Missoula. Who Knew?

We discovered Missoula, Montana quite by accident. Due to the wildfires and heavy smoke on the west side of Glacier National Park, we cancelled the three days we had booked in Whitefish, MT and sought better air quality further south. The choices were limited and we landed in Missoula.

Before arriving, we knew pretty much nothing about this place, which meant one thing… we had to get out and explore! On our first night, there was a street festival downtown and just a few blocks from our Airbnb. We could hear the music from our back porch, so we had to check it out. They had art vendors, food and craft beer trucks, and live music on a very large stage. There was a sizable crowd with a mix of college students (the University of Montana is here), families, and oldies like us. Lots of fun.

In the morning we set out to see some of the local parks along the Clark Fork River and to visit Fort Missoula, which we knew zip, nada, zilch about.

One of the parks along the river features an operating carousel. This isn’t your ordinary carousel. It was donated in 1991 by a cabinet maker who had hand-carved four carousel ponies and owned pieces of an antique frame. He made a “Field of Dreams” kind of deal with the city of Missoula, saying “if you will give it a home and promise no one will ever take it apart, I will build a carousel for Missoula.” The city took him up on his offer. He taught others to carve, mechanics began the process of restoring 16,066 pieces of the antique frame and motor, painters were recruited, and work began. Four years later, over 100,000 hours of volunteer time had gone into the construction of it. School children collected one million pennies to adopt four ponies. It’s a living testimony to the positive power of a community. But, most of all, it was training for our horseback riding at the ranch, which is just days away.

First, we had to select the proper horses. The right size and temperament would be critical to a successful training ride. Here’s a great photo of my horse:

Bev’s horse is to the left of mine. It is black and is adorned with a coat of armor and a saddle flap with a bulldog on it. This horse is clearly for a rider who relishes charging into battle.

Here we are, mounted on our horses, ready to ride. Me on Daisy and Bev on Tornado (inspired by Zorro’s horse).

Bev shot a “training video” during our ride and after viewing it a few times, I think I’m ready for the ranch. I’m certain that they’ll be impressed with my horse handling and riding skills, and once they see me in my cowboy hat, there will be no doubt left.

After our “training ride”, we headed to Fort Missoula. It turns out that this wasn’t a traditional fort with walls and parapets. It was built in 1877 as an “open fort” in response to settlers requesting protection from potential Indian attacks, an outpost where soldiers patrolled the area. The fort later became a center for the internment of Italian, Japanese, and German detainees at the outbreak of WWII.

The original structures are no longer standing but the grounds are owned by the County of Missoula, who maintains it as a military and local history museum. A couple of fun things on the museum grounds were a Tipi Burner and an original gear-driven locomotive, both used in the Western Montana timber industry. Tipi Burners were used to burn sawmill waste and existed throughout the area. Smoke would pour out of the top but, thankfully, their use was banned with the Clean Air Act of 1970.

One of the most fascinating parts of the fort’s history is the 25th Infantry Bicycle Corps. In 1896-7 this all-black unit was led by their white commander, Lt. James E. Moss. The purpose of the unit was to test the newly-invented bicycle as an alternative to horses as a mode of transportation for the U.S. Army. In the proposal to his superior command, Moss wrote “the bicycle has a number of advantages over the horse–it does not require much care, it needs no forage, it moves much faster over fair roads, it is not as conspicuous and can be hidden from sight more easily; it is noiseless and raises but little dust, and it is impossible to tell direction from its track.” He believed that the “modern up-to-date army” should have both. Moss selected 20 volunteers to ride bicycles from Fort Missoula, Montana to St. Louis, Missouri, a distance of 3,800 miles round trip. They were accompanied by an army surgeon and a reporter. We couldn’t help but compare their experience with our cross-country ride last year.

They did not have lightweight road bikes and staff to carry their gear. Their bikes were donated to the government by Spalding, who were eager for its product to undergo a rigorous test. With a 10-pound blanket roll (including supplies), a 10-pound rifle, and a 50-round cartridge belt, each bicycle weighed about 59 pounds.

They did not have paved roads or convenient bridges. They rode on rutted dirt paths and often resorted to riding on railroad tracks because the roads were so terrible. They pushed their bikes over the Continental Divide and carried them across rivers. Although they could top out at 18 mph with a good tailwind, they averaged 6.5 mph.

They did not have spandex and wicking athletic apparel. They wore one change of clothes that they could never wash. They did not have fancy gearing, carbon frames, or electronic shifting. The bicycle chain had just been invented.

They did not have staff or volunteers setting up food stations and rest stops along the way. They carried only two days’ rations, and with food pick-up points stationed every 100 miles, their daily riding average had to be 50 miles. Nobody served them pasta or pizza for dinner, there were no microbreweries along the way, and no Best Western waffle maker. They slept in tents and ate crackers (hardtack) and beans.

The unit arrived in St. Louis with their bicycles, 41 days and 1,900 miles later, although I suppose that none of them had a choice, what with being black enlisted men in 1897 and not having a van to pick them up and drive them to the end. They did not, however, have to ride their bicycles back to Montana, as the Army determined that the bicycle would not be a viable form of troop transportation. Instead, the soldiers rode the train back to Fort Missoula, where they were soon sent to Cuba to fight in the Spanish-American War. The bicycles were returned to Spalding and the Bicycle Corps was disbanded.

If you want to learn more about the 25th Infantry Bicycle Corps, here’s a detailed daily account of the entire journey that also includes known information about each rider.

Carousels, community, and things they never taught us in history class. That’s why we love road trips.