An Old Adventure, Remembered Anew

 

At the end of my 20s, I set out on what for me was quite an adventure.  It was 2001.

I visited my friend Ryan and his wife Christine and their family in Seattle for a weekend. At the end of the weekend, I commuted into the metro area with Ryan on Monday morning, and he dropped me off on a downtown street, where I entered a rental car office, chose my car, put my stuff in the trunk, left the parking structure, made a bee-line for the I-90 east, and headed straight for Montana and Glacier National Park…

I went there in spring but a late snow storm came through. I did not trek out on a full-day’s drive eastward in the middle of winter and and was somehow surprised that it was snowing in Montana!

I passed through the Cascades with some snow around and mostly-frozen lakes. Crossed the grand Columbia River and climbed the other side into the eastern deserts with Spokane in the distance. A quick stop in Ritzville, a small blue-color town that apparently got hit fairly hard by ash from the Mt. St. Helens eruption. I entered Spokane under grey skies and felt its industrial past and its constant struggle to become an economically vibrant city under new circumstances.

As I left Spokane and climbed into mountainous northern Idaho, the destination felt more obtainable, but there was a lot of ground to cover before sundown. Its not like I was traveling across the Sahara, yes, but this was still quite an adequate adventure for me. I love the open road, and there was plenty of pavement in front of me.  Snowstorms in the mountain pass made visibility a little difficult, but not treacherous.  I learned not to change lanes when there was slush on the ground – my first time driving in it.

It was time for an early dinner when I reached St. Regis, Montana, at my exit from I-90. From there, it was a gentle climb up through a forested curvy highway along the Flathead River where deer crossed the highway on blind corners, there were great old railroad bridge crossings partially hidden in low clouds, and then the second wave of snow came. Not enough to cause white-out conditions, but enough to a bit beyond flurries and a ‘fun’ amount of snow.

Making it to the Entrance to this Vast Place

 

Reaching Flathead Lake was the next big promising milestone, and I think the snow had let up by then.  Then, onto the cold and recently-snowed-upon cities of Kalispell and then Whitefish.  Saw the great old railroad station of the Empire Builder (great train name) in Kalispell, then checked in to a nice lodge at the western end of town near signs that told you how far the Canadian crossing was (so, close).

Morning proved the rental car to be parked around snow drifts and covered quite well.  Got it out of the lot and onto the paved but slippery roads.  Traveled into the entrance of Glacier National Park (finally) and had to stop and take a selfie.

 

This could be titled…”So, I Made It There, But…”

 

I don’t recall if web updates were quite available as they are now on park status, roadway closures, etc.  They may well have been.  I certainly take full advantage of those resources now, but I clearly did not back in the day.  After passing the Glacier Park train station, the visitor village, and making my way to the first great geologic feature of the park, McDonald Lake a remnant of glacial activity, was in front of me.  It looks like a place where the Loch Ness monster might live….

 

What I Felt Was the Continental Divide, In the Distance

 

 

This is the farthest I hiked into the park. The trail dropped off into a ravine and a flowing creek. Thought that if any bears were indeed out, they would probably be looking around that creek for something to eat. I turned around, knowing that I needed to make it back to Spokane that night, then head out in the morning and catch a mid-day flight from Seattle back to Los Angeles.

Perhaps I took a different route back to I-90…still not totally clear on that.  I think I took a western route on the way up, and an eastern route on the way back.  Yeah, that’s probably it.  But I returned through the remote Indian Reservation of the same name, almost out of gas on a luckily long downhill slope.  I made it and it immediately refreshed my memory as to how remote you can get quite quickly in the area.  Took a great shot of the visible afternoon moon over one of the local valleys along that route.

Time can certainly add romance to a memory. It was a great trip, but it had its pitfalls of course. I learned how hard it really is to see a glacier in the park named after them, but you can do so if you camp in the interior and make many days of it. Soon those days will be gone, they say. We shall see. There are more trips planned in the future, and maybe they will remain long enough for me to see them one day.