“POP!”
The truck, already oversized for the highway, crossed the
center line and smashed into our rearview mirror. Only inches had separated us
from a head on collision, so once the shock wore off we were relieved the
sudden impact wasn’t much worse. We crawled a few more miles up to Logan Pass,
found a spot to park in the crowded lot, and then examined the damage.
Again.
The mirror
was shattered but still usable. Since we were driving a borrowed vehicle,
however, I thought about relaying the information back home but then decided
against it. After all, we still had thousands of miles to travel; might as well
just report it all at once. Fortunately, the day quickly turned better.
A long walk up through a mountain meadow is
good for the nerves. Mountain goats and rams watched us without interest for
much of our journey up the boardwalk. After a mile the boardwalk ended and
became a moderate trail, and we followed other hikers all the way to a lookout
framing Hidden Lake shining in the distance. Although this was the end of our
hike, we could see other tired folks slowly crawling along the edge of the
water miles away like happy little beetles.
The journey back down was slow but
more pleasant once we made it back to the boardwalk. By this time some of the
wildlife - a bored, stern-looking ram - had ambled onto the path, munching on
flowers and blocking our way. Although some tourists took the opportunity to
take close-ups, we took a much wider berth.
When we made it back down to the
parking lot, however, we saw even more rams trip-tropping around, scavenging on
the remains of human picnics. Unsurprisingly, the beasts were also marching
toward our truck. After a few quiet moments we watched in horror as they
disappeared, squeezing between our truck and another vehicle, their horns broad
and heavy.
“There’s no way they’re getting
through that without scratching the paint.” JaLana muttered.
“I know.”
Eventually the mob left the parking
lot and we scampered down to check
out the damage. Somehow, though, they’d done it! The rams had squeezed between
our vehicles without scratching the paint. (Or, at least, without scratching
our paint. I didn’t take pains to examine the other vehicle, taking my wins
where I could find them.)
The sun was beginning to set,
though, so we began the crawl back down from Logan’s Pass. Although the path
winds back and forth, the general direction of the road travels west, so we
added a blinding sunset to our list of potential dangers. Once we made it to
the bottom, we all sighed. The kids in two vehicles - sisters and brothers
separated - put on a science-fiction radio drama with the CBs.
Because of the slow-going over the
graveled roadway, it was nearly 10 P.M. by the time we made it back to the
cabin. No matter. Dirk grilled cheeseburgers out on the deck, fully aware that
while on vacation, kitchen hours are relative.
The next morning, Wednesday, August
2nd, we left the cabin and drove along the southern edge of the park, east and
then north up toward the St. Mary entrance. We enjoyed a pit stop at the
Glacier Park Lodge, a rustic hotel built by the Great Northern Railway in the
first decades of the 20th century, then once again entered the park itself.
Soon we arrived at St.Mary Village, a bustling hive of hotels, campgrounds, restaurants
and shops. We strolled through the chalet-style lodge before finding a suitably
moderate hike for the afternoon.
This trek
offered us easy access to a lake for swimming. Water also meant the possibility
of running into a moose, however, which I didn’t consider a selling point.
After fifteen or so minutes of strolling through the woods, we took a detour to
the water to let the kids cool off. Another thirty minutes down the trail led
us to a series of small cataracts safe for careful wading.
A couple dozen hikers rested near
the water - standing or sitting, stepping and trying not to slip. We let the
kids climb as far as they could where they found a cold pool a few feet deep. A
woman screamed when a snake swam past her feet. We kept an eye out for the
creature but it had wisely escaped downstream. After nearly an hour of pause,
we returned to the trail, heading back.
Things went fine for a while, but
then Annaka, tired from the heat and walking, slipped and bloodied her ankle.
Like an actress on cue, however, a woman met us on the trail with an assortment
of first aid options. We cleaned Annaka’s wound while the forest nurse talked
to her in soothing tones. The older kids wanted to swim again in the lake, but
we needed to get Annaka back to civilization. The adolescents stayed with Dirk
and Laurie while JaLana and I began the long walk back to the car, Annaka on my
shoulders, whimpering and singing a warning to any potential bears.
Most of the week had been
unseasonably warm, and so adding her fifty-some pounds to my shoulders while
trudging through the bumpy woods wasn’t easy. We took water breaks every ten or
so minutes until we finally found our way back to the parking lot.
Victory!
I opened the trunk of the van and
started prepping her food while Jalana took her to the restroom. Once she was
fed, JaLana and I found some cold drinks in the nearby gift shop. Soon the rest
of our entourage happily walked out of the woods, eager for ice cream and a
place to sit.
Once we were all hydrated and toweled
off, we found our way out of the park and began the long journey back home.
Because of the construction (and my skittishness about climbing up Logan’s Pass
again and potentially smashing into yet another vehicle) we decided the best
way to get back to the cabin was to backtrack through the Black Feet Indian
Reservation. Here we found out why Montana is often called “Big Sky Country;”
the horizon crept along with us, miles in the distance.
Once we made it back to the cabin,
Dirk again fired up the grill (this time fajitas) while the kids played bags on
the porch followed by another intense match of Texas Hold’em.
On our final full day at the cabin,
Thursday, August 3rd, most of the crew got up early to again visit the little
village of Apgar tucked into the southern edge of Lake McDonald. After
breakfast we all loaded up once more and headed back into the park, this time
to relax near the same river wading spot we’d enjoyed earlier in the week. We
picnicked at Lake MacDonald, giving the kids some more time to swim in the
frigid water before returning to the cabin for the afternoon.
Because we were leaving the next
day, I stayed behind to clean out the back of the truck while the rest of the
group went souvenir shopping down the road.
Hours later, our last morning in
Montana began in the dark. Although we weren’t on a schedule we still hoped to
make it well into North Dakota before nightfall. The Bohnoffs had the cabin for
one more evening and then would be heading down the road for a couple nights in
nearby Kalispell, so while they prepared for one more day in Glacier, we
bustled around trying to get packed and moving.
The sun was barely up when we said
our goodbyes and crept down the gravel road to the highway. A few moments later
found us zipping down Route 2, moving east. We were hardly a few miles,
however, before JaLana asked, “Did you get Annaka’s bread?”
I had not.
A quick call to the Bohnoffs
indicated they were still at the cabin, so we hustled back to retrieve our
precious bread. After a few more sheepish “good byes,” we again made our way to
the highway. As we climbed the short hill leading us back to the highway we
noticed the sun had swept away the morning fog and in its place stood a man.
“Oh my goodness, I think he’s
hurt!”
A few yards off the road, an elderly
man in full motorcycle gear - helmet, boots, leather pants and jacket - barely
stood upright with his arms raised in distress, his terrified dog shivering
nearby.
To Be Concluded…
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