Weekends on Snowy Ridge

My wife and I took a temporary job in Livingston, Montana back in 1953. It was temporary because I planned to return to Grand Coulee when the mill where I worked was ready to open up in the spring.

I graded lumber at the planing mill above the dam for a guy named Kirkpatrick. They closed down in late fall when they ran out of logs. I saw an ad in the Spokane paper that Downer Lumber Company in Livingston was looking for a lumber grader. I promptly answered it.

I got a quick response and we packed a few necessary items in our car and drove to Montana. They hired me on the spot, and I went to work the next day.

We toured the town, and I remember one of the first things that I saw was a guy who had a gun strapped to his waist. It was like entering the wild west days.

Downer Lumber Company was the usual mill but made unusual by the higher quality timber they processed. We rented an upstairs apartment in a house occupied by the owners.

We had packed a few plates and pans, and so we felt prepared for the three months we stayed there. I remember it was the first and only time that we had a gas-powered stove.

I met a young man, and we hit it off. His family had a hunting resort deep in the Rocky Mountains. Livingston was about 50 miles from the north entrance to Yellowstone National Park. The turnoff to Snowy Ridge, the name of their hunting resort, was about halfway to Yellowstone.

I’ve crossed the Rockies several times over the years, but I had never been in the Rockies, literally.

We drove deep in the heart of the wild Rockies on a road that became a trail.

The place had a large log lodge, with a number of individual log houses for the guests. We got one of these on several of the weekends that we were in Livingston. The family was very welcoming and, despite the rugged trip there on weekends, it seemed we were in western heaven.

Door handles were made from deer antlers and everything was made from scratch.

In addition to the lodge, the family owned a hunting location deeper in the mountains. We never got to it because it was a major hike to get there, the location was about 20 miles deeper in the mountains. I do remember our new friend telling me that his uncle once fell and broke his leg at the inner part of the hunting operation and lay there for some time before they sent a search party and found him.

Our visit and job at Livingston lasted three months, but we got to know some nice people and got to really know a part of the Rocky Mountains.

We returned to Grand Coulee when the planing mill was ready to go in the spring.