Rock Creek Road

A couple weekends ago we were part of a large gathering at a campground along the world-class trout stream (though only 1/23 of our group did any fishing (she caught one)) known as Rock Creek.

At Philipsburg we turned West, entering new-to-Ludwig territory. Not long after, this happened:

 

This was the third time that's happened to us. 

 About 44 miles from home the pavement ends and the valley/canyon begins. 

Those are bighorn sheep, not regular sheep. 

There was another moose back in there but we couldn't get a clear shot. 

Melissa reminded me that if Ludwig's paint was in too good a shape, we might be less inclined to scrape him through bramble patches like this.

Not long after we arrived at our destination, Bitterroot Flat Campground, more child labor showed up to lug the campfire fuel around.

(cont'd)