Our Adventure Out West Last Summer, Part Three

 

“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…