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On July 3, 1901, the Great Northern Express from St. Paul pulled into Malta, Montana. One of its passengers sat quietly in the back with his hat pulled over his eyes. He could not take a chance that someone would recognize him. His face had been appearing on wanted posters since he made the mistake of having a photo taken in Ft. Worth, Texas.
As the train prepared to leave, another passenger with his hat pulled low stepped aboard. He also was concerned about being recognized since he was in that same photo. The first passenger, Butch Cassidy, looked up and acknowledged his partner, Sundance Kid, with a nod.
In the meantime, Kid Curry, boarded the train from the water tower above and hid behind the engineer in the tinder. When the train began to move, he stepped forward with his gun pulled and instructed the engineer to keep the train moving until he was ordered to stop. That order came about half way between Malta and Wagner.
While Butch and Sundance kept the passengers covered, two other members of the Wild Bunch came out of the brush with getaway horses. Kid Curry used dynamite to open the safe. Within a few minutes, the Wild Bunch collected $60,000 and rode off in a cloud of dust. They were headed for the Missouri Breaks on the Missouri River.
Kid Curry knew the area well. Prior to his outlaw career, he worked throughout eastern Montana as a ranchhand Before getting into a fight and killing Pike Landusky, he operated a ranch near the town of Landusky. The hideout he chose for himself and his pals was on an island in the center of the Missouri River. To get there, he took them through a ravine called Hideaway Coulee, to the river's edge where a boat was hidden to get them to the island. A friend took their horses out to open range while the outlaws settled in to wait for the posse to get tired of looking for them.
Hideaway Coulee and Grand Island are on the map, however, there are no roads within five miles of either one so if you want to go there, strap on a pack. The preceding story is loosely based on the way Kid Curry tells it in his biography. That book, simply titled "Kid Curry" was written by F. Bruce Lamb. The ISBN number is 1-55566-084-3 and is published by Johnson Books. There are other versions of the robbery but I chose this one simply because it is the only version told by a participant in the event. If you read the book, keep in mind that outlaws had a tendency to exaggerate the parts they played.
The Wild Bunch had lots of friends everywhere they went. Montana was no different. Ranchers scattered across the state kept an eye on the posse and sent word back to the outlaws when the posse gave up and went back to Malta. The outlaws divided up the money and went separate ways from the island. They were all headed for Ft. Worth, Texas, but decided it would be safer to travel separately. According to Kid Curry, Sundance went east and took a trail along the Musselshell River toward Miles City. Cassidy headed west. Kid Curry headed south through Wyoming to Rawlins which would have taken him past Hole in the Wall.
Our plan was to
connect Malta, Montana to Hole in the Wall. We were able to cut cross country in the same
general direction as Kid Curry. We reached Hole in the Wall using 467 miles of unpaved
roads and 182 miles of paved roads. To keep us on course, we used the Magellan GPS 4000
and plotted our positions on 1:100,000 USGS maps. When we encountered gates, we used the
most commonly accepted rule of the West. If the road was on the map and the gate was not
locked or posted, we assumed it was open for public use and continued through.
When we left Malta on Tuesday morning, our group consisted of four vehicles and six people. I led the way in the Blazer. Ramblin Rose and Loco Weed took turns driving their Rodeo. Flarestack and Shortstack piloted the Wrangler and Disco brought up the rear in his Discovery.
By noon, we reached the Missouri River which is within the Charles M. Russel National Wildlife Refuge. That portion of the River is dammed and forms the Fort Peck Lake. We found a faint trail to the water's edge and paused for an extended lunch.
By the time we circled the lake to get to the other side, the sun had disappeared over the horizon so we camped on Hanson Flat. Getting around the lake had been exceptionally scenic with numerous views across miles and miles of more miles and miles. The next morning, we had a choice of several routes that would take us south. We chose the one following the banks of the Musselshell River in the general area where Sundance had gone. All of those roads consisted of graded dirt even though some had not been graded in a very long time and were rough. Some hill climbs required 4wheel drive to travel in accordance with the Tread Lightly code of minimal wheel spin. The two-track roads were all closed and most had been washed away over a long period of disuse. Even so, Disco called over the radio that it was time for a break so he could change a flat tire. He took the usual teasing while others claimed he wouldn't have a flat if he used BFGoodrich tires. By the time the teasing was done, the tire was changed and the break was over.
Words can not describe the beautiful scenic views we enjoyed while traveling along a ridge high above the rolling valleys and ravines on both sides of us. That ridge took us to a point one thousand feet above the floor of the valley where the Musselshell River snaked back and forth from side to side through tall grasses on its way to the Missouri River. Occasional ranch houses dotted the valley on the banks of the Musselshell creating a postcard image of a peaceful country lifestyle. How different life must be living so far from a major city that the simple task of getting school supplies for the kids involved a full day of driving.
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We came upon two cowboys headed for one of those ranches and someone commented over the radio that we finally caught up with the Wild Bunch. Ranchers still ride the range on horseback. They still live on the range for days or weeks at a time without returning to the ranch house. They still carry guns and after a few days sleeping on the range, they look like they could ride 100 years back in time and fit in without even being noticed.
The roads we followed took us to the small town of Custer. We set up camp on the banks of the Yellowstone River at a fishing access area and began swatting mosquitoes. We finally decided that every time we killed one, it would instantly transform into a dozen more. Someone suggested that Alien Mosquitoes might make a great episode for X-Files. As the night air cooled off, the mosquitoes faded away.
Thursday morning was designated as free-time. Everyone split up and went separate ways with the instructions to meet in Ft. Smith at noon. The entire gang was anxious to find a place for showers, most of us needed fuel and supplies, and some even wanted to make a quick visit to the Battle of the Big Horn where Custer made his last stand. Disco went looking for a tire to replace the one he ruined the previous day. By the time I rolled out of the sack, everyone else was gone so I took my time getting packed, then headed off to a campground that charged $3 to use the shower room.
The road from Custer to Ft. Smith is paved. Ft. Smith is within the Big Horn Canyon National Recreation Area which is surrounded on three sides by the Crow Indian Reservation. Our plan was to cut across the Indian reservation and cross the state line into Wyoming at the northern edge of the Big Horn National Forest. Our concern was if it was legal to cross the reservation or if some kind of permit was required. After asking a few people, the only answer we got was, "I don't know. I drive across it all the time."
The path we chose took us south along a combination of paved roads and graded dirt roads to a two-track path going up Salt Ridge in a direct line to the Big Horn Mountains. The higher we climbed, the more beautiful the view became. From Salt Ridge, it seemed all of the Crow Indian Reservation was in full view. We passed through several gates. None were locked or posted. At the state line was the last gate with a sign for the Big Horn National Forest informing us we were on Forest Road 111. At that point, the 4Wheeling began. There were huge rocks and boulders to navigate, washouts to negotiate and several fallen trees across the path. Although the road would not be difficult for a modified vehicle, it put stock vehicles to work immediately.
Forest Road 111 took us south on a meandering course through dense forest. We observed numerous herds of deer, lots of squirrels, hawks circling above, and other smaller critters. Along the way, we passed two hunters. They had obviously walked a long way without any luck. The radio came alive with laughter a few miles farther down the road when we passed their camp and a deer was standing next to their tent.
By that time we were back on graded dirt and eventually connected to Highway Alt. 14. We traveled east a few miles on that highway and turned onto another graded dirt road called Forest Road 10. It took us to the top of a high ridge and followed that ridge for many miles offering more scenic views. We watched the sun go down in the west as we rode along that ridge, then found a quiet campsite in the trees a few miles farther down the road.
Friday morning, we followed dirt roads south out of the National Forest, then took a paved road into the town of Ten Sleep. A sign on the store told how the town got its name. Apparently, it was originally an Indian trail camp. Indians measured distance in terms of how many days & nights a journey took. Ten Sleep was located ten nights from their main camp near Casper, Wyoming.
From Ten Sleep, we cut across country on graded dirt roads and connected to the Big Horn Mountain Road. Along the way we paused to watch a cattle roundup in process and teased about catching up to them rustlers. A short distance farther, Disco pulled over with his second flat tire. Before the teasing could begin, he said he was going to get some BFGs as soon as he got home.
Shortly after the tire was changed we connected to the two-track turn off for Hole in the Wall. As we turned on that path, we came across another cowboy standing inside a corral. As we approached, he left his horse behind and stepped out to the road. Someone on the radio commented he was a Wild Bunch lookout. Although, he left his rifle with his horse, he was fully dressed for the part. He reminded me of a John Wayne character. He had a patch over his right eye, a floppy hat that had apparently shielded his head from rain numerous times, full leather chaps and vest, dusty boots that looked like they had seen it all, and a shaggy dog at his side.
"Howdy," he said with a grin exposing missing teeth. "You folks goin' huntin?"
"Naw," I answered. "We're jus' pokin' 'round."
"Goin' to Hole in the Wall, huh?" His grin grew bigger with the knowledge he had guessed it right. "Lotsa folks goin' in there nowadays."
We talked for several minutes. Apparently, he had not seen anyone to talk to for a while and just felt like getting a few things off his chest. He especially did not like the BLM, government officials from any branch, or politicians. Fortunately, he seemed to like us and bid us a good day as we passed through his boss's property and continued toward Poker Creek.
By the time we reached Hole in the Wall Slope, night had claimed the day. I checked my Magellan GPS 4000 and plotted my position on a BLM map showing land ownership to be sure I was on BLM land. Once that was done, we set up camp for the night. According to the Kid Curry book, on his first trip to Hole in the Wall, he drove cattle past that very point and into the Big Horn Mountains along the same general path we had taken.
The next day, we began our journey down Hole in the Wall Slope. We could see the infamous Hole in the Wall long before we reached the private property line west of the historic site. Since the land between us and Hole in the Wall was private property, crossing it would be trespassing. Word is, the local sheriff gets down right mean if he catches someone trespassing. That meant we couldn't go all the way to Hole in the Wall without hiking around the private property between us and the only access up the Red Wall. From where we stopped, the entire area was in full view.
Hole in the Wall is nothing more than a deer trail located at a point where the Red Wall is not vertical. The trail is still very steep. I am told that most horses will not go up or down it until they are specifically trained to do so.
(If you would like to hike to Hole in the Wall, the BLM office listed later can show you how to do that. There is also a horseback tour available from Kaycee, Wyoming.)
We turned around and backtracked to the intersection for Outlaw Cave, then went to Kaycee to connect with Interstate Highway 25. At that point, we split off into different directions and headed home.
Author's note: The BLM office in Buffalo, Wyoming is open to the idea of identifying a potential public access route around private property to Hole in the Wall. The historic site is on public lands but is nearly surrounded by private property. To get the BLM moving, they need to hear from you. Write to them and tell them you support identifying a public access 4x4 trail across BLM land to Hole in the Wall, preferably from Hole in the Wall Slope. Be sure you specify "4x4 trail" or they will think in terms of a foot trail. You can also obtain maps and other information about Outlaw Cave and Hole in the Wall by writing to:
Neil Schiche
Recreation Planner Forester
Bureau of Land Management
189 N. Cedar St.
Buffalo, Wy. 82834
(307)684-5586
Pass Patrol’s legal 10th. birthday was October 17. That is the birthday of the publishing company, not the 4X4 Travel Club. The publishing company was incorporated 10/17/86. Of course, most of you have seen the poem in the book that tells when the club began. “It came alive in ‘85. It’s wheels began to roll. As a group of friends, women and men, formed the Pass Patrol!”
The very first book published by Pass Patrol Outback Publications was simply titled, “Pass Patrol 1986 Trail Booklet.” There were probably no more than one hundred printed and sold. The only copy I have has been hanging on the wall for years. It was sold during the Christmas season of 1996. It was printed on a copier (only on one side of the paper) and stapled without bookends. There were no pictures on the cover and only 19 pictures in the book. As crude as it was, the response was enough to launch Pass Patrol Outback Publications as we know it today.
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