The mood hasn’t changed much this morning. Now rested, this place feels better, but it still has an edge to it that I don’t like. Maybe it’s just that it's still cloudy. We are up and out and on our way to cross the Bitterroot mountain range and make it into Montana. Soon we are climbing a steep road that hugs the sharp edges of the mountains. It twists and turns like a snake writhing around an unfortunate prey. The peaks are sharp and pointed with patches of snow still clinging to the more shadowed areas. Large forests of pine stand quietly against the mountain sides, watching us as we lumber up and over the pass. At the crest of the mountain range we slide easily over the top and into Montana. The van picks up speed, almost as if it is excited to get into “Big Sky Country”, and we descend quickly into the valley. Down below the peaks, we drive through classic Montana views. Farms and ranches hug the foot of large, lumbering mountains covered in pine forests looking like something from an old western movie. Just with more people. And more modern. We get into Missoula, a city that isn’t overly large but still packed with people, and get to work on the few chores that will take up the rest of our day. Showered, fed, and loaded up on groceries, we make our way into the base of some of these impressive mountains. We drive through a rural community filled with horses and modest houses with large yards that border the Lolo National Forest. We turn up a dirt road labeled Black Cat Gulch just as a black cat darts in front of us. That’s gotta be good luck right? We tuck ourselves off the road a touch, surrounded by lean and healthy pines. Only two other cars pass by us as we drift off to sleep.
Up and out of the forest, we make our way to Glacier National Park. Wide valleys and large mountains follow us the whole way. We turn one corner and one range looms larger than the others. Snow capped with sharp peaks, these are formidable mountains. Driving around the beautiful flathead lake, we eventually end up in West Glacier, the southern gateway town into Glacier National Park. Our first stop is at the Apgar Visitors Center and McDonald Lake. The visitor center thoroughly informs us that this is grizzly bear country and that you should always carry bear spray on you. While most of the Rockies and other mountain ranges in the U.S. have black bears, Montana and Yellowstone are the only places where grizzly bears still roam free south of Canada. Up to five feet at the shoulder, nine feet when standing up, and weighing around 600lbs, these creatures know that they are at the top of the food chain and will approach without much worry about you. We drive up and down the lake, taking in the sights from this glacially carved valley. The peaks to our north are tall and snow covered. Sharp, rocky, and formidable, somewhere up there there is a road still covered with snow. The Going to the Sun Road is open for only a couple of short months during late summer when they can finally clear the road of the fifteen plus feet of snow that covers it every winter. While we unfortunately won’t be able to see the breathtaking landscape from up there, we still are amazed by the view below looking up. The road that we are driving on follows the eastern side of the lake. Down here, the conditions are ripe for species usually found in temperate rainforests to thrive. Ancient western hemlock and western red cedar stand tall over moss covered floors. Found only in the Pacific Northwest, this is the easternmost part of their range. The day ends and, exhausted, we go to camp in some more of our beloved National Forest just south of the park by 10 min.
Today is a hiking day. It’s midmorning by the time we get a parking spot. With the Going to the Sun Road closed, and this being such a popular park, they’ve turned one of the campgrounds into a parking lot. We find a place to wedge our van into and are excited to get moving. The air has that slight crisp chill to it still and the sun stays behind a layer of thin clouds. It makes for the perfect hiking conditions. The valley we walk up is cut deep out of the sharp and tall peaks that gaze upon us sternly. Way, way up, among the sheer gray cliffs, small dots of white move about. Mountain goats hop around, clinging effortlessly to a wall of stone. As we slowly ascend among the gray-green and purple stones, a remarkably beautiful composition, we make our way into a hairy forest. Lichen hangs in long, thick, green strands giving the forest a Seussical quality.
We sit silently for a bit, admiring the beauty, feeling small against the majesty of this place. Out in the distance we hear the light rumble of thunder. But it’s off just a little bit. Looking high into the mountain we can see the last remnants of a small avalanche rolling over a precipice, looking like a waterfall, and into the larger snow fields below. I guess it’s not called Avalanche Lake for nothing. Rested and refueled, we get hiking again. A few hikers we’ve encountered along the way have told us of a waterfall near the end of the lake. With energy still aplenty, we go up into the trees, past where the trail ends. We get beyond the lake to where a large snow field lays before us and pause. Neither of us like the idea of finding a weak spot in the snow and dropping down onto a sharp branch. So we meander through the rocks and bush that’s a little higher up, struggling a bit along the way. The waterfall comes crashing down in a beautiful backdrop of snow and ice. The snow field comes all the way up to it so we gingerly pick our way across to the foot of the falls. Limbs of trees stand out here and there as I realize that this is an avalanche field. Looking up I don’t see any hanging snow, but it does make me a bit trepidatious. As we stand directly in front of the cascading water, admiring, I can’t help but to notice that there is no visible river. The water crashes down onto the rocks and then disappears under the snow beneath our feet. I look out to the snow field and I can’t find where the water comes out. Now I’m very uncomfortable with the situation. But while I'm here I might as well take a photo or two. The way back down goes by quickly and we walk the nature trail at the base through old cedars and hemlocks before we make it to the van.
Today is a library day. After the good hike yesterday, we manage to roll out of camp just after noon. We drive into Columbia Falls, not far west of the national park, and find a table in their small but pleasant library and get to work.
It seems that we are not getting enough rest. Another late start this morning as we could not pull ourselves from bed. After our groggy morning however, we decide that on this dreary day a hike is in good order. On this side of the divide, it has been rainy and cloudy all morning. In hopes for maybe less rain, we go to the east side of the park across the divide where the climate is supposed to be much more dry throughout the year. We go over Marias Pass, one of the lowest passes over the Continental Divide at 5,213 feet, and almost as soon as we are over the gentle slope of the divide, the landscape changes. Out in the distance we can see blue skies. The wild variety of trees drops significantly to a more consistent variety of pine. Large marshy areas are covered with tall twiggy bushes, not yet sprouting any leaves. In fact, hardly any leafy organism has any leaves. Large swaths of grass appear, and out on the horizon the forests look to disappear completely giving way to the tawny brown grass of last year and the bright new growth of this one. Glacier National Park’s eastern border sits on the Blackfeet Indian Reservation. We pass through briefly, noting the large lodge with its cut green grass and golf course sitting across a couple of streets from a series of boarded up buildings that look to have once sold local goods. It’s hard to tell if it is the work of COVID or if it suffers as many of the western small towns have since the interstate changed the way we all travel. The mountains are as glorious on this side of the divide as they are on the west side. Tall jagged peaks loom behind slightly shorter rounded ones, all bare of trees and covered in grasses. Our first stop is to see Running Eagle Falls. The falls are named after Pitamakan, a woman of the Blackfeet tribe, who became a great warrior and leader. She took three days to fast and to sit above these falls which the native tribes hold to be sacred. Looking upon the falls I can understand why. They sit facing east so that behind them the snowy jagged top of a mountain rises clear above the dense forest of pine that surrounds us. The waters rush by, clear and icy cold, the stones at the bottom creating a mosaic of colors just like on the western side. The falls are not one but two at this time of year. From the top comes rushing down a torrent of water and underneath, from some unseen water source, out of a cave froths a stream just as powerful. Our continuing search for waterfalls leads us a little further up the mountain and to a new trailhead. The beginning is not very promising as we start out walking over intermittent sheets of snow while maneuvering around a lot of dead fall. We try hard not to slip and the going is slow. Eventually the forest thins out a little and the trees look more healthy. The fallen logs no longer block our path so we trudge through the patches of deep snow, eager to see what we can. Up ahead we can hear the torrent crashing down. As we round the corner to the overlook, we can see the river far below us and ahead, mostly hidden by walls of stone and sheets of snow, is the falls. The view is far and we really can’t see much. Not to be kept from a beautiful view, we keep climbing up the trail to try and find another vantage point. Alas, that was the only view of the waterfall that we could get. But we do reach a point where we get above the trees and have a grand sweeping view of the park. I stand there for a long while, in the cold wind and intermittent rain, taking in the majesty of the roiling clouds hiding most of the peaks. High up on one mountain, mountain goats walk carefully, eating what little plants they find high up on those precarious cliffs. The last stop for the day is at Two Medicine Lake. Small flows of ice are pushed up against the shore by the unrelenting wind but the view is breathtaking as we sit in the van, comfortable and warm. Eventually my desire to capture the beauty of this place wins out and I rush out into the wind to snap a few photos before we leave, scaring a little ground squirrel back into its hidey hole. On the way back to camp, we take our time as the road here is in serious need of repairs. So when we come across a stopped car, we are surprised and slowly creep up behind them. They do a funny dance of putting on their hazards, shifting into reverse, and then driving forward an inch just to roll back several feet. Someone from the passenger seat points into the woods to our right and we inch forward a little more to see what they are looking at. In the tangle of the tree limb and bush branches, we spot a small round black shape rummaging around the forest floor. A bear! I throw us into reverse and park the van into a pullout just behind us. We rush out and start looking for the bear again with camera in hand. It takes a good deal of time to find it again, but far off into the bush the bear lumbers about, not giving us much notice as we are plenty far from it. We spend some time trying to get a better look at it and people join us trying to watch the bear. It eventually tumbles off into the denser pines and we get going to our campsite for the night, pleased with how today turned out.
We drive out on the high plains, following the Rockies south. Everything out here is spaced far apart, the land cut up into various squares of browns and tans as people work a land coming back from the depths of winter. Hills roll gently, giving us expansive views of the Rockies to the west and the plains to the east. Our first stop for the day is in Fairfield to use their library to post a blog update. It is perhaps the smallest library we’ve been in yet. It has two rooms, filled with short brown shelves full of books and one newly added addition with a table and chairs. The kind librarian helps us get settled and after hearing about our trip, talks to us about her son who is traveling the world going from country to country shearing sheep. It seems to be a good way to see the world, meeting locals and getting paid to travel. After we’ve been working for some time, someone comes in and makes a remark about our van to the librarian, wondering if we are in it using the internet. He’s peppy and excited and we can’t see him from our room. We would get up and say hi, but we’re awkward and shy, so we keep to ourselves and continue our quiet study. As they converse, we can’t help but to overhear their conversation as they begin to talk about the home prices in the area. It seems that the ridiculous inflation of home prices has gotten into rural Montana as well. Now, I don’t know how accurate this information is but it sounded like a home that sold for $170,000 ten years ago just sold for $550,000 sight-unseen, no inspection, and with cash. Who does that!? And it’s happening everywhere! Most everyone we’ve talked to thus far has been astounded by the massive increase in housing costs and everyone is wondering who can afford it. At this point I’ve become a little worried about what’s going to happen at the end of this trip. Will there still be a glut of jobs available? Will we be able to afford anything where we want to move? They are questions and worries which I can’t do anything about right now so I try to put them aside to deal with them when it’s time to deal with them. But they hide behind the curtains of my mind, making soft noises every once in a while, reminding me of the uncertainties of the future. The afternoon carries on and we drive a touch west to see some of the land that my father grew up in. A massive butte rises across the street to the south from his childhood home. A wooded stream to the north, more farms and plains to the east, and the distant Rockies to the west. The weather is perfect today. The sun shines and a cool breeze plays on the dry grass, keeping things from getting too warm. It’s a beautiful place. Quiet and out of the way, I wonder at what a childhood must’ve been like here. Or what it would be to raise a family on these lands. It seems at once idyllic and also like a hard place, where winter is long and cold. On our way to camp I mull over these things, thinking about how important place is to who we are. Tonight's campsite is on the Sun River in a little BLM campground. We pull in and enjoy the evening, watching the sun set slowly. It' just us and a fifth wheel that stays empty all afternoon. The air is mild and pleasant, and the bugs are not yet obnoxious in their trills and chirps. A nice place for a quiet night’s rest. It is now midnight. Our neighbors in the fifth wheel turned on their generator at nine o’clock this evening and haven’t turned it off since. My earplugs are no good as the high pitched whine is the perfect tone to drill right through them. Well, enough is enough, I need some sleep. I get up, throw some clothes on and march over to the trailer with a flashlight in hand. I knock on their door. A man pokes his head out and then quickly hides it behind the door again, reminding me of a mouse who is not sure if a cat lurks outside of its hole. I politely say hello and ask if the generator can get turned off. He pokes his head out again and, with a worried expression on his face, informs me apologetically that he’s got a guy in the trailer with sleep apnea who needs to wear a mask at night and that the generator has to stay on all night long. All. Night. Long. Understanding and conflicted about how one should enjoy the outdoors with such a medical condition, I thank him for the information and wish him a good night. Sleep comes eventually, and it is restless. The dawn comes early and a new day begins.
Lily and I are both completely exhausted. Frustrated that people can’t adhere to posted quiet hours, we pack up and get out much later than we had originally planned. The drive is pleasant though and we go through the prettier parts of Montana, cruising across large hills covered with grass and through mountains covered with pines until we reach the city of Helena.
The day ends with us driving into the mountains south of Helena, hunting for a spot to camp through the surprisingly densely populated mountains here. After several busy spots that we didn’t think would work for us, we eventually find a funny pull off, overlooking a valley, and have a pleasant evening.
Bozeman, Montana has one of the best museums on dinosaurs I have ever seen. The Museum of the Rockies is, in part, a working paleontology lab and part of Montana State University. Being a research facility, they cite all of their information that they give on the plaques in front of the displays. And what great information they give. The museum showcases really good descriptions about how dinosaurs may have breathed, healed, been warm-blooded, and why some were able to get so big. It has exhibits on how some dinosaurs age, how they hunted, and how they died. There are two full dinosaur skeletons on display as well, an Allosaurus and a T-Rex. They also have an amazing collection of triceratops skulls, showing how their frills become larger and hollow as they age. Dinosaurs aside, they also have a dedicated space to rotating exhibits. We surprised ourselves by making it to the opening day of “Apsaalooke: Women and Warriors”, a showcase of the Apsaalooke people. Renamed the “Crow” by English speaking settlers, the Apsaalooke people came to the Montana region after Chief No Vitals received a vision instructing the people to find the sacred tobacco plant. After hundreds of miles of traveling across the plains, they found the tobacco plant on Cloud Peak in the Bighorn Mountains. The Apsaalooke then settled in this area, cultivating and caring for the tobacco and the rest of their sacred lands. Following westward expansion, the majority of these lands have been taken from them. And while they may now be confined to the Crow Reservation in Montana, their rich culture continues to thrive today as was showcased by this exhibit. The exhibit highlights the role of women as a cornerstone of their people, made equally and at the same time as men by their creator. Women are as important as the men to the Apsaalooke people, not only sharing many of what we would call traditional household roles, but also being revered decision makers. Some of this was showcased through various examples of their intricate beadwork which adorned everything of value to them. The end of the exhibit showcased several examples of their war shields. These objects hold medicine for the people who carry them and are not to be taken into battle. Rather, these shields stay close to the battlefield, holding the sacred medicine for their warriors. The leather shields are decorated in a wide variety of colors and symbols with adornments such as eagle claws, ferret tails, and other animal skins. It is fascinating to learn more about the traditional spiritual ideas held by the indigenous people of this land and I am glad that they are able to share it with strangers to help preserve and educate people about themselves from their own point of view. Because it is the opening day for the exhibit, the Apsaalooke are holding a reception where they are presenting a few of their traditional dances, including the Crow Hop and the Push Dance, in full regalia. Accompanied by traditional drummers and singers, they hop and dance gracefully and proudly, showing that their culture is still thriving and is still strong, even if their traditional lands have been taken from them. We go out for pizza after the museum. The joint is just meh. Our first pizza is soggy, and the next one is not much better than some frozen pizzas we’ve had. However, the restaurant is inside an arts complex and so we walk around, amazed by the happenstance to find such beautiful art here and a little sad that it’s so late in the day and that all of the galleries are closed. In our wanderings, we stumble upon an open, empty, and dark ballroom. Well, you can’t just let a ballroom sit open and empty. Someone should really be dancing in there. So we took it upon ourselves to fill the room with sound and movement for several happy minutes, relishing in the movement, and missing the before days where this joy could be shared with a larger group. In the rain and growing dark we drive into the national forest south of Bozeman. The road that we navigate over is the worst pothole ridden thing we have driven across yet. It takes us 15 minutes to go half a mile. As soon as it is possible, we pull off the road for bed.
We make it to West Yellowstone today. A gateway town located in southern Montana, it’s the definition of a tourist town. Shops selling all kinds of souvenirs line the main road, most looking like they were taken from the set of some old west film. We’re specifically here for the Grizzly and Wolf Discovery Center. The discovery center is a refuge for grizzly bears and wolves who are no longer able to be in the wild for various reasons. Here, they educate people about them and their importance in a balanced ecosystem. Something that was not a part of land management for most of U.S. history. Once, it was the policy of the U.S. government to kill all predators. Up until about the 1950’s, parks services waged war against bears, mountain lions, and wolves. Wolves were mostly exterminated from the lower 48 and the war was declared a success. Soon after however, people began to notice that the natural lands were suffering. The elk and deer grazed the river beds clean of new tree shoots, leading to less food for the beaver. The beavers built fewer dams and so there were less wetlands for fish and other animals. The trophic cascade ment less biodiversity and less healthy populations of the animals who still lived there. Thankfully, in 1995 Yellowstone began to reintroduce wolves into the park. They thrived and the ecosystem moved back to a healthier and more diverse state. In the discovery center, we watch a large male wolf pace in his enclosure. Large and dark with golden eyes, it seems to be a creature from myth. A small pack restlessly paces as well, waiting for some sort of food or stimulation from their human counterparts. Across from the wolves the grizzly bears push rocks around, looking for food that has been hidden. Suddenly one bear nips the other and they chase one another before facing off. They playfully swat and shove, massive creatures whose bulk belies how quickly they can move. I’m perfectly content only ever seeing one from this side of a fence. In one of the buildings, we watch otters playfully chase one another across their enclosure, diving in and out of the water comfortable in both environments, moving effortlessly between them. When we’ve had our fill of small children and watching the animals, we go to camp and look at the weather. A winter storm is going to hit Eastern Yellowstone tonight and potentially rage through tomorrow. We had originally planned on seeing Yellowstone tomorrow, but if they close the east and south entrance then we are kinda stuck and will be delayed by at least a day on the way to meet with Lily’s family in central Wyoming. Deciding to worry about it tomorrow, we get some sleep.
2 Comments
Danny Hesser
12/15/2022 12:11:03 pm
Some of the most amazing pictures yet!
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Sebastian
12/15/2022 02:46:06 pm
Thank you!
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