Post by Mike Powell on Jan 26, 2007 22:46:09 GMT -6
Like many, my interest in The Little Big Horn began early. My first visit in 1953 left an impression I still carry - what a lonely place to die. Eventually I read Connell and a few others, but made no effort to understand the fight at any depth until roughly 2000. Four visits followed and the library began to grow. Each of those visits, including for the 125th anniversary, followed the same path past the Visitor Center, up the hill and beyond as the road led, to the southeast. Then it finally sank in that this approach wasn’t working for me. I think in a linear fashion and the visits were like trying to understand the U. S. Constitution by starting with the 27th Amendment and then reading back to the Preamble. In fact, it was worse than that, since the beginning couldn’t be seen, let alone walked upon, from where the road ended. I had to get closer to the beginning, to Busby, and then head west. That need to walk upon the land was critical. The understanding I’m after is the feel of the terrain; is it cut up or an open lay, what can be seen, what is concealed, and what lies ahead and to the flanks. With that I can make my evaluation of what a man could have seen and how that view, that feel might have contributed to his decisions.
At first I intended to make the trip solo. After hitting dead ends on landowner contacts and trail advice, I realized a guide was in order. Diane Merkel kindly steered me to Jim Court who fit the need exactly. Jim is a retired Park Service Superintendent Custer Battlefield 1978-86. He’s conducted something over a thousand tours and is as congenial as he is knowledgeable. We arranged to meet for breakfast in Billings on July 21 and then drove over to Busby.
Our stop at Busby was just south of the town off US 212, on the hilltop above the Chief Two Moons monument.
The view is just west of north and the Rosebud runs out of sight, tucked in at the base of the low bluffs which rise just beyond the town. Busby Creek, such as it is, lies meandering through this south end of the town, with its mouth on the Rosebud out of view to the left. Granted the place doesn’t look like much, but it was the brief camp of the 7th on the evening of June 24th and it prickled the hair on my neck.
This view is from the same location as the first, but looking SSW, with the western end of the Wolf Mountains rising in the distance. Davis Creek is draining toward you from that western end and, I believe, meets the Rosebud among that tree line in the right middle distance. The qualification indicates uncertainty due to poor note taking and abject failure to establish true bearings with the Boy Scout compass I was carrying, both related to a severe case of buck fever. Standing there, gazing at the route of the 7th and knowing what lay ahead for them, my excitement and anticipation got the best of me. In a way, it was similar to standing in the wood line of Seminary Ridge near the Virginia memorial, preparing to make the walk across the fields, to step over that low rock wall that marks the Union line, and finally reach Armistead’s marker. Viewing the route from Busby brings up that same historical romance of a command bound straight for a bloody end, but with the addition of mystery. Busby and Seminary Ridge are certain in time and place. The death spot for Custer is likely as certain as that for Armistead. The uncertainty about the in-between for Custer makes the difference. There are other differences; Gettysburg is beautiful forested ridges and hills and horribly open land for offering men to massed artillery and rifles. I believe that place is sacred, both for the great loss of life and the significance of the battle’s outcome. It is also the East, with civilization everywhere around. The route from Busby is the West. If you’re there, it’s likely you’ll be alone to take it in. A few ranch buildings and some maintained road are ahead but it’s mostly rutted trace and raw hillsides. Another difference from Gettysburg strikes me, the irony of a meaningless outcome at the Little Big Horn, whichever way it would have gone. So there you have it, a romantic and ironic mystery. Maybe somebody should write a book about the whole affair. At any rate, next time I take this tour, I’m going to breathe deeper, move slower and keep better notes.
Heading west than south from Busby, we hit a disappointment. The trail up Davis Creek is no longer open to Jim Court nor do I suspect to anyone else. We had a look up that trail but them moved on south about three miles over good road to the trail up Thompson Creek. Ascending that drainage, near its upper extent, we crossed back north to the Divide Marker. Here we could look back eastward into upper Davis Creek. Having traveled up Thompson and looked into both ends of Davis, they seem pretty much alike to me, more open and unbroken than I had expected and fairly easy in their slope (my preconceptions probably based on the terrain near Battle Ridge.) For Jim Court, ascending Thompson makes the better tour as he believes that route, not Davis Creek, was taken by the column.
This is typical of Thompson Creek, with upstream to the left.
At the Divide, like Busby, you’re standing on certainty of time and place for the 7th. We were there at noon and we discussed the view to the pony herd. Jim mentioned he’d stood here before and watched the dust of tilling work rise from the fields where the herd would have been moving. It’s a long view. I make it 14 miles to a likely closest point of the herd. I stared at it quite a while and believe it’s entirely possible to have seen sign of that big a herd, if someone told you just where to look. I know we’re not talking about the Crow’s Nest, and I’m not aware of anyone in the 7th having said they saw the herd from the Divide, but if the day was clear and the ponies were raising dust I think it would have just been visible. The terrain prevents any view of the village from the Divide and Jim is adamant that there is no point, including any argued Crow’s Nest location, giving such a view until you reach the final bluffs above the village. He proves his point by taking you on to the village area and defying you to point out any rise beyond those same bluffs. It’s quite convincing. I believe no one could have seen that village until they were just above it.
This sketch lays out the area as it is found on the USGS 7.5 Minute Series, with the individual map names shown: Crow Agency. Crow Agency SE, etc. Point A and B are the highest features in view from the Divide along the line to the village and the battle area. Elevations in feet are noted for most of the shown features.
Here’s the view from the Divide. The black, red and blue ticks correspond to the azimuths for the pony herd, Medicine Tail Coulee Ford and Last Stand Hill, as shown on the sketch above. Point A and B are also indicated.
This is the same view as above, but using 10X optical zoom.
From the Divide we took a circuitous route to descend Reno Creek. Again I was surprised at how unbroken and easily passable the terrain along the route appeared. After hitting the flat, we crossed I-90 and drove up some low bluffs west of Garryowen for a fine view across the valley that put the lay from Reno-Benteen to Last Stand Hill in one panorama. After nosing around on the camp site and spending some time at MTC ford, we called it a day. I was flatly Custered-out at that point. It was a great tour, well worth the price. Even if it had no history, it’s a great day trip to see the best the West offers, some solitude and just a whiff of adventure.
At first I intended to make the trip solo. After hitting dead ends on landowner contacts and trail advice, I realized a guide was in order. Diane Merkel kindly steered me to Jim Court who fit the need exactly. Jim is a retired Park Service Superintendent Custer Battlefield 1978-86. He’s conducted something over a thousand tours and is as congenial as he is knowledgeable. We arranged to meet for breakfast in Billings on July 21 and then drove over to Busby.
Our stop at Busby was just south of the town off US 212, on the hilltop above the Chief Two Moons monument.
The view is just west of north and the Rosebud runs out of sight, tucked in at the base of the low bluffs which rise just beyond the town. Busby Creek, such as it is, lies meandering through this south end of the town, with its mouth on the Rosebud out of view to the left. Granted the place doesn’t look like much, but it was the brief camp of the 7th on the evening of June 24th and it prickled the hair on my neck.
This view is from the same location as the first, but looking SSW, with the western end of the Wolf Mountains rising in the distance. Davis Creek is draining toward you from that western end and, I believe, meets the Rosebud among that tree line in the right middle distance. The qualification indicates uncertainty due to poor note taking and abject failure to establish true bearings with the Boy Scout compass I was carrying, both related to a severe case of buck fever. Standing there, gazing at the route of the 7th and knowing what lay ahead for them, my excitement and anticipation got the best of me. In a way, it was similar to standing in the wood line of Seminary Ridge near the Virginia memorial, preparing to make the walk across the fields, to step over that low rock wall that marks the Union line, and finally reach Armistead’s marker. Viewing the route from Busby brings up that same historical romance of a command bound straight for a bloody end, but with the addition of mystery. Busby and Seminary Ridge are certain in time and place. The death spot for Custer is likely as certain as that for Armistead. The uncertainty about the in-between for Custer makes the difference. There are other differences; Gettysburg is beautiful forested ridges and hills and horribly open land for offering men to massed artillery and rifles. I believe that place is sacred, both for the great loss of life and the significance of the battle’s outcome. It is also the East, with civilization everywhere around. The route from Busby is the West. If you’re there, it’s likely you’ll be alone to take it in. A few ranch buildings and some maintained road are ahead but it’s mostly rutted trace and raw hillsides. Another difference from Gettysburg strikes me, the irony of a meaningless outcome at the Little Big Horn, whichever way it would have gone. So there you have it, a romantic and ironic mystery. Maybe somebody should write a book about the whole affair. At any rate, next time I take this tour, I’m going to breathe deeper, move slower and keep better notes.
Heading west than south from Busby, we hit a disappointment. The trail up Davis Creek is no longer open to Jim Court nor do I suspect to anyone else. We had a look up that trail but them moved on south about three miles over good road to the trail up Thompson Creek. Ascending that drainage, near its upper extent, we crossed back north to the Divide Marker. Here we could look back eastward into upper Davis Creek. Having traveled up Thompson and looked into both ends of Davis, they seem pretty much alike to me, more open and unbroken than I had expected and fairly easy in their slope (my preconceptions probably based on the terrain near Battle Ridge.) For Jim Court, ascending Thompson makes the better tour as he believes that route, not Davis Creek, was taken by the column.
This is typical of Thompson Creek, with upstream to the left.
At the Divide, like Busby, you’re standing on certainty of time and place for the 7th. We were there at noon and we discussed the view to the pony herd. Jim mentioned he’d stood here before and watched the dust of tilling work rise from the fields where the herd would have been moving. It’s a long view. I make it 14 miles to a likely closest point of the herd. I stared at it quite a while and believe it’s entirely possible to have seen sign of that big a herd, if someone told you just where to look. I know we’re not talking about the Crow’s Nest, and I’m not aware of anyone in the 7th having said they saw the herd from the Divide, but if the day was clear and the ponies were raising dust I think it would have just been visible. The terrain prevents any view of the village from the Divide and Jim is adamant that there is no point, including any argued Crow’s Nest location, giving such a view until you reach the final bluffs above the village. He proves his point by taking you on to the village area and defying you to point out any rise beyond those same bluffs. It’s quite convincing. I believe no one could have seen that village until they were just above it.
This sketch lays out the area as it is found on the USGS 7.5 Minute Series, with the individual map names shown: Crow Agency. Crow Agency SE, etc. Point A and B are the highest features in view from the Divide along the line to the village and the battle area. Elevations in feet are noted for most of the shown features.
Here’s the view from the Divide. The black, red and blue ticks correspond to the azimuths for the pony herd, Medicine Tail Coulee Ford and Last Stand Hill, as shown on the sketch above. Point A and B are also indicated.
This is the same view as above, but using 10X optical zoom.
From the Divide we took a circuitous route to descend Reno Creek. Again I was surprised at how unbroken and easily passable the terrain along the route appeared. After hitting the flat, we crossed I-90 and drove up some low bluffs west of Garryowen for a fine view across the valley that put the lay from Reno-Benteen to Last Stand Hill in one panorama. After nosing around on the camp site and spending some time at MTC ford, we called it a day. I was flatly Custered-out at that point. It was a great tour, well worth the price. Even if it had no history, it’s a great day trip to see the best the West offers, some solitude and just a whiff of adventure.
