 |
|
|
Milk In a a vision quest, a young Blackfoot would spend four days and nights without water or food on top of a hoodoo -- their word for the strange rock formations in this valley. The border between the US and Canada was called the "medicine line" by the Blackfoot, because for some reason unknown and magical to them, the Canadian Mounties would stop chasing them when they crossed the line heading south with contraband whiskey. Likewise the Americans would stop the chase when they ran to the north.
|
THE NATIVE AMERICANS made this a sacred place. They trekked over the windy, barren plains and prairie attracted, as I was, by a small mountain peak in the distance. After trudging day after day over the flat land, they must have been astonished to arrive suddenly on the lip of a river valley so abrupt that if they had been traveling on wheels at high speed, they might have fallen right in. In the valley lie clusters of twisted rock formations, like petrified tornadoes, laced with pits and holes that make some resemble faces. The tops of many are flat, providing perfect perches from which to watch the subtle spectacles of nature: deer feeding at sunset, or the closing of a cactus flower with morning's first light. I arrived just before sunset to view a slow, muddy river below me, winding its way around a busy but clean campground. To assuage curiosity and to save the larger part of the park, visitors in one sacrificial area are allowed to climb on the miniature buttes and top-heavy rocks balanced on slender stems. AFTER TAKING IN the view for a time, I rode into camp. It was Monday, and there were plenty of empty sites. I chose one next to the river, next to what looked to be a family of eight. The parents, who were in the first stages of making dinner, looked up and waved. The girls, who ranged in age from about four to twelve, all stared. Before I could even unpack, Moe walked over and handed me a beer, then invited me to dinner . . .. . . read the rest of this story in American Borders - the book
|
