It’s a curious thing, the river. The surrounding area is always a riparian ecosystem, and beyond that the land can vary from deserts to mountains all the way to forest and plains. Here in Montana, we find examples of them all. In the whitewater world, there is a great range in choice of paddling and the different levels of intensity required to navigate downstream. For the brave and adventurous, a multi-day trip can lead to more time directly experiencing the river.
On Montana Afoot and Afloat, the second of four sections is a 10-day canoe paddle down the Missouri River. We began our journey at Coal Banks Landing, aptly named for the bands of lignite coal one sees intruding through the white cliffs of limestone near the boat ramp and surrounding BLM campground. Our end point: James Kipp Recreation Area, an astonishing 109-mile journey down one of Montana’s three biggest rivers.
I have been a water man all my life – born and raised on the Colorado creeks and streams. At the age of 23, I have been around the world, immersing myself in the premier whitewater from all over the states and three different countries. I thought I had seen and learned enough to guess at what this river would hold. How wrong I was.
As we drove away from the Rocky Mountains, it became clear that the countryside has little to boast these days. Before settlement, the only thing one would have seen was the prairie, free and untouched by the land management practices in today’s economic world – except for our experience on the American Prairie Reserve.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. After a long drive, we traversed down a coulee and found magnificent rock formations with skinny pillars (Virgelle sandstone) shooting up into flat plate-looking eagle sandstone. These were common in our first few days on the river, as were the white limestone cliffs.
I am amazed by the geology we found during the trip – on day two in particular. We adventured into a slot canyon not far from where we made camp. Its intimate maze and curves led us to a point where we were no longer able to pass safely through. The formation here astonished me. I wonder what perception and knowledge exists about the Missouri River and north central Montana?
Paddling down the Missouri River gives one a unique view of what was once here and what now remains. Before settlers occupied this land, it must have been wondrous to exist in the floodplain still full of strength and power, its key role in the ecosystem moving sediment, creating habitat, and shaping the valley and its inhabitants’ lives. The sediment, crucial for riverbed heath and habitat trapped, is behind dams, while the dry hills filled with cattle are polluting and destroying riverbanks and water quality. The remains of failed ranches sit abandoned, left to rust, a marker for just how this land has changed and been changed by the Euro-American view of land management.
It is all too often that the people who use these spaces seek joy over understanding. Our fellow water people who passed us spoke to a tone of what a gift it is to be here. I could not help but feel pulled in two directions, forever grateful for the opportunity to experience such a unique and magical river, and full of sadness for knowing what used to occur on these mighty banks not 200 years ago.
After 10 days, we left this fragmented river behind, looking to move our thinking away from a riparian lens to a more expansive restoration project, the American Prairie Reserve. We had been reading and hearing references to this famous place but had yet to fully understand just what is taking place on this battleground of ranchers and preservationists. Though to call it preservation seems a bit far-fetched – to preserve something, it still needs to exist, doesn’t it?
If you don’t know, it may alarm you to learn that only 1% of the world’s prairie remains in today’s shifting world. It doesn’t get any better in North America: only 2% remains of what was here 140 years ago. There is, however, a glimmer of hope. The American Prairie Reserve currently inhabits 140,552 acres of deeded land and 386,516 of leased public land. Their goal is to create one of the largest nature reserves in the United States, no simple task. Their final vision is one million acres of untended connected habitat dedicated to maintaining a natural prairie ecosystem.
It is hard going though, faced with public scrutiny and the adverse problems known to many nonprofit foundations; the work is slow going. There is, however, another problem that interconnects both the Missouri River breaks and the APR, that is that they are overlooked for grander and more spectacular areas. Lacking the designation of a national park and only permitting 300 bison hunting tags a year in the case of wild bison game, the APR and Missouri River fail to capitalize on the spectacles and educational opportunities that exist. Combine this with the problematic ranching community’s overgrazing, and people pass up these marvels to spend their time elsewhere.
As a person enthralled with whitewater and a misunderstanding of just how breathtaking the ecological wonders that persist in these rough terrains, it makes me sad to think most people will never even give the Missouri or APR a chance and will not experience the wonders they have to offer. This is all too common. Human perception overlooks places that don’t boast wonders or other such ideals that inspire and take our breaths away. What will it take to shift a perspective from extremes to unknowns, Instagram-worthy to simple joy and satisfaction? If the APR did in fact hold a national park title, would things be different or would it still fall by the wayside. If it weren’t for the dams blocking the natural flow and rhythms a river holds, would these places be known to the many instead of the few?
