Perspective

Bill was looking for the trail to the Burton Peak lookout. He said there was an old cabin up there, and that he'd like to hike to the lookout sometime. After all, Burton Peak represented one more tall mountain among the Selkirks that he had not hiked. Last summer, he reached the top of three major peaks in that ruggedly beautiful area northwest of Bonners Ferry.

We drove to Bonners Ferry yesterday afternoon, like so many other locals who'd heard about possible flooding of the Kootenai River. Of course, when a big natural calamity happens in this area, people want to witness it. I remember a few years ago when the Myrtle Creek fire west of the valley kept folks busy driving to and from Bonners Ferry for several days to see how much of those beautiful mountainsides overlooking the Kootenai Valley the unruly August blaze intended to burn.

We drove through that very forest fire area yesterday after checking out the river and agreeing it was mighty close to flowing over its banks. Along our way to the Myrtle Creek road, we saw a few docks that appeared unleashed and floating like wooden islands several feet from shore. High, slow flowing water in Deep Creek at the Bird Refuge suggested sure mosquito heaven among the cottonwoods.

Bill had heard the Myrtle Creek Road was closed, and the sign at the turn-off indicated as such but six miles up. We drove two or three miles before turning off at the Burton Creek Road. I'd never been on that route before, but Kiwi had. While Bill reminded her of the day she accompanied him and Willie on a geocaching run, I took in the open hillsides of huge Ponderosa pine rising out of rich green grass. The drive also provided us several spectacular views of the wet, expansive Kootenai Valley below. At one point as we rounded a bend, a young whitetail buck in the velvet stood like a statue on the hillside above staring down on us.

We drove for several miles before coming to a large turnaround area at the end of the road and to an obvious fire line separating the Myrtle Creek burn from untouched forest land. Bill said a few fingers of fire had gone over the top and down the other side, but for the most part, the fire fighters had stopped its action before it could do more damage.

A trail led off into the woods from the turnaround spot. Kiwi and I took it to see where it led while Bill stood near the burn and looked off toward Roman Nose Mountain, still complaining about how a reporter had called it Sundance Mountain in yesterday's Daily Bee.

Our trail was covered with lots of fresh moose droppings and huge beds of colorful wildflowers growing within moss blankets and thriving at full bloom, thanks to the southern exposure. Later, Bill joined us as we climbed on some huge rocks and looked off toward the expanse of mountain tops. As I panned the grandeur of the Selkirks, I spotted a most familiar sight in the distance.

"There are the Green Monarchs, and there's the lake," I announced to Bill. Although interrupted by layers of other peaks in the foreground, a portion of the very recognizable Monarchs on the southeast side of Lake Pend Oreille near the Clark Fork River could be easily seen from my rocky perch. Bill stepped up to take a peek. He simply acknowledged my discovery and commented about the area lying just before the scene being that of Jack Nicklaus' new golf digs.

I don't know why, but it struck me as odd to be standing on a peak northwest of Bonners Ferry where a view southeast of Sandpoint nearly 60 miles away via road could be seen so clearly. I marvel at such moments and never cease to be amazed at how new perspectives can make all the difference in how we see our world.