Everyone has a go-to story. These are the stories that are so incredible, everyone needs to hear about them. For us, that go-to story is about our time in Blankenship.
It all started at a campsite in a small-town north of Helena, Montana.
At this point, we had not talked to people (aside from family) for weeks and we were eager to find a campsite where we could interact with others. Our next destination was Glacier National Park, so we decided to search for our next camping spot near the park entrance.
Surprisingly, there were not a lot of campsites to choose from in the area. We wanted to find an area that had cell phone service, easy access to the national park, and bathrooms. Our search began to narrow as our list of needs began to grow.
Finally, after hours of searching, we stumbled upon a place called Blankenship.
At first, we were apprehensive about Blankenship. It had everything we were looking for, but reviews of the campsite expressed concerns about unhappy locals, drunks, and rough roads. We ultimately agreed that the pros outweighed the cons, so we packed up the van and hit the road.
The drive to the campsite took a couple hours, which was well within our daily limit. When we arrived though, the GPS coordinates placed the campsite in the middle of the road so, naturally, we continued driving.
Directly past the place where the GPS took us was an old bridge, which we crossed. From the vantage point of the bridge, Blankenship came into view. It appeared to be an oasis of campervans lining the banks of a river on either side. The banks themselves were covered in stones, forming the most pristine, private beach that was hidden from the roadway by a dense forest. In the two months that we had been on the road, we had never come across anything quite like it.
We quickly turned around and made our way down to the beach to claim a spot by the river.
We decided to camp under the shelter of trees away from the riverbank. We chose this spot because it provided a panoramic view of Blankenship.
Looking out from the van, just behind the river, we could see cascading mountains and steep canyons that were lined with towering pines. Eagles soared above us, coming down from their mountain homes to hunt while fish were jumping from the water.
The river, itself, was teaming with life as fellow vanlifers were swimming in the frigid waters and sunbathing on the beach while locals floated by on rafts and kayaks. The sound of laughter and conversation filled the air as people walked around greeting one another, a welcomed respite from what is otherwise a solitary lifestyle.
As we started to set up camp, we knew that we had stumbled upon something special.
Time in Blankenship passed differently than it had up to this point in our trip. It was almost as if we stood still, outside of time, watching as the world sped on around us.
There was a constant movement. People were coming and going, providing constant entertainment. Our days were spent meeting new travelers from all walks of life, sharing stories and experiences, and touring different travel setups (ranging from converted school busses, RVs, vans, trucks, and cars). As time passed, these people became friends and we started making plans to meet up down the road.
Our nights were spent huddled around communal bonfires, a place where anyone was welcomed. It was not uncommon for perfect strangers to wander up to our fire and join our circle. Each night our fires would grow in size as we would welcome more and more people into our tribe. Conversations would flow freely as we talked about who we were in our former lives and who we wanted to be.
Life was simple and perfectly so.
Before long, Coddy and I received the nickname the “Camp hosts” because of our habit of meandering from campsite to campsite meeting new tenants and inviting them to join us in whatever endeavor we were embarking on.
This played out in some interesting ways, from offering hot coffee on brisk mornings, cooking warm meals to share with new friends, and even helping people dig out if they got their vehicle stuck.
Our goal was to connect with people and offer assistance in any way we could.
One morning, we noticed a U-Haul had ventured too close to the riverbank and managed to get stuck. We watched for a few minutes as the U-Haul tried unsuccessfully to rock itself free of the furrows it dug itself into. We knew we had to help, so we grabbed our toilet trowel and marched over.
When we arrived, we were met by four young men and learned that they were traveling out of the U-Haul because they did not have the means to afford a rental car. Looking into the back of the U-Haul we saw that the guys had constructed a makeshift camp, stringing their hammocks from one side to the other.
In addition to this, they had a few camping essentials strewn about haphazardly.
We had never seen anything like it, but we were impressed with their ingenuity and resolve to travel.
Before long, we were all hard at work. Our goal was to flatten the ground as much as we could and place flat rocks under the tires; hopeful that they would provide enough traction for the U-Haul to move forward. We each would take turns with the trowel while the others would search for large river rocks to place directly under each tire.
Each attempt to move the vehicle resulted in the U-Haul digging further and further into the rock bed.
Finally, a bystander offered to help, lending us a pair of traction boards.
The seven of us worked meticulously, placing the boards under each of the back tires and leveling out the area as best as we could. After we were satisfied, the driver of the U-Haul would push on the gas sending the U-Haul forward. We repeated this process over and over again, until finally, the U-Haul was on solid ground. Cheers erupted,high fives were given, and, within minutes, the young men were gone.
On our fourth day, we decided to explore Glacier National Park. We woke up early, had our coffee, and loaded up the dogs.
Luckily for us, it was a much cooler day. The sky was overcast, and a slight drizzle accompanied us throughout the morning.
We spent the majority of the day in the park, making frequent stops to appreciate the incredible views.
On our way back to our campsite, we decided to visit a section of Blankenship that was perfect for some pictures. The location was a 10-minute walk from our original campsite and allowed uninterrupted views of the mountainous landscape. Throughout our stay, we had observed a number of campervans going in and out of the area without issue, so we opted to drive the van down. What we failed to think about was the impact the rain would have on the sand.
Even though the sand looked just as it did the day before, the rain caused it to swell. As we drove our van over the sand, the sand opened up and swallowed us. Within seconds we were buried up to our bumper with no way out.
We frantically grabbed our trowel and tried our hardest to dig ourselves out, but it was pointless. The more we worked the sand, the deeper we sank.
After digging for what seemed like an eternity, we remembered meeting the man with the traction boards who helped the guys in the U-Haul. I rushed over to his campsite and without hesitation, he came to help. Another camper assisted us by providing and additional trowel.
After a couple attempts of using the traction boards, we learned that they do not work as well in sand as they do on rock.
After consulting each other for a few minutes, we realized that our best chance of freeing the van would be finding a chain, attaching it to the van, and pulling the van out of the sand.
Without hesitation, our friend with the traction boards disappeared and returned with a chain
Coddy and I were hesitant because we knew the bottom of our van was rusty, but we agreed as it was our last option.
Coddy placed the chains under the van and got behind the wheel. The plan was simple, put the van in neutral and let the truck do the work.
As the truck roared to life, our friend gave a thumbs up signaling he was ready. Coddy signaled back and the truck started reversing.
The van began moving with relative ease and within seconds, we were saved – able to return to the safety of our campsite.
We spent a total of seven days at Blankenship. On our last day, we cleaned up the van and worked our way throughout the campsite saying our goodbyes to the friends we had met during our stay. We were not ready to leave Blankenship, but we knew that we had to continue our journey to the coast. It was a bittersweet feeling as we finally drove away, but we knew that all good things must come to an end sooner or later.
We met some incredible people, made some incredible memories, and, for the first time on our trip, we felt a true sense of community.
We will forever be grateful for Blankenship and our little slice of paradise – in a van down by the river.
