Channeling the Productive Past
Shortly after one passes the merging waters of the three forks, at the confluence of the Jefferson, Gallatin and Madison Rivers where the mighty Missouri begins its 2,341 mile trek draining many creeks, rivers and brooks along its route, one begins to climb Interstate Highway 90 cresting at the lofty summit of Cardwell Pass.
Two sharp corners down the other side and the 17½ mile Jefferson Valley vividly erupts into full view. The green farms of alfalfa stop at the forested foothills of the snow-peaked Tobacco Root Mountains to the south and the Bull Mountains to the north - the white caps of the Highland Mountains tower to the west. The small town of Whitehall sits 9 miles away, with its shorter buildings remaining unseen except for a tall, concrete stack, a long-ago, failed speculative venture into sugar beet processing.
Also prominent in the Bull Mountains to the north are geometrically perfected hills and meadows of grasses. A little removed and out of place perhaps, especially against nature’s more haphazard designs, but these reclaimed expanses of grasses housed the once thriving Golden Sunlight Mine – a gold producer. Let there be no mistake, there is no mined metal on earth that is quite as useful as gold.
After passing through Whitehall and then some 8½ miles to the west, begins the climb up and over Homestake Pass. The rear view mirror shows the impressive and illustrious view just left behind. The first thing to note on Homestake is the massive granite rock outcropping of the Boulder Batholith most of which is fractured north and south as if broke by mechanical rock hammer. Six and one-half miles of travel up the pass of mostly-gray rock and ponderosa pine, the summit at 6,329 feet is reached. You are about to leave the Atlantic watershed toward the waters that flow west to the Pacific. A few turns later and the historic city of Butte, Montana comes into complete view. The eye immediately goes to the extensive Berkley Open Pit, once mined by the famed Anaconda Copper Company and still worked to this very day by others.
Here while environmentalists mistakenly and ignorantly whine and cry, patriotic Americans take a knee, thanking the copper removed from this location that allowed for the allied victory in the momentous war efforts – especially World War II.
This condensed story of a historically renowned region of Montana is in stark contrast to the linked story appearing in “The Atlantic”. Where they see unsightliness, I see that beauty remains. Where they see past crudity, I see where families worked and thrived. Where they see a history of destruction, I see the moral value of what people needed to do and how those endeavors helped and shaped humanity through tough times. Those that continue to remember, continue to blossom.
Those that constantly choose negativity while inventing language of pessimism, linger in sadness and despondency.