×9 tent almost luxurious living. Oh yes, most of us packed a sourdough can with us at all times. Couldn’t live without it!
So went the life of a forest ranger in 1907-08.
