Salmon River and Bitterroot Valley Scenic Byways
Challis, Idaho, to Missoula, Montana.
The morning in Challis was simply breathtaking. The rolling foothills of the Salmon River Mountains flowed like carpeted uncapped waves into the valley floor north of town. The sky was an indescribable blue, void of even the slightest hints of pollution. We had a lazy start. Today was a day that had very little in the itinerary—a languid run up the Salmon River Scenic Byway to Montana. From there, we will pick up the Bitterroot Scenic Byway to the infamous Lolo Pass just south of our stop for the night, Missoula.
Today was a selfish day for me. We will explore many historically significant places, as this is the land of Lewis and Clark’s most incredible hardships in their two-year Corps of Discovery—crossing the formidable Bitterroot Mountains in Northern Idaho and Western Montana wilds. A crossing so dangerous that they were almost lost on their crossing to the Pacific. And again upon returning to St. Louis. The closest the Corpse came to collapse and failure. Their voyage ultimately opened the West for rapid expansion. A nearly insurmountable Bitterroot Mountain Range squashed any notion of an easy overwater route west to the Pacific. I had come to cross the mighty Bitterroots as Lewis and Clark had done over 200 years ago. However, I would do so in comfort and with little hardship.
The drive up US-93 was a masterpiece of nature’s finest work, each turn a new brushstroke on an ever-changing canvas. We cruised through the meandering arteries of the earth beneath the shadow of cliffs that have stood as silent witnesses to the slow dance of the ages. The sagebrush sea conjures images of the Old West, pioneers and prospectors, fur trappers and soldiers, who once journeyed through these vast expanses with hopes as big as the fabled sky above.
Sunlight spilled across the folds of the hills, each beam playing its part in a magical symphony of nature. The road stretches on, a ribbon of possibility cutting through the heart of the landscape, calling us to follow wherever it may lead. With each mile, the history of the land unfolds, a silent narrative etched into the stone and scrub, while our own story, a fleeting but vibrant echo, intertwines with the timeless tales that this terrain has told. And onward forth, we march to breakfast.
It was after nine when we rolled into Salmon—a picturesque Western town on the edge of the Salmon-Challis National Forest. I found a spot to park, and we set out to explore the beautiful mountain town. We found Wally’s Cafe downtown and settled in for a classic American Diner-Style breakfast in the heart of the idyllic setting. I was looking forward to a meal I didn’t have to prepare, and a mom-and-pop country diner in the heart of some fantastic Idaho scenery sounded like the perfect opportunity.
I ordered a classic egg breakfast with hash browns, sausage, and biscuits. It was incredible. I’m not sure if it was the environment or the clean mountain air, but it was one of the most uncomplicated but most delicious breakfasts I’d ever had. The thing that stole the show was the biscuits. They were, in fact, the best biscuits I’ve ever had. They were light and fluffy, with crispy, buttery edges to die for. It was such an incredible biscuit that I had to tell the sweet older lady cooking in the kitchen how amazing it was. She was thrilled.
After breakfast, it was time to go souvenir shopping, which the girls were always eager to do. We explored a few antique stores, a hat store, and an all-around gift shop. It was so much fun just relaxing along the streets of Salmon, Idaho. We picked up a few things for a few special people back home. It was a wonderful break from our daily push to see everything possible. As morning casually flowed into the afternoon, it was time to say farewell to Salmon, but not before we visited one of the most remarkable women in the story of America.
From Downtown Salmon, we took Idaho-28 south for a slight detour from our route. This is part of the Sacajawea Historic Byway, which runs from Salmon to Terreton along the western edge of the Beaverhead Mountains in the Lemhi River valley. In the early afternoon light, the dense greenery of the Lemhi River valley was a breathtaking micro example of the open prairie crashing into the lofty mountains beyond. Just outside of Salmon, down the historic route, we came to the Sacajawea Interpretive, Cultural & Educational Center.
As we journeyed through the scenic Idaho landscape, I couldn’t help but recall the extraordinary life of Sacajawea, the Shoshone woman who emerged as a pivotal figure in one of America’s most significant exploratory ventures – the Lewis and Clark Expedition known as the Corpse of Discovery. About a year ago, I read Stephen Ambrose’s gripping account of the Corpse, “Undaunted Courage,” where I first discovered a deeper understanding of Sacajawea’s role in the Corpse’s success—also inspired much of our western route on this tour of America. Her story has stayed with me ever since.
Sacajawea was born around 1788 as a member of the Agaidika (Salmon Eater) tribe of the Lemhi Shoshone, near modern-day Salmon. Her life, as portrayed by Ambrose, was nothing short of a tumultuous odyssey marked by the ravages of intertribal warfare. At a young age, she was captured by Hidatsa raiders, torn away from her homeland, and sold into a life far from her roots. Fate, however, had a unique role for her, as she was soon to be an indispensable member of Meriwether Lewis and William Clark’s audacious expedition to the Pacific.
The Lewis and Clark Expedition, commissioned by President Thomas Jefferson in 1803, was a journey into the unknown. When Lewis and Clark arrived in the Hidatsa villages preparing for their journey, they met Toussaint Charbonneau, a French-Canadian fur trader who had taken Scajawea as one of his wives. Recognizing his knowledge of the terrain and tribal languages from years of living among the Hidatsa, Lewis and Clark hired Charbonneau as an interpreter.
Charbonneau had been living among local tribes for some time and had adopted some of their practices—particularly polygamy, as he had purchased Sacajawea and took her as his second wife. Charbonneau chose to take his then-pregnant young wife, Sacajawea, on this daunting and perilous endeavor for reasons not entirely known to history. In recent years, it has been thought that her condition might have been a negotiating point for Charbonneau. It is speculated that Lewis and Clark welcomed the soon-to-be mother. Some think they saw her value as a symbol of peace. After all, no war party traveled with a woman and a newborn child.
Whatever the reasons, she braved the rugged terrains, from the Missouri River to the Rocky Mountains, and the arduous journey to the Pacific Coast while nursing an infant. Her presence was not just practical but also diplomatic. Scajawea’s ability to communicate with various Native American tribes proved invaluable, helping the Corps of Discovery negotiate for supplies and safe passage.
A moment of emotional intensity came not far from here in August of 1805 with Scajawea’s reunion with the Shoshones. This pivotal encounter led to the acquisition of horses, critical for crossing the Rockies at the Bitterroots. Here, Scajawea met her brother, Cameahwait, now a chief, in a scene that must have been brimming with historical and personal gravity. This reunion, set against the backdrop of the breathtaking Bitterroot Mountains, was both a homecoming and a reminder of the hardship endured.
As the expedition concluded, Scajawea’s role didn’t fade into the obscurity of history. Her impact was lasting. Her contributions paved the way for the expedition’s success and challenged the contemporary views of Native Americans and women. Scajawea’s indomitable spirit, resilience, and intelligence made her a figure of immense historical significance.
Nestled amidst the serene landscapes of Idaho, the Sacajawea Center is a poignant homage to the enduring legacy of a remarkable woman. Here, visitors traverse the winding trails, enveloped in the whispers of history where the Lemhi River meanders nearby—a tranquil companion to those seeking solace in nature. The center’s events and educational offerings bloom each spring and summer, inviting scholars of all ages to immerse themselves in the rich narrative of the past woven seamlessly into the present.
Along the trail, we came to a statue of one of the unsung heroes of the Corpse, the famed companion of Captain Meriwether Lewis. Seaman, a steadfast companion on the Lewis and Clark Expedition, emerged as an emblem of resilience and loyalty during the arduous three-year journey from the Mississippi River to the Pacific coast and back. Purchased by Captain Meriwether Lewis in 1803, Seaman, a robust Newfoundland dog, embodied the expedition’s spirit. His docile nature and strength made him invaluable for traversing land and water. Whether retrieving game or standing guard against nocturnal intruders, Seaman endeared himself to the explorers, earning the affectionate title of “our dog.”
Seaman’s contributions were multifaceted throughout the expedition, from hunting squirrels for sustenance in lean times to alerting the camp to predators. Some Native Americans revered him for his wisdom and stature, as few natives had seen a canine so obedient and well-trained. Seaman became an integral part of the expedition’s narrative, providing solace and companionship amidst the challenges of the untamed wilderness. Despite enduring hardships, including a near-fatal encounter with a beaver and a brief abduction by indigenous peoples, Seaman remained a steadfast ally to the end, his final moments coming in mid-October 1809. Meriwether Lewis, struggling with an undiagnosed mental condition noted by Thomas Jefferson, shot himself at an Inn on October 11. Seaman refused to leave his side, and it is said that he refused to eat or drink until he ultimately died of starvation at the gravesite of Lewis several days later.
From the center, we drove up Idaho-28 to Salmon, where we picked up US-93 again and turned north towards the Bitterroots. The landscape was as gorgeous as before. As we journeyed through the Salmon-Challis National Forest, we were treated to an ever-changing tapestry of the bluest sky—ranging from the palest baby blues to the deepest indigos. The threatening dark horizons of yesterday had long retreated to fill the sky with clouds marching like stately ships, their fluffy white sails billowing in the vast ocean of the sky. These clouds, with edges tinged by the silver light of the sun, seemed to whisper stories of ancient times when the earth was young, and the sky was a playground for the myths and legends of old.
The cerulean expanse above the serene landscape was a painter’s study in contrast: at times, it was as if someone had spilled ink into a pool of water, with the shades of blue spreading outwards, dark in the center, and lightening at the edges. The clouds, those capricious nomads of the sky, ranged from brilliant, spotless white to a moody grey where they were thick with unshed rain. They created shapes that danced to a rhythm set by the winds, casting shadows that glided over the earth below, momentarily cooling the sun-warmed rocks and grass. Each cloud, a fleeting moment captured in the grandeur of the sky, all witnessed by a family bound by the love of discovery and the lure of the road less traveled.
From Salmon, we continued to climb into the Bitterroot mountains for some time. A mountain range I was eager to cross. We passed a historical marker sign about an hour out of Salmon and pulled over for a closer look. It marked a place in August 1805 where William Clark of the famed expedition explored the first few miles of the Canyon, looking for a more straightforward route over the Bitterroots. The plaque stated the following:
“His small advance party camped near here with poor but friendly Indians. Clark reported that the Salmon “is almost one continued rapid,” and that passage “with canoes is entirely impossible.” So the expedition had to purchase packhorses and go 110 miles north to an Indian Trail across the mountains.”
-Excerpt from the original journals of Lewis and Clark.
Next to the marker, the Salmon River churned away on its dynamic journey toward the Snake River. We had followed the river for some time, but here at the marker just outside North Fork, the river turns west and heads towards the impassible Salmon River Canyon spoken about in the excerpt. Diem and I explored the river bank and the entrance to the canyon briefly before continuing our push into the Bitterroots. Further along the highway, we came to another marker at a rather sharp switchback. Which stated the following:
“LEWIS AND CLARK
ON THEIR WAY NORTH SEARCHING FOR A ROUTE OVER IDAHO’S MOUNTAIN BARRIER, LEWIS AND CLARK LEFT THIS CANYON AND ASCENDED A HIGH RIDGE TO REACH BITTERROOT VALLEY. SEPTEMBER 3-4, 1805.
No Indian trail came this way, but Tobe, their experienced Shoshone guide, got them past here anyway. They had to follow a difficult ridgetop divide over peaks more than 1000 feet higher than this highway. They met some Flathead Indians who surprised them by speaking a language stranger than anything they had ever heard.”
-Idaho Historical Marker #269
From the marker, we did much the same. Only we had the advantage of a well-maintained national highway. But the difficulty was apparent even from our vehicle. The road snakes through tight switchbacks with sweeping views to the peak at Lost Trail Pass before descending rapidly to the Bitterroot Valley floor. In the early afternoon, we reached the apex at the Lost Trail pass between the Salmon River Valley and the Bitterroot River Valley at another crossing of the Continental Divide. This pass was also the state line between Idaho and Montana on US-93. At the pass, the Salmon-Challis National Forest seamlessly transitions into the Bitterroot National Forest as Idaho melts into Montana. I snapped a collection of signs at the pass, and we pushed on.
The road continued similarly from the pass, with sweeping views and tight switchbacks, as it slowly dropped into the Bitterroot Valley. The Bitterroot Valley Scenic Byway was one of the reasons we had come this way—part of a larger scenic route that we had run from Challis. Our journey on this route would terminate in Missoula later today. But before it does, we would run the length of the valley north, with the mighty Bitterroots our constant left shoulder companion.
The valley is mainly known for a series of small, idyllic towns along the route, the first of which we came to shortly after entering the valley. Founded in 1889, the city is named after the man who signed the post office application, establishing a local township. His name was James W. Darby. Having a population of 783 as of the 2020 census, it’s a tiny town with big ambitions. It is the home of Yellowstone, with the Dutton family home being filmed at Cheif Joseph Ranch in Darby. It is also a popular stop for countless tourists who come to explore the beautiful western towns of the Bitterroots every year.
We stopped for some snacks and a stretch and topped off the van. The weather was perfect, and the warm, sun-drenched valley was magnificent. A western-style architecture gave the town a warm and inviting feel. We continued on through the valley as the small towns rolled by one by one—Hamilton, Victor, Florence, and finally, Lolo. At Lolo, we took a turn West on US-12, also known as the Lolo trail. It was here in 1805 that Lewis and Clark took their shot at crossing the Bitterroots.
When Meriwether Lewis encountered the Continental Divide south of the Bitterroot Valley at Lost Trail Pass on August 12, 1805, he anticipated a vast plain gradually sloping out of sight towards the Pacific Ocean. However, his expectations were shattered when vanishing out of sight were actually “immense ranges of high mountains still to the West of us.” The Shoshone subsequently informed them that no navigable river route existed to reach the sea. As discussed earlier, Clark ventured down the Salmon to verify this information and found the Salmon River impassable. Consequently, the captains sought the guidance of a Shoshone named Old Toby, who revealed an Indian trail through the mountains. Despite Old Toby’s warning about the ruggedness of the path and its scarcity of game, they resolved to proceed.
Under Old Toby’s guidance, the Corps of Discovery pushed north on horseback through the Bitterroot Valley, bound for Lolo Creek and the challenging trail across the Bitterroot Mountains. As they traveled, they undoubtedly cast their eyes upon the towering peaks to their west, as did we as we made our own run up the valley today. With the planned arrival at the Pacific overdue, the sight of snow-covered mountains likely instilled a sense of urgency in the Corpse. The expedition was on the verge of confronting its most demanding trial before reaching the ocean.
Setting up camp on the southern side of Lolo Creek near present-day Lolo, where we were now, Lewis named the site Travelers’ Rest. There, they tended to tasks like crafting moccasins, repairing clothing, and resting their horses in preparation for the next leg of their journey. During their stay, three members of the Nez Perce tribe arrived from the west, informing them that crossing the mountains would take “five sleeps.” However, the journey that took the Nez Perce five days became an exhausting eleven-day, almost fatal ordeal for the expedition.
Departing Travelers’ Rest on September 11, 1805, they followed a trail known as the K’useyneisskt, or the “Buffalo Trail,” by the Nez Perce, now recognized as the Lolo Trail. We, too, turned west at Travelers Rest. However, our journey was on a blacktop paved road. The explorers were stuck traversing mainly along ridges above the thick undergrowth of Lolo Creek, where they encountered challenging terrain described by Clark as “very bad,” with steep hills and deep hollows. The expedition passed by Lolo Hot Springs, where Clark noted the scalding temperature of the water. With no time to rest at the springs and hindered by the deteriorating trail, they were compelled to slaughter a colt for sustenance before pushing on.
Over subsequent days, the conditions worsened, with horses slipping on steep terrain, snow obscuring the trail, and adverse weather taking its toll on the expedition members. Deciding again to slaughter a colt for sustenance, the band of now weary adventurers teetered on absolute collapse. However, despite the relentless weather and cold, on September 22, 1805, they emerged from the mountains into what Lewis described as “a level and fertile country,” the domain of the Nez Perce, who graciously aided their westward journey.
We, too, pushed into the mountains on the Lolo Trail. Though today we have the luxury of a maintained road, it’s easy to see the task’s difficulty. The old country road slithers in and out of steep ridged hills, densely packed with vegetation. The fur, cedar, and pines are towering at the roadside. Sometimes sweeping out into wide meadows along the roadside. Before quickly retreating again to dense walls of vegetation and rock. Without the road and a guide, crossing these mountains in deep snow would have been insurmountable. It must have been a tumultuous scene. We, too, found the hot springs halfway up the pass, only we could stop at the modern facilities to enjoy the multitude of services.
We pulled into the parking lot at the hot springs, which had now become a small micro settlement complete with a restaurant, cabins, a hotel, and the springs themselves. Walking to the door, I saw the massive concrete pool built around the spring. I discovered what was available, paid for the crew, and escorted the family inside. A large concrete bath house was attached to the entrance and split between males and females. Changing stalls were just inside, with showers lining the far wall to rinse off before entering the pools. The space was utilitarian and worn. But it served its purpose, and we all emerged into the cool, sunfield mountain air and entered the pool.
The water was warm, but the outside air temperature was cool as the mountain breeze cut across the pool’s surface, draining its warmth and making it cold when wet and out of the pool. Maggie had gone off to check the hothouse and reported that it was indoor, the water was spa-hot, and it was currently vacant. So we collected our things and headed to the hothouse. The structure was made of cedar, with a transparent roof, allowing the sun’s warm rays to cast down on the steamy water. It was an incredible relief for the weary muscles from two weeks on the road. We spent much of the afternoon soaking in the hot and healing waters of Lolo Hot Springs, much like Lewis and Clark did on their return to St. Louis on June 29, 1806.
Following their winter encampment near the Oregon coast at Fort Clatsop, the expedition initiated their journey back eastward. Spending most of May on the western slopes of the Bitterroot Mountains, they awaited the gradual melting of the snow. Eager to commence their return to St. Louis, they endeavored to traverse the mountains in mid-June. However, they were thwarted by towering snowbanks, reaching twelve feet in depth, and biting cold temperatures.
On June 24, 1806, guided by Nez Perce scouts, they embarked again across the formidable mountains, encountering stretches of snow towering six to eight feet high. Upon crossing the Bitterroots and descending along Lolo Creek, they indulged in a rejuvenating soak at Lolo Hot Springs, eventually reaching Travelers’ Rest on June 30, 1806. Their arrival at this pivotal juncture marked a triumph over one of the most daunting obstacles to transcontinental travel they had confronted. They celebrated their passage, with Clark reflecting, “leaving these tremendous mountains behind us, in the passing of which we have experienced cold and hunger of which I shall ever remember.”
From the springs, we continued up the Lolo trail to the Lolo Pass to see the historical markers built by the National Trail Systems. The sight marked the apex of Lewis and Clark’s journey across the Bitterroots in 1805 and 1806. However, the facilities built to commemorate the pass did not mention the Corpse of Discovery. Instead, the Pass is now used to remember a series of battles in the region during the Western Expansion. A trail flowed from the visitor’s center to a beautiful and well-maintained seating area that overlooked the entrance to an interpretive trail that disappeared into the tree line of the Pass. Three iron sculptures of Nez Perce on horseback commemorating the event stood in the seating area. A striking sight against the backdrop of majestic furs climbing into the deep blue sky beyond. A plaque at the site stated the following:
The Nez Perce (Nee-Me-Poo)
In May 1877, Nez Perce leaders met General Oliver Otis Howard and Indian agent John B. Monteith at Fort Lapwai, Idaho. Gen. Howard and Monteith demanded the Nez Perce move to a vastly reduced Idaho reservation – if necessary, by force. Their homelands had become valuable to settlers and gold seekers.
On July 23, 1877, more than 750 members of the Nez Perce Nation (Nimiipuu) men, women and children, and 2,000 horses crossed Lolo Pass to elude the pursuing U.S. Army to avoid being forced onto a reservation. Leaving their homeland behind they followed this trail across the Bitterroot Mountains in an attempt to find peace by joining traditional allies to the East. For several months into October, they were pursued relentlessly by the U.S. Army across much of the Pacific Northwest and part of the Great Plains, through Oregon, Idaho, Montana and Wyoming.
When the non-treaty Nez Perce bands gathered at Tolo Lake, Idaho, on their traumatic journey to a new reservation, three young Nez Perce attacked settlers on the Salmon River. Some settlers were known to have murdered and mistreated Nez Perce people. Military reprisal sealed the fate of the Nez Perce who began a heroic yet futile flight seeking freedom and peace.
Their 1,170-mile journey through the long summer was punctuated by clashes at White Bird Canyon, Clearwater, Weippe, Big Hole, Camas Meadows, Canyon Creek, and Cow Island. Amid snowfall, the flight ended October 5, 1877, at Montana’s Bear Paw Mountains. More than 200 Nez Perce men, women and children managed to escape the Bear Paw battle and make their way to Canada.
In the aftermath of their journey, the captured Nez Perce were taken to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, then Tonkawa, Oklahoma. Eight years later, in 1885, the exiled Nez Perce were finally allowed to return to the Pacific Northwest but not to their former homelands. Today many descendants live on the Nez Perce, Colville, and Umatilla Reservations.
The Nez Perce (Nee-Me-Poo) National Historic Trail commemorates a collision of cultures and reminds us of the resilience of a people. Today, sites associated with the 1877 conflict honor the lives and fortitude of the Nez Perce. These sites are a source of inspiration for all Americans.
Please respect and preserve this special place, that others may also experience it.
-Excerpt from plaques produced by the National Historic Trail System at Lolo Pass.
From here, we pushed back down the Bitterroots to Traverler’s rest, where we turned North to our stop for the night, Missoula, Montana. We rolled into Missoula around five to find rush hour traffic filling the streets of a rather large, bustling city in the middle of an otherwise lonely expanse. We cruised across town to the KOA, where we had booked a cabin for the night. Tucked in the center of Missoula, the KOA offered some great amenities and lots of green space in the heart of the second-largest city in Montana.
I visited the office to check-in, and we were pointed to our dry cabin (no water or bathroom) and parked in front. The cabin was charming, with a log-style construction. The porch had a lovely log swing and a set of cabin-style bunk beds in the main room. As we were unloading a few things, I noticed several rabbits were just in the periphery of our cabin, lurking in the shadows. I shook the notion of anything notorious, like a rough, tangled band of outlaw rabbits terrorizing unsuspecting tourists. They be foul creatures. And instead, took Diem and the girls out to do a little shopping, no rest for the weary.
Missoula sits on the northern edge of the Bitterroots Valley just north of Lolo. Founded in 1860 as a trading post, Missoula boasts a colorful past intertwined with tales of fur trappers, pioneers, and Native American tribes. The echoes of Lewis and Clark’s expedition seemed to linger in the air, reminding us of the city’s significance in shaping the American West. I dropped Lisa and Diem off at Ulta, and Maggie, Jennie, and I were tasked with finding dinner. As we drove through Missoula, the rolling hills outside the town were simply enchanting. It was a bucolic scene filled with pastoral rolling hills. It is as august and Arcadian of a scene as I have ever witnessed.
Missoula seemed to be surrounded by idyllic scenes in all directions. It was as if Montana’s second-largest city was constructed in the middle of the set of every British children’s television show. I knew that at any moment, a Teletubby or Thomas the train would bounce over a hill or roll into frame. I simply can’t express how captivating the backdrop of Missoula was on this late spring day. The words will always be lacking.
We found a regional taco chain called Taco John’s, and Maggie was keen to see what the local chain had to offer. We ordered every available taco and settled in for a rare fast-food dinner. Uninterested in tacos, Jennie sat in the warm afternoon sunlight that cast through the windows and played on her iPad. The tacos were above average for fast food but weren’t breaking any new ground. Back in modern civilization, I found a Vietnamese restaurant where I could purchase some restaurant-quality food for the rest of the crew.
From Taco John’s, we swung in to pick up Vietnamese before picking up Diem and Lisa. We returned to the cabin with much daylight left in the western Montana sky, but everyone was bushed. It was a common theme every night; coaxing the children to sleep took little effort. Diem and I sat in the swing and enjoyed a beer while she ate. It had been another incredible day crossing America. We concluded the evening laughing and sharing our favorite moments from the previous days. The retrospective nature of the adventure had become a powerful part of the journey. And here, in the wilds of Montana, we have found ourselves truly living beneath an endless sky.
To explore some of the Parks and Monuments we’ve explored and more, click here for the National Park Services.
