G&C Summer 2017
Blogpost 011
June 30th-July 2nd
“The Great Debacle on the Way to the Sun”
The final morning of our time spent
at Lubrecht research forest was low-key but ran smoothly as pack-up-and-go days
tend to be. Our next stop was Glacier National Park, arguably Montana’s
grandest attraction and one of this country’s most impressive protected landmasses.
Charlotte had initially planned for us to visit the park but scrapped it at the
last minute to accommodate for our travel to the University of Idaho for the
college’s entomology collection. Her mind was changed however when I made
mention of a conversation I’d had earlier with one of my oldest and dearest
friends from home, Zachary, who asked if we were planning on visiting Glacier
whilst we were in Montana. Through a short series of enthusiastic text messages
Zach informed me of how it was, “legitimately the most beautiful place” he’d
ever seen. Upon relaying the message to Charlotte her mind had changed and so
it was to be the next stop of our massive summer road trip.
But
before the wheels of our vehicle could begin their long arduous spinning north
we decided to turn them towards Garnet; where Montana’s best-preserved ghost
town hides. We had all day to reach Glacier and the drive would only take a handful
of hours plus Garnet was just a mere eleven miles away from Lubrecht. So after
a quick fill up at a Sinclair gas station and thirty-minute ride through
winding gravel roads we made it to the abandoned village where miners once made
their living before the industry took off by the seat of its pants. Howbeit, it
was on our arrival to the anything but desolate Garnet parking lot that
Charlotte came to a startling realization, a realization that would kick-start
the greatest debacle of the summer (so far anyway). Upon our arrival Charlotte
became aware of something crucial (like the residents of Garnet long ago) was
no longer among us, her wallet.
Everyone
looses things from time to time and a wallet’s no exception. Lord knows I loose
mine every other day through sheer absent-mindedness but my fiancé never
looses anything of importance, ever. Apart from being overly meticulous with
our belongings having their own specific places she’s a strong follower of her
“rules of logic;” in that an item (or items) should/must be placed in the most
logical location so that in the event one does completely forget where a
thing is they can easily locate it. This is no surprise considering her
scientific background and logic-oriented mind; in fact because of this Charlotte’s
been able to help me find just about all of my lost possessions throughout the
years without even knowing the last place I’d had them. It’s almost a shame she
never considered detective work. Just give her a topographical map of Mount St.
Helens with the weather records of Ariel WA November 24, 1971 and she could
find the bones of DB Cooper. But on this particular day she had absolutely no
idea where her wallet was or could have been. One thing was certain, however,
it was not in the car and the last place she had it was at the Sinclair
but our backtracking to the gas station was in vein. No wallet. Either somebody
lifted it or it’d had been flung into oblivion from the roof of the car (where
Charlotte sometimes placed things at gas stations and rest stops).
We
scoured the roadsides and asked the friendly gas station attendant if anyone
had turned it in but neither was all that helpful. The wallet was gone.
Somebody had taken it.
Mortified and guilt-ridden
Charlotte requested a sudden change of plans which I was more than happy to
accommodate for; we would have to drive into the nearest city to give our
cellphones some service so we could call the various card companies and cancel
them before some shady character maxed them out buying a jet ski or whatever
wallet-snatching Montanans buy these days.
On
our way to Missoula (which was approximately 30 miles away) we joked about how
my fiancé’s luck must have finally ran out for this trip; the spirit of the
fancy cowboy of Elko had come to collect his fifty dollars-worth of fortune. As
we crossed into the city limits and regained our powers of communication with
the outside world a ring came from Charlotte’s phone from an unknown number.
She answered and from the change in her voice and glow in her eyes I could tell
that her luck was anything but depleted. A cyclist had discovered my fiancé’s
black rectangular cardholder abandoned on the side of the road while on his
morning ride and had taken it home to return it to the rightful owner. The
cyclist found Charlotte’s AAA card and called to retrieve her personal number
which was easy to obtain as the Montanan AAA had it on file from our blown-out
tire incident in the week prior. Even in misfortune, Fortuna seems compelled to
shower Chot with the magic of alls-well-that-ends-well. So after a
second unexpected detour to the cyclist’s personal lake house where he, his
wife, and a slew of freaky clown-face painted timber trunks resided we
retrieved the wallet and turned our sights to Glacier.
To get to Glacier National Park
from the outer Missoula area you have to traverse through many shabby small
towns embedded in scenic mountain-river valleys but once you hit the township
of Hungry Horse (which is probably the worst name imaginable for a community)
you begin to see the signs of a thriving tourist-based economy.
Enormous
gift shops line the motorways besides outdoor tourist traps of every variety;
helicopter-tours, oversized monkey house inspired obstacle courses, and
yeti-zip-lining to name a few. But if you have the self-restraint and integrity
to drive past all that you’ll find yourself at the gate of Glacier, which, upon
our arrival had just opened their GOING-TO-THE-SUN, road.
I
had never heard of such a road nor knew of its popularity. The cyclist and his
wife were ecstatic to inform us of it when we told them our plans to spend two
nights and a day in the park and I can understand why; everyone and their
stepchildren seemed to be there for that exact reason. As we pulled up to the
tollbooth-esque barrier between the park and the outside world we were
astonished to find every camp site was full for the evening. Charlotte’s
mishap with her wallet set us back several hours and so the price was camping
in a small price-gouging campground called the Five Lakes Resort just
outside Glacier.
We
just stayed the night, tired from stress and travel and we had a busy day ahead
of us for like a couple of hyperactive ants stumbling upon a colossal caucus we
wanted to be the first ones there so we could explore the whole thing snout-to-tail.
On the morning of the first of July
(the first Saturday of the park’s open season) we made our first gamble of day,
trying to find a camping spot. We made it through the park around nine in the
AM but a tidal wave of nuclear families in their RVs and granola-crunchers in
their open-toed shoes had the same idea. At first we thought we were too late
and would have to go back to the Five Lakes and reset our tent but the
park rangers greeting us inside offered us a sliver of hope; though most of the
Glacier camp sites were full of campers spending the weekend (and longer)
there was no confirmation in the Apgar camp. Apgar being the largest sight in
the park we thought to test Charlotte’s luck again. I can’t remember how many times
we circled the various rivets of Apgar’s suburban-style camp grounds, with
freshly paved roads in-between patches of gravel big enough to house at least
one monster-sized recreational vehicle apiece in-between snippets of
wilderness.
Sure
enough most sights had been reserved for multiple days but luckily we came
across a sweet gaggle of young Canadian hiker-girls who were leaving that day,
graciously offering their sight to us, which we pounced on. And after the brief
setting-up-the-tent interlude that we’ve become all too familiar with, my
fiancé and I were ready to hit the park and take in all it’s serene
resplendence.
Our
plan for the park involved taking the Going-to-the-Sun road because is
stretched across the bulk of Glacier and therefore allow us to cram in as much
natural wonderment into our eye sockets while giving us enough time after to
select one of the many hikes to choose from. Our first stop was along the
shores of lake MacDonald with waters so clear you’d swear it was fake.
Charlotte informed me that it is because the lakes within Glacier are entirely
from snowmelt and lack plankton due to cold temperatures, hence the
otherworldly clarity. Our next stop was of the lower glacial falls that flowed
into MacDonald, the banks were teaming with bloated tourists wearing
confederate flag-print headwear but the falls themselves were altogether
lovely.
Lake McDonald
So Clear!!!
Glacier Falls
We
preceded our drive along the ever-increasing rim of the mountainsides through
man-made tunnels carved into the rocks occasionally dripping (or outright
pouring) with downpour of last winter’s snow that would be melting all summer
long. As our elevation increased so did our fascination with the enormity of
the park’s majesty. Words do little justice as well as the countless pictures
we took but to summarize; the ancientness of Glacier was and is so vast that
measurement of its splendor was and is feeble to human comprehension. In other
words, my friend Zachary was right.
We
drove on through the various world-renowned stops along our Going-to-the-Sun
drive such as The Weeping Wall, massive chunks of glacial snow, and
across mountain peaks so large and profound you could see the faces of the
titanic lords early man had seen projected on their stoic rock faces. It was
clear to us then why this drive was so revered to so many as it was basically a
theme park ride you went about at your own pace and could stop at any point to
sightsee, climb, or have lunch.
About
halfway through our drive we stopped off besides one of Glaciers many ceaseless
waterfalls and ate our lunch under the arched stone bridge where the falls
turned a roaring stream. Soothed by the sounds of rushing water and kept cool
from the hot sun we ate like peaceful riddle-trolls.
After
more driving and photo-snapping we reached the end of the road and promptly
turned the other way to drive back down it and were just as surprised at how
equally eye-opening the trip could be a second time. We wouldn’t stop until the
Loop hike marker and proceeded to climb the six-mile round foot-trip
through beargrass, freshly brunt trees made white by the sun, and small watery
grottos scattered throughout the trails. The views were even better than from
the road and if you listened closely you could hear the waterfalls from miles
away across the vast chasm between mountains. On our way back to the car our
path became one with that of a mother doe searching for her fawn (by Chot’s
presumption). I don’t think I’d ever been that close to a deer before on foot
as it was not startled by our presence in the slightest and had it not been for
our total abundance of sanity we might have tried to pet and/or ride it like a
drunkard in a petting zoo.
The
drive back to camp allowed our muscles to slowly inform our brains of just how
much strain we’d put on them from climbing for hours in the high elevation
which resulted in restless, uncomfortable sleep atop our air-mattress but
nevertheless we were as pleased as contemporary hippies with new Birkenstocks.
Start: Lubrecht Experimental Forest,
MT
End: Glacier National Forest, MT...
With a few detours…
Traveled: ~ 200 miles
Stunning Flowers everywhere!!
Goofballs going for a hike!
Can you see George?!
One of the many glaciers!
Mating beetles :)
Hike #2
An unexpected roadblock...
Love it!!
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