Lewis & Clark
The wild terrain and striking beauty of the Bitterroot Valley has held travelers in reverence since the days of Lewis and Clark. The Corps of Discovery entered the area in the fall of 1805 through the southern part of the valley, at Lost Trail Pass. From there, they traveled north toward present day Missoula to the confluence of Lolo creek and the Bitterroot River. At this juncture, which was named Traveler’s Rest, the Corps of Discovery turned westward once more, to cross over the Bitterroot Range through Lolo Pass—following Lolo Creek and the Nez Perce Trail. In July of 1806 the Corps of Discovery visited Traveler’s Rest again on their return journey eastward. At that time, the group split into two; with Lewis headed northeast and Clark south, for further discovery.
At many places in “The Bitterroot,” visitors can read roadside signs that illustrate Lewis and Clark’s movement through the valley. Yet, most don’t suspect that Dunrovin Ranch has one of these markers on its property that actually provides incorrect information identifying the location of Travelers Rest, which is now a state park. Fortunately, this was a short-lived mistake andTraveler’s Rest State Park has been correctly identified 1.3 miles west of the ranch.
The Traveler’s Rest Preservation and Heritage Association has been a driving force in helpingTraveler’s Rest State Park develop a museum and visitor’s site that tell the compelling story of the Corps of Discovery. Bill and Ramona Holt of the Holt Heritage Museum have been particularly supportive and instrumental in making Traveler’s Rest the center of Lolo and bringing the story of Lewis and Clark to visitors and residents alike.
Dunrovin Ranch owners, Sterling and SuzAnne Miller, have long been ardent fans of Lewis and Clark, marveling at their courage and leadership. The more they learned, the more impressed they were. It is nearly impossible not to be awed by their achievement. They lost only one person to sickness during their two year journey. They sought and obtained friendship and assistance from most of the American Indian tribes they encountered, with only one hostile encounter that ended in an Indian fatality. Their scientific findings and measurements were rigorous and invaluable in understanding the country through which they traveled, and their sense of geography coupled with their just and confident leadership of the corps made the expedition successful. One of the Miller’s favorite places for finding information about them is Discovering Lewis and Clark.
Dunrovin Ranch strives to emulate the characteristics so aptly demonstrated by the Corps of Discovery by celebrating courage to explore new territory with a sense of scientific and cultural curiosity and respect, fostering a connection with local residents for better understanding of place, demonstrating a focus on the safety of all involved, and approaching the natural world with a sense of awe.
What’s in a Name?: The Origin Story of “Dunrovin”
Visitors to Dunrovin Ranch frequently assume that Dunrovin is our family name of Scottish origin. It’s a reasonable assumption. “Dunrovin” is the traditional name given by retired British couples to their seaside bungalow or other terminal home. In addition, the similar sounding Dunrobin Castle is one of Glasgow’s most famous and beautiful fairy-tale castles. Alas, my family roots do not lead to Dunrobin castle; and while I love the British, I have very little British blood in my veins.
Rather, my use of the name “Dunrovin” comes to me from my great grandmother’s love of Montana. As a young woman in the 1880s, my great grandmother, Clara, and her husband, Harry, lived in a log cabin along Carpenter Creek near the mining town of Neihart in Montana’s Big Belt Mountains. There, she gave birth to my grandmother, Gertrude. Circumstances, however, forced the family to leave Montana and return to the Midwest where, with the proceeds from his Montana mining adventures, Harry built a mansion on banks of the Mississippi River.
Harry was clearly a risk taker – something he and I share. Unfortunately, his risk taking got him into significant financial trouble (let’s hope this is where the ancestral comparison ends!) and lost his fortune. Ashamed of his losses, Harry literally abandoned his now very large family and fled to the woods of Wisconsin. Left with seven children and a huge house, Clara did the only sensible thing: she piled the family into one bedroom and opened a boarding house. She remained there until the last child left home and she was free to follow her own muse –Montana.
Gertrude and two of her sisters had already been lured back to Montana by the time Clara was free to find her way back to the tiny settlement of cabins along Carpenter Creek. Upon arrival, she declared that she was “Dun Rovin’” – she never meant to leave Montana and she was back to stay. A “Dun Rovin” sign was fashioned from wood and nailed above the front door.
As a child, I spent many wonderful summer days (and a few winter days) with my grandmother at Dun Rovin. My heart is full with memories of long summer days hiking the hills, picking wild raspberries, fishing the streams, and sleeping on the screened-in porch during wild thunderstorms. Best of all, we searched the old mining town dumps for fancy colored glass bottles. Grandma and I gathered a collection of perfume and oil bottles that we kept in a beautiful wooden steamer chest with multiple compartments. That chest with it amber, sage, and azure colored bottles is still vivid in my mind. Oh, to have it today!
Those Montana memories were always fresh in my heart and mind as I moved about the world: Seattle for graduate school, Chile for three years with the Peace Corps, and Alaska for over twenty years of working with natural resource agencies. Montana remained my real home throughout my travels. Once my aging parents required assistance and my husband and I could retire from our positions, we turned our family towards that Montana home. I too was “dun rovin”.
Several years ago, I drove back to see if the old cabin was still standing. My father had sold it when my grandmother died. The cabin was there, just as I remembered it. There too was the tiny “princess cabin” that dad had built just for me and my dolls. Gone was much of the forest – fallen to profits of the local timber company. My heart sang and wept at the same time.
I left my business card taped to the door, asking if I could rent the cabin. A month later, a call came from the cabin owners who invited me to come and stay as long as I liked. Typical Montanans, they thought nothing of responding favorably to a business card left by a trespasser on their property. Naturally I sent them copies of old photos and outlined the history of the cabin as I knew it. It pleases me greatly to know that new memories are being made by new people at the Dun Rovin cabin.
