South of Missoula within rifle-shot, is the entrance to the great Hell
Gate Cañon; westward across the angle formed by the two rivers rises
the huge, dark wall of the Bitter Root Mountains, higher here, and
more picturesque, than the main range of the Rockies, which are half
concealed by the grassy swells of the foot-hills on the east. Lo-Lo
Peak, the loftiest and most individual mountain of the Bitter Root
chain, is covered with snow all summer; its altitude must be about
ten thousand feet. Northwest of the town the valley is broad enough
for cultivation for a distance of twenty miles, when it closes in at
the cañon of the Missoula River. A range for which there is not even
a local name rims the valley on the north. One summit, called Skotah
Peak, is a perfect pyramid in form. This cloud-compassed landmark we
shall not lose sight of in three days' travel.
Up the Bitter Root Valley there are farms scattered for sixty miles.
The valley is warmer than any other in Western Montana, and the small
fruits and some hardy varieties of apples are grown. Herds of horses
and cattle feed on the slopes of the mountains. Grain and potatoes are
grown by irrigation, and the valley is a source of food-supply for
military posts and mining-camps. Hogs are fattened upon peas and wheat,
and the flavor of a Bitter Root ham is something altogether unique
and appetizing. In June the bitter-root plant, from which the valley
gets its name, covers all the uncultivated ground with its delicate
rose-colored stars. The blossom, about as large as a wild rose, lies
close upon the earth. The long, pipestem-like root is greatly relished
by the Indians for food. When dried it looks like macaroni, and it is
by no means unpalatable when cooked with a little salt or butter, or
eaten raw. The squaws dig it with long sticks, and dry it for winter
food. Another root, also a staple in the aboriginal larder, is the
camas, which loves moist prairies, where it flaunts its blue flowers
in the early summer. In June, when the camas is ready to gather, even
the most civilized Indian on the Flathead reservation feels the nomadic
impulse too strong to resist. He packs his lodge upon ponies, and
starts with his family for some camas prairie, where he is sure to
meet a numerous company bent on having a good time.