A River Runs Through It

A few weeks ago I had the distinct pleasure of spending five days floating about sixty miles on central Montana’s Smith River. The Smith is a tributary of the Missouri River, and runs through the appropriately named Castle Mountains, carving through miles of steep limestone cliffs which cast shadows like stone walls.

Like any respectable river trip the journey involved constant fishing, campfires every night, the consumption of untold quantities of cheap beer (sometimes for breakfast), water, water everywhere, night bacon, eagles, flocks of cliff swallows, epic squatters, rattlesnake paranoia, the loss of a wedding ring, the finding of a wedding ring, frisbee dives, cliff jumps, swimming, sunburns, sore arms, and a lot of burritos.

My sweet ride



Unfortunately the bidet was not working

Apparently they let Canadians on the river, too



Cliffs of insanity

Beautiful, glorious, blah blah blah

Old friend


They do things a little differently down here

Swallow condominiums

Cave break

View from petroglyphs

Say wha?!

Yes, that is fire roasted night bacon



Water beefalo


Blinded by the light

Hoss is so free right now

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