In the town of Chinook, I learned about the Nez Purse Native Americans and their escape to Canada. From 1855 to 1877, they had their reservation shrink from seven million acres to less than seventy thousand. When one of the Native American's fathers was killed, one man killed several white settlers in a nearby village. The Army stepped in to quell the problem.
Chief Joseph and his brother led an escape of more than two thousand women and children over two thousand miles through the Rockies, north to Canada. Numerous battles were fought and many were killed. Within forty miles of the border at the Bear Paw Mountains (20 miles north of Chinook), they were attacked by a General Miles. Miles "sieged" the encampment for several days, firing cannons on the Native Americans for several days before Chief Joseph surrendered.
"I am tired of fighting. Our chiefs are killed. Looking Glass is dead. Toohoolhoolzoote is dead. The old men are all dead. It is the young men who say, "Yes" or "No." He who led the young men [Ollokot] is dead. It is cold, and we have no blankets. The little children are freezing to death. My people, some of them, have run away to the hills, and have no blankets, no food. No one knows where they are -- perhaps freezing to death. I want to have time to look for my children, and see how many of them I can find. Maybe I shall find them among the dead. Hear me, my chiefs! I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands I will fight no more forever."
- Chief Joseph
From Chinook, it was an extremely difficult and hot twenty miles to Havre, one of the biggest cities in Montana with over nine thousand residents. I met an older gentleman named Al Pennington that I had seen at the museum. His father grew up in Matt's hometown.
The sunset in Havre was something special.
Out of Havre, we had a long road to Chester.
In Hingham, Josh and I stopped to have a beer or two at a bar known as the Hi-Way Bar. We became good friends with the owner, Mike, who rode his bike from this location to Anacortes, WA in 1988 in twelve days. Time got away from us and the bartender suggested we stay. It was tough to do with the wind behind us for once but I figured if we can delay getting to Glacier Park until after Labor Day weekend, the going should be more safe.
We couldn't leave the bar. We met Juanita and she bought Josh and I beers. We met the old-timers Joe, Kent, and Lowell and they bought us a few beers. Nate, the bartender, bought us shots. Roger bought us a round of beers. Matt showed up. The sun started going down.
Another group of people came in; workers from South Africa speaking Afrikaans and teaching us all the curse words. They got us shots. It was one of the warmest receivings we've ever had.
Roger, who said some of the most hilarious things to his buddy Dave, offered to have us at his house. Unfortunately, his wife was pretty sick and she wasn't up for company but that was okay with us. We slept in the park. I slept in a tunnel on the jungle gym, fairly impaired.
Today was pretty dull and unexciting. We got coffee in the late afternoon at the bar again and watched some sports. We were able to leave without getting intoxicated and slowly inched our way to Chester, MT.
My back tire is falling apart again.
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