A mystery of the wilderness

Sometimes in our youth an event occurs that seems unimportant at that time but sticks with us for the rest of our life. It happened to me.

My uncle, Vernon Kettleson, worked on a B & B (Bridge and Building) crew for Great Northern Railway. In August 1951, his railroad crew cars were parked at the Java Ranger Station site just east of the famed "Goat Lick" blue rocks on the Middle Fork of the Flathead River.

My uncle invited a close friend of mine, Jim Weikert of Somers, to come, along with me, to enjoy two days of wilderness fishing. We were 15 years old at the time. We readily agreed and rode up with him from Somers to the site of the Ranger Station. It was Aug. 13, 1951.

That morning, with our fly rods intact and a batch of freshly tied Royal Coachman wet flies, we walked across the train trestle over Highway 2 and then across the high railroad bridge that spans the Middle Fork.

We crossed over Java Creek and continued on about a mile or two to where another bridge crossed over Sheep Creek, just opposite the Goat Lick. We found a trail that lead down along the creek and made our way upstream.

This was isolated wilderness and grizzly bear country, but we were young and didn't care. Fortunately, in our two day adventure we saw no bears.

After a couple of miles, I dropped down to the creek and started fishing. Jim continued upstream about 30 minutes and then followed me downstream.

We met again about the level of the stream mouth where it entered the Middle Fork. I had fished perhaps 20 minutes when the event occurred that has puzzled me for over 50 years. Suddenly, I looked up and saw an old man standing on a rock across the creek.

He was dressed in black with a bushy beard and old time hat. He was staring, without smiling at me. I looked behind him and thought I could make out a cabin in the woods but I wasn't sure. I stammered out, "Good morning" and he responded in kind. I elected to continue fishing and moved down the stream. When I looked back, he was gone.

Later, I visited with Jim to see if he had seen the man, but he had not. We fished for two days on Sheep Creek and I caught (and released) 81 trout, a long-standing record for me; Jim also had good luck.

I have continued over the years to consider my visitor but it is only recently that I had some insight into the person's existence in the wilderness. Recently, I was given a copy of "Wild River Pioneers' by John Fraley. Fraley is a wildlife conservationist who has worked in Northwest Montana for nearly 30 years. He has had an historical interest in the early pioneers who were trappers, prospectors, railroad men, park rangers and just plain people who liked living in the wilderness. He has hiked, fished and hunted parts of the Middle Fork areas including the Great Bear and the Bob Marshall Wilderness.

He found that many of the early pioneers preferred the isolation of the area. They hunted and fished, often paying little attention to legal aspects of wildlife regulations. Fraley does an outstanding job of telling the story of early pioneer characters, the wild, (but short) history of McCarthyville, Slippery Bill Morrison and others.

Fraley speaks of the Sheep Creek Trail although there is no mention of a squatter in the woods along Sheep Creek in the 1950s.

So the mystery remains unsolved. Who was the mountain man on the rock that I saw in 1951? Was he a lone trapper thriving on the abundance of fur bearing animals in the area? Or was he a fugitive evading law enforcement officers? Was I in imminent danger or was he just curious about this young boy who was fishing "his creek?"

What ever became of him? Did he move on before winter descended on his environment? Did he perhaps die in his cabin with no one if the world to care for or identify him?

Northwest Montana is an interesting place. We have a history (and mystery) that is unique to our land.