Discovering the Flathead River

Discovering the Flathead River – travel story from Polly Kolstad

 

     Today, there are still discoveries to be made underscored by a theme.

     There we were, nineteen objective outlanders, prepared by historian Fred Laroque, for the footprint of the Flathead River, which previous to this day, was a flowing water way that simply emptied into Flathead Lake.

     Yet, as we launched the Labatt Blue Heron, a comfortable pontoon vessel, out of the Eagle Bend marina, we became Montana explorers on an expedition.

     Vangelis heralding music of 1492, the Conquest of Paradise, rose from our captain, Bob Livesay’s sound bites, as we began our twenty-five mile journey along the Flathead River.  A river that twists and turns like spun taffy looking for an anchor.

     Our first impression: we were floating along the pristine waters of a paradise lost, and found.

     When the histories of Montana were written, it was determined that a terminal glacier thousands of years ago dumped and carved out Flathead Lake.

     Much later, the Salish, Kootenai, and Pondera Indians lived and camped on the west shore of the lake and followed the resources that were available to them. Later, Jesuit fathers, and French Canadian fur trappers settled in the area.  White encampments followed having discovered this fertile valley. 

     The logging business ensued propelled by “really tough guys wearing hob nail boots,” according to Laroque. 

     They were also known as “river pigs” that maneuvered felled timbers across the lake.  Commerce began.  The early freight shipments were hauled by wagons and boats, the latter of which found their way up the Flathead River to settlements like Lees Landing (Holt) and Demersville (Foys Bend).

    Most of this cultural landscape has been lost, but we were out to find what still existed.

    A few miles up the river, in deep water (60 feet), we came upon the remnants of an old pier still nodding in the boat driven waves.  This was where the long ago ferry boat, Helena, docked, and a bridge beckoned travelers.  

Nearby, is an old building, what’s left of the general store at Holt.  Across the way, a decaying roof, still holds up parts of the dance hall, the remains of which are not far from Kehoe’s Agate Shop.  Kehoe’s, a family owned business, has kept tabs on the history of  the area.  If Leslie, a Kehoe descendent and historian, is not working in the shop, a sign on the door tells the fabled demise of the old town.

     Meandering along the calm emerald waters, Mother Nature interrupted our floating sanctuary.

     Just off to the left, blue heron nests loom high in lofty branches of river side trees.  The rookery boasts twelve nests with a few of the magnificent birds hovering restlessly. Our cameras capture nature’s wild beauty and then, we push on for more adventure.

     Casting concentrated looks up cat tailed sloughs and unknown streams, we spy flora and fauna that arouse biological and botanical queries.  Now and then, a quizzical doe and fawn appear in the fields.  We are a boatful of curious sailors on  a singular voyage.  Only an occasional canoeist paddles by.  Acres of shoreline give rise to agricultural fields, small farms, and lovely residences.

     We float along, sometimes in shallow waters, just three feet deep, yet navigating our way up the river for some twenty miles.

     Finally, projecting out from the muddy shore, we sight the spindly spires of a sunken dock, the remains of the boom and bust town of Demersville.

     The story goes that Jack Demers, a French businessman, established a trading post here in 1887 that became a flourishing port.  Demersville was the terminus of the freight boats on the Flathead River.  From this point on, boats could no longer forge up the river.

     From 1887 – 1891, the fledgling town grew anticipating the arrival of the railroad.  Downtown Demersville had the Cliff House Hotel, lake steamboats, a military post, Buffalo Soldiers, pioneers, and lots of people.  

      However, Charles E. Conrad, owner of the townsite of Kalispell, plotted a new community just three miles north of Demersville and in 1890, the railroad chose Kalispell.  Historians speculate that Conrad’s wealth and his political influence resulted in the railroad’s choice of Kalispell.  When this decision was made, the community of Demersville literally picked up the buildings and moved them to Kalispell, leaving only an old pier to signal a bygone era. 

     We disembarked and climbed the river bank to view the Demersville cemetery located along U.S. Highway 93 at Lower River Road.  Across the way, a lovely corn field and an old red barn silence the storied recollections of the railroad that never came to town.

     Turning around, we launched down river.

      Our historical focus turned to art as we detoured and cruised up Rose Creek to artist Nancy Dunlop Cawdrey’s home, studio, and gallery.  Nancy and husband, Steve, graciously waved us into their dock and warmly welcomed us.  Nancy led us to her upstairs studio, where she demonstrated her masterful process of painting on silk with dyes.  With her brilliant use of the brush, Nancy brought to her canvas horses, foxes, and flowers that dramatize her fine work.

     The vibrant hues of Cawdrey’s paintings notched yet another interesting turn along the ever colorful, and winding Flathead River.

      Hailing the discoveries of the day, and new found knowledge, we sailed back to the marina.

     Rivers give life and stories, and the Flathead evokes much more than just flowing into a giant lake.

 

Photo Op: I am emailing pictures.