SweetGrass Memories
Sean Weinert, Chester High School

The small outcropping of rocks poking out from North Central Montana, just north of the small town of Chester, has importance to many people in the Treasure State. Native Americans considered it sacred, the miners believed there would be lots of gold around it, and cattle barrens from Texas thought it was the best grazing land they had seen in years. More than one hundred years ago, people came to the hills trying to strike it rich in the gold fields. Before them the Native Americans would travel from many miles away to gather sweetgrass and hold sacred ceremonies. From the ceremonies of the Native Americans to the grass ranges of the cattle ranches, everyone continues to use the hills. The hills are full of natural wonders and minerals, like Seven Rooms Cave, The Bears Den, and Devil's Chimney.

We had not been up to Devil's chimney for a quite a few years, remembering the beauty and serenity of it I would always nag Dad to go camping. Unfortunately, he was always too busy at work or the weather was too nasty. Finally when I was about 13 my dad and I loaded up the little, red Chevy Luv pick-up and headed out north toward the Chimney. My dad didn't think we would be able to get in, so we were both surprised when the Miessners said it was okay with them. When we reached the campsite I went and tried to cut some firewood with a little hand held survival tool that was supposed to help save a life if one got lost; it broke in about five minutes. I then went to the pick-up and got the tree saw which made getting the firewood easy. As I started to build a fire, dad set up our little four-man tent that actually only holds two people. After we had the fire going and the tent set up, dad told me to go get the food out of the pickup. I opened the door and looked on the floor, on the seat, behind the seat, and in the box of the pickup. I told dad that we didn't have any food. He mentioned looking under the seat, so I did, and there was a big bag of potatoes, a can of beans, and two cans of peaches. When we left town, we forgot to pack some extra food, but dad said that the beans and potatoes would be good enough for dinner tonight, and we could eat the peaches for breakfast. We cooked the meal, which was actually pretty good, and then went to bed.

At about 2:30 in the morning I heard some noise, my dad asked me if I was going to put the rain fly on, or sit in the tent and get wet. I jumped up and ran outside, I had the rain fly on about halfway and it started to pour. I was stuck outside, getting drenched by the rain. I finally got the rain fly on and jumped back into the tent.

The next morning we got up, ate our can of rather old peaches and started the hike to Devil's chimney. As we started up the trail I felt like a little boy again, following my dad up, asking questions about everything I saw. The only thing that was different from my younger experiences was how steep the trail seemed. I was out of breath about halfway up. I looked at my dad and he was just as tired as I was. Dad started to tell me about when he used to have a claim in the hills. Pat, my dad, and I walked up the steep, dirt trail; I was slipping, sliding, and starting to fall behind. I never remembered the trail being this steep back then.

We came to a level spot on the hill and took a little break. I knew we were getting close, and I was starting to become excited. Every time we went to the claim, I would start to wonder about all the people who had come here before me. Gold was discovered up in the hills in 1884; the strike was small, but it has continued to draw people in ever since. I wondered if they felt the same way when the end of the trail came, and there sat The Devil's Chimney, deep and mysterious. Whenever I see the Devil's Chimney I am filled with awe.

When I was younger I was always a little scared, yet I wanted to go inside and see if it really was the Devil's Chimney. I heard many people talking about how mountain lions lived inside it and the stories scared me. I also thought there were big rattlesnakes with huge fangs, sitting in the entrance, waiting for me to come in.

On the ridge opposite Devil's Chimney, I also remember a huge grass covered ridge. I had heard stories of cattle barrens bringing in the cattle from Texas and letting them graze in and around the hills. I thought of how many cowboys must have sat down on that ridge and looked at the beauty of Devil's Chimney and the surrounding valley. A few years after gold was discovered and the massive flow of ranchers moved into the hills, the government took possession of the hills away from the Blackfoot, and shrunk the reservation down considerably. My dad's claim was around the creek at the base of the chimney. We went there a lot when I was younger. It was fun for me because we would dig in the dirt, then splash around in the creek looking for gold. My dad didn't find very much gold, one flake is all I can remember, but whenever I would look at the gold, it would remind me of Devil's Chimney and I would always want to go back. When I was six or seven my dad lost the claim because we didn't work on it enough or show any improvements to the mine.

While we were resting my dad told me another story about the time we came up here when it was getting late, and he and Pat threw me into the shaker and packed me all the way up the hill. He said after that I never wanted to walk up the hill again. Of course I don't remember it that way. That's the way it is every time we went up to Devil's Chimney, my dad would tell me stories of when I was little and he was younger. I learned a lot about myself and my dad from the stories he's told.

I went to Devil's Chimney again this past hunting season. My hunting buddies came and picked me up; we left at 5:00 in the morning on that warm fall morning. When we came to the base of East Butte I looked up and saw how steep it was. I turned and looked at my buddies and asked if they really wanted to walk straight up this thing. They both said yes, so we took off. We had walked three-quarters of the way up the mountain when we ran into some shale. The shale poked into my feet, slipped out from underneath me, and made the walk pretty much impossible. After about a half an hour, we came to a spot where we could look out over a little meadow. Joe, one of my buddies, and I sat down and began to glass the place.

After about fifteen minutes we spotted some elk down below us. There was a big bull in the herd, so we decided to hunt them. We planned the hunt and took off towards the elk. We walked for a while, when we noticed the elk moving into the flats. We lay down and hoped that they didn't catch our sent, but the keen nose of the bull picked us up right away. They took off running over a ridge, and we waited for them to get out of sight before running after them. When we finally crossed the ridge that the elk had crossed, we sat down and glassed the area. We didn't see them anywhere. We walked a little farther until we were into some trees. We sat down and started to call. By this time it was about 10:00 and we had been up for hours. We were tired and hungry, but we left the food and water in the old blue and white Bronco.

We sat there for about 15 minutes and then decided to try the backside of East Butte. We had walked about a half mile when Joe said that he recognized the spot. He said it was really close to Tootsie Creek, which flowed down by Devil's Chimney. He said we should just keep walking the back side and it would take us to the Bronco. We took off again, walking toward the ridge, when suddenly we ran out of trail. It just disappeared into a broken up wall of shale, which stretched out for a couple miles. It was the worst sight I have ever seen. The shale made the walk slow and meticulous, forcing us to pick our trails as careful as possible. We were all getting tired and thirsty. The walk seemed to take hours, it reminded me of when I was younger, walking up the trail to Devil's Chimney, but we thought there was water just over the ridge.

The shale finally came to an end, and we started walking among the trees again. We came over the top of the ridge, and Joe said that we were a little farther away from Devil's Chimney than he had thought. That was really bad news considering how thirsty we all were, but we had come a long way, so we just decided to keep walking. We headed down the hill and ran into another shale wall. We all swore right there that we would never walk on shale again. We avoided the shale as much as possible, and in the process we ran into a creek bed; it was a great feeling. Our pace picked up a little as we walked down the empty creek bed. We came around a corner, and the water was flowing in the creek. We found a big pool, and Joe went first, burying his head in the cold water. I went next, and while I was sucking the cold water out of the creek, I thought of the creek I played in at Devil's Chimney when I was little. The water felt great then and it felt great now.

After Crocket got a drink we packed up and headed towards Devil's Chimney, which Joe reassured us was right around the corner. After a little hike we came into a clearing and there it was. It was just as remarkable as I remembered. As always, I was as amazed at the mystery and beauty of this place. The ruins of the old mining shacks, the way the big black crows flew in and out. That made me think of the old timer who sat, maybe in this exact spot, and tried to strike it rich. With the green grass, the big pines, and the blue skies, even if he never found gold that old timer must have felt like he was the richest man in the world every time he looked out his window. I could have sat there all day and thought of the times my dad and I had come up here, but it was starting to get late so we packed up and headed out. On the hike back to the bronco we all decided this was the greatest day hunting we had ever had. We headed home leaving the animals, trees, the old miners' shack, and our memories to sit in the beauty of the Devil's Chimney.

Essay of Place Issue
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