Glacier

Monday, August 13, 2018

We left Courtney and Colin’s home after spending the last 11 days in and around Bozeman, MT. Both sad to go, we turned our attention towards what was ahead of us. Our permit in Glacier didn’t start until the following day and we wanted to make sure to enjoy some of the destinations along the way. We knew that before driving north into smaller, more secluded towns, we should stock up on food and fill our tank with gas. We took our time in the grocery store in Helena, trying to ensure that we were getting enough food to avoid paying park prices, without getting too much and risking it going bad. Over the course of the trip, we have learned a lot about cheap, somewhat nutritionally balanced meals that maintain in varying temperatures and don’t offend our very refined tastebuds. At home, where I spend 8 hours being inactive, I try to be conscious about things like sugars and carbs and eating a lot of leafy greens. On the road, leafy greens are a delicate luxury, that unfortunately don’t live the cooler life well. Carbs and convenient proteins such as: tortillas, bread, canned tuna and beans are what satiate us after a long day of climbing or hiking. I’ve thought a lot about this, because as an individual and as a culture, food can be a sensitive and stressful topic. There are numerous trending diets, lists of foods that we shouldn’t touch, and the ever worshipped six pack. In no way am I saying that living on the road has removed me from these pressures, because it hasn’t. What it has done, is shed light on what I need versus what I crave and reminded me that food is sustenance that I am fortunate enough to enjoy. 

After leaving Helena, we drove to Rattlers Gulch, a climbing area in Drummond, MT. It was dark when we finished and we hadn’t yet decided on a place to spend the night. We looked up places to stay; some were nearby, but out of the way, and the others were in the right direction, but required over an hour of driving. Our options were not ideal and we were both slightly irrational due to hunger and exhaustion. Neither of us wanted to wait an hour to eat dinner, but knew that we should keep heading in the right direction in order to avoid additional driving time the following day. It wasn’t that we had far to go, it was that the shortcut road to the highway was windy and unpaved. As we started driving, I found a closer BLM site, located about halfway down the road. This seemed like a good option until we pulled up. The once populated, now abandoned area was called: “Ghost Town”. Because it is now a historical site and public land, camping is permitted. The combination of the name and eerie looking home that was illuminated by our headlights made us decide to keep driving. We may have been hungry, but were no longer tired after the uneasy feeling that the town gave us both. We drove for another 20 minutes before finding a BLM parking area where another camper was spending the night. We quickly ate some dinner before sleeping soundly, both relieved to have put distance between us and the ghost town. 

We woke up on Tuesday, having slept later than we had hoped and in a bit of a rush to get moving. Our first stop was Morrell Falls, a nice short hike suggested to us by Colin. I ran with Mogli while Tom biked the 2.5 miles to the waterfall. It was the perfect way for all of us to get our energy out and also enjoy the natural scenery. Due to road closures in Glacier Park our drive to the campground was significantly extended. A large fire had started the day before causing, not only area closures, but also obstructed, hazy views of the landscape. The upside to this, is that people tend to cancel their reservations, making the park and trails less crowded. A ranger informed us, upon arriving, that overall the mountains would be more difficult to appreciate, but that certain times of day tended to be more clear than others. Even though it was both of our first time visiting, it was apparent that our visualization was limited to that at close proximity. Both slightly bummed, we had to accept the reality of the situation and make the most of it. After receiving Paulette, one of the camp ranger’s, long-winded, bear talk, we set up camp for the night. 

On Wednesday afternoon, after spending the morning at camp, Tom and I set off on a nearby hike. What would have been an 11 mile hike turned into 12. High bear activity on the shorter route caused a detour that forced us to go the long way around. The hike was pleasant and although listed as “strenuous”, was fairly flat. The far end offered a beautiful view of Grinnell Glacier and the turquoise pool that sits below it. Tom and I are extremely grateful to enjoy these natural phenomenons while they are still around. The sun was setting as we hiked back, the fading light making the smoke less apparent and the valley below us more visible.

Hiking up to Grinnell Glacier the day before had put Tom’s knee out of commission. Walking for long periods of time has been causing the side of it to become inflamed, and therefore uncomfortable to step up or down. Since he wanted to take the day to rest, I decided to go for a long trail run. We are lucky to enjoy each other’s company, but also appreciate and need this time to ourselves. Since dogs aren’t allowed on any of the trails, Mogli stayed to hang out with Tom at camp. I found a mostly flat, well-established trail, on which I saw 3 separate moose. Their close proximity was an incredible experience that also served as a reminder of how careful I needed to be. Being alone and unprotected in bear country, I knew that I needed to be alert and constantly surveying my surroundings. Anytime a rodent rustled a bush, or a bird took flight my attention was grabbed and my heart rate jumped. It’s exciting and at the same time completely terrifying. Hikers became more spread out the further I ran, but fortunately were common enough to keep me feeling safe and less alone. When I returned, I found Tom still at camp where he had read and worked on projects. Both hungry, we made an early dinner and read until it was time to hit the sack. 

John, Tom’s acquaintance from hockey, and his wife Martha arrived from Wisconsin on Friday morning. He had already purchased his camping permit when he became aware that family obligations would keep them coming until a few days later. We picked up the first couple of days that they would miss and were offered to stay and hike with them for the remainder of their vacation. This was a win, win as we were gifted with a place to stay and they were pleased to have our company. John had let us know before arriving that we should be ready at 8am if we wanted to join them on their first day’s hike. Since we had planned to do so, we got up, ate breakfast and prepared our packs before they pulled in at the exact time that they said they would. We discussed several route options before deciding on Swiftcurrent Pass; an 18 mile round-trip hike to a high look out point. This gave us plenty of time to get to know them and gain understanding for their appreciation for the park. They have come every year for the past 15 and have hiked both on and off trail summits. Because of this, they are comfortable to both navigate and put in long days on challenging terrain. Although the four of us enjoyed the trek to the top, there wasn’t much to see when we got there. At that time of day, the smoke was thick and resting in the valley. The nearby, tall peaks were all that we could really make out. We rested at the top for a while, but quickly became chilly with our drying sweat and the cold winds. Shortly after we started back, the clouds broke and the sun came out. Fortunately, our shared passion for the outdoors and involved conversations kept our minds off of the building heat and our tired legs. Mogli had been cooped up in the camper all day, so we made dinner and hung out with him while John and Martha ate at the camp’s restaurant. We all hung out for a bit when they returned before calling it a night. 

On Saturday, Tom went with John and Martha on a shorter hike up to Shang-ri-la Mountain Lake while I went for a trail run. They were gone for a few hours longer than I was, so I took advantage of the time alone; reading in the hammock and washing my dirty clothes in the creek. They returned from there hike in the late afternoon, having had a great time. Each of us had sufficiently worked our bodies and were content using the night to relax. John was kind enough to buy a pack of beer of which we savored while conversing around our site’s picnic table. 

We each woke up on Sunday, still sore from the previous day’s activities. Tom and I planned to use the day to further explore the park. We hadn’t been outside of Many Glaciers, where we were camped and had been hiking, since we arrived. Because John and Martha didn’t intend on doing much other than read and hang around the campsite, they offered to keep Mogli while we were gone. John had suggested an area for us to check out so we took his advice and drove an hour south to Sun Point. There, we went for an easy 6 mile hike along which was a gorge and 3 beautiful waterfalls. Back at the truck, we decided to head into St. Mary’s to grab lunch and pick up some groceries. We stopped to eat at a local joint called Park Cafe. It was small and appeared to be entirely employed by kids barely out of high school. They each showed a moment of panic when “because I got high” BY....... played over the speakers. One of the servers urgently signaled back to the kitchen to skip over the song. We had a good laugh and assumed that it was a personal playlist that was mistakenly unedited. Our meal was deliciously greasy and left us both regretting our over-indulgence. After paying the bill, we headed for the supermarket. A quick survey of it’s few aisles confirmed their inventory to be poor quality and overpriced. With frugality as a top priority, spending 4 dollars on a shriveled piece of produce didn’t seem like our best option. Both slightly frustrated by our false expectations, after Martha warned us of the store’s limited options, we debated plan B: driving 30 minutes to Browning. On one hand, John and Martha were stuck with Mogli with no way of getting ahold of us, but on the other, we needed food. With that, we decided to make the drive, hoping that we could make it quick. When we pulled into the town’s IGA, I ran in to speed shop while Tom filled our tank with gas that was much less expensive than that near the park. My mental list contained the essentials for our usual meals, hiking snacks and a six pack of Coors light (a gift for John). I exited the store to find Tom in the parking lot, feeding a stray dog a serving of Mogli’s food. There were dogs everywhere, but this one in particular won his attention and sympathy. As we packed the necessary items in our cooler an obviously intoxicated man asked us for a ride. It was the opposite direction that we were headed so we politely explained that we didn’t have time. “Since you can’t drive me,” he said, “can I borrow a beer?” Tom and I looked at each other and shrugged, meaning that neither of us saw why not. With a cold beer in hand, he slurred a few words about witnessing Big Foot to which we forced a goodbye and drove away. 

Monday morning was cold and rainy, the perfect opportunity to stay snuggled in our sleeping bags. Eventually peeling them away, we made ourselves breakfast on the stove which warmed the camper. We drank hot coffee while reading and journaling in order to avoid the intermittent drizzle. Around noon the weather cleared up, making an outdoor activity seem more inviting. We knew that John and Martha planned to go for a hike once the rain stopped and we had hoped to go along. Since we assumed that they’d be back shortly, we took Mogli for a quick run before ditching him for the trail. John and Martha had been reading in the lobby of one of the hotels and had gotten back to camp right before we returned from our run. We all packed up and hopped in John’s ‘97 Saturn. He was kind enough to drive us to the far visitor’s center where we hiked to Hidden Lake. Even with an overcast sky and howling winds, it was a beautiful and enjoyable hike. That night, we made and devoured a large pot of peanut noodles in preparation for the next day’s endeavor. 

Our alarm sounded at 5:30am, after a night of unrestful sleep. Tom took Mogli for a quick run on the longboard while I scrambled some eggs and spread peanut butter on toast. John and Martha were up and punctually ready to leave at our set 6am departure time, but unfortunately had to wait for Tom and I to button up our packs and secure Mogli. It was an hour drive to the same visitor’s center we had been the day before, which is where we parked and began our trek. We started on a trail that eventually disappeared leaving us to decipher the best way to go. Standing in a large bowl, John directed us right, hiking up a steep talus field. Once over the ridge, we walked along it up to our first peak: Piegan. We sat for a few moments, taking in the amazing, mountainous view before continuing on. We stepped down the backside of the peak and hiked the long saddle that led to our next destination. At the base of the second peak were larger rocks that required careful scrambling all the way to the top. Before we knew it, we were standing on Polluck, our second peak. Feeling tired from hours of somewhat vigorous traveling, we at some food and rested our legs before moving towards our final ascent. Hoping for the best, but expecting the worst, we found that the last of the three was the most challenging. The intended route was not obvious, requiring us to look thoroughly and gauge the least difficult way up. Multiple sections required confidence in your hand and foot placement due to technical moves. Forcing your mind out of fear is a mental battle that tests you more than the physical aspect. Imagining yourself tumbling off the side of a cliff, although a possible scenario, isn’t a helpful motivator. As a team, we assisted each other in any way we could; offering words of encouragement, a physical hand or pointing out possible ways to step or push up. All of our work, sweat and discomfort paid off as one by one we climbed over the top of Bishop’s Cap, our third and final summit. John and Martha generously treated us to a celebratory dinner at the campground’s restaurant. A pint of beer and satisfied bellies was all it took to realize that we’d be calling it an early night. 

We all did our own thing on Wednesday, avoiding anything that required too much of our sore quads. After spending majority of the day lounging around camp, Tom and I biked to a nearby trailhead to work out our leg’s stagnant lactic acid. We hiked a mile long trail that traveled uphill to Apikuni Falls. As we reached the base of the falls we realized that getting to the top of them required only a short scramble. Looking out over the falls and the valley that stretched beyond them was an amazing site. I did what I could to savor the moment and ignore the uneasy feeling that there was something lurking in the dense forest behind us. As we came back down, there was a guy by himself that was standing and admiring the falls. We started a conversation with him and he ended up walking back to the trailhead with us. We told him about our trip and our lives and he reciprocated. He had been living in San Diego where he moved to from the east coast to learn how to surf. When we told him that we planned to spend some time there to do the same, he offered his number saying that he would try and find out where we could camp near the water. Connecting with people throughout the trip has taught me so much about the kindness that we can so easily give and receive. 

As our 5am alarm sounded, I dreaded leaving my warm cocoon to meet the cold morning air. It was our last day with John and Martha, so Tom and I agreed to complete one final summit before they left for home. Half awake, my sore muscles painfully lowered me off of our lofted bed and soon, out of the camper. Tom was kind enough to drive, following behind John’s Saturn until reaching the trailhead. We each stepped out of our cars, arching our backs and moving our legs in an effort to bring our worn bodies back to life. The hike started on a short, flat path that warmed us up for the impending vertical climb. About a mile and a half in, we cut off of the path onto a less obvious trail that parted thick, tall grass. In single file, we made our way across the field where we reached a bouldered drainage. After making our way up through the gully, we fought a long, tiring battle up a steep hillside with areas of poor traction. Upon reaching the saddle, we were greeted with high winds that had been unknowingly shielded up until that point. We all needed a minute to sit down and eat some food but had to be careful to not let anything get swept away. The next section traversed across a long, steep talus field that tested the agility of our ankles until finding a goat’s trail that provided a flatter surface for us to travel. The final stage required evaluating each potential route to ensure the easiest and safest way to the top. After a while of cairn hunting and scrambling we reached the peak of Going-to-the-sun Mountain. The heavy winds had blown in thick smoke that sat like clouds over what would have been a beautiful view. Instead of taking in the scenery, we sat at the top reveling in our hard earned accomplishment. The long pause also allowed each of us to momentarily forget about still having to backtrack every one of the steps we had just made. On the way down, we did our best to keep good attitudes and focus on anything other than our screaming knees and feet. Conversation was in and out, all of us distracted by the thought of being done and the conscious effort not to go sliding on our butts or twist an ankle. I can’t speak for anyone else, but my legs felt like jello; wobbly and struggling to bear the weight of my body and pack. Once back on easier terrain, our moods brightened and speed quickened. Soon, we were back at our cars thanking each other for the challenging week and amazing memories that would not soon be forgotten. 

Friday was a day to rest and prepare for our journey into Canada. We did our laundry, combed our truck for anything that shouldn’t be brought across the border and allowed our bodies time to recover. Being the frugal nomads that we are, we figured we could save some coin by washing our clothes in the machine and then air drying them on a clothes line. Unfortunately, being cheap didn’t pay off in this situation because not long after each piece of our large load was hung, clouds rolled in and it began to rain. With no where else to put them, we strategically hooked every wet item in various places within the camper. It was a tedious task that resulted in a ridiculous display, all which could have been avoided had we shelled out 6 more dollars. That’s living on the road for ya.