Wanderlust

Labor Day Leisure 2007

I wrote the following entry after our 2007 labor day trip to Glacier National Park. It's been sitting in our archives, awaiting posting of a batch of pictures to accompany it. It's kind of sad that it's taken us so long, but better late than never.

So here it is- a slice of our last summer revisited...
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George and I have been wanting to go to Glacier National Park for a long time. And since we are living in Utah, which is within a long, tedious day's drive of said national wonder, we thought we'd seize the opportunity of the labor day holiday to visit the park. We've been planning this trip since the Spring and had equipped ourselves with a portable DVD player recently expressly for this purpose. Yes, I have stooped to video entertainment to brainwash my child into numbing submission. But in truth, this is for his own good and the future of his children and his children's children. Because without it, I think Owen may not have actually SURVIVED the monumental amount of time we spent within the small confines of our Dodge 1500.

We got a later start than we anticipated and kicked off with a big breakfast at the Branding Iron, a local favorite with the best bacon around. The three members of our party were the youngest patrons in the restaurant by more than twenty years and the waitresses fawned over Owen's 1,000 watt smile. George and I joke that traveling with Owen is like being in the company of a rock star. He does everything but sign autographs.

Our drive to Glacier was uneventful and familiar until we got to Montana. I haven't spent much time in Montana until now and for those of you who haven't had the honor of visiting "Big Sky" country, let me enlighten you. If everyone in the "Big Sky" country is looking up, it's only because there's nothing but empty, rolling prairie for miles and miles and still more unimaginable miles. Seriously- why look down? It's certain you won't trip over anything. This is a state that seems almost completely devoid of civilization, where the cows outnumber the humans 3 to 1. As we neared Glacier the roads narrowed and the shoulders disappeared, leaving us poised on the edge of steep drop off or in constant danger of colliding with oncoming traffic. We continued driving on these nerve racking roads for hours and when we neared Glacier, the skies grew hazy with smoke from the nearby wildfires and the sun turned a weird, blood red. I had the uneasy feeling that I was somehow trapped in a rerun of the twilight zone.

Most of Glacier's best campgrounds do not take reservations, so we had arranged to stay Thursday night at a KOA just outside the confines of the park in St. Mary so we could go into the park in the early am and snag a premier campsite. George and I had even been far sighted enough to reserve a cabin, knowing we would be too exhausted to manage pitching a tent and setting up camp in the dark. After Owen nodded off for the evening, George and I took advantage of the wireless access at the KOA, surfing the web on the picnic table outside the tent in the company of a good beer and millions of stars.

Next morning we decided to avoid the hassle of hauling our stuff out for breakfast and had some pancakes and terrible, vile coffee at the KOA. We headed first to Many Glacier, a popular campground located on an alternate route in the heart of the park where glaciers and wildlife were said to be more abundant. We bounced down a potholed dirt road dotted by free range cattle and were able to get a nice little site next to an older couple with a dog that Owen adored and continually called "Lizzie" all weekend, despite the fact that he looked like Miles and his name was really "Cody." Brilliant child.

After setting up the tent and our new, improved, over sized tarp to protect against threatening showers, we packed back into the truck for a tour of the park. Glacier National Park is bowl shaped valley carved from the heart of an imposing, frigid mountain range. Dotted with sharply cold blue and green lakes, the road that winds through the Glacier scenery is called "Road to the Sun." Initially it is a modest and well kept road that climbs into the valley on a steady incline, with Lake McDonald at it's feet mirroring the snowy shadows of its peaks. The terrain becomes distinctly alpine, dotted with fir and punctuated by waterfalls cascading down into the road. Once past Logan Pass, the bowl shaped valley unfolds ahead and the road clings to it's side, snaking along the mountain side and leaving heart stopping views of a fatal descent into a deeply forested and lushly green floor. George and I fight our way through construction and manage to see most of the park on Friday, picnicking at the far end at Sprague Creek.

The night brings several thunderstorms that seem to miraculously miss us with only scattered showers and we awake early to a strong wind that whistles through the valley and seems to bring alternately warm and cool drafts. The skies are heavy with clouds but they move quickly, alternating patches of sun and gray. We decided to stick to our plans to hike the 12 mile stretch of the highline trail, which follows the "going to the sun" on a narrow outcropping several hundred feet above. The trail then cuts into the mountains and climbs up the saddle to the Chateau, a back country lodge nearly 8 miles in. From there it is a steep descent back down to "The Loop," a section of the "going to the sun" road named for it's switchback shape. We have left our car at "The Loop" and taken the shuttle up to Logan Pass, where the trail begins.

Initially, it is cold and windy and the threatening skies don't give us much promise. Owen is bundled in double layers and wrapped in a blanket, perched atop Dad in his carrier as we carefully bouncing along the trail that skirts the cliff side. But after an hour or more, the weather clears and we stop our breakneck pace for lunch in a small glen in one of the forested areas. Just a mile or two further on, we switch Owen and I haul him up one of the steepest stretches. The trail description specifies that the ascent is 200 feet or less, but it feels more like 1,000 by the time we stop climbing. Owen in the meantime has drifted off to sleep and his head bounces in time to the rhythm of our footsteps.

I would swear we've gone 8 or more miles and I keep expecting to round a bend in the trail and find the Chateau, a welcome respite to our weariness. When George finally spots the Chateau in the distance, it's a huge disappointment, perched on a gentle slope a solid mile or more away, glistening in the sun like an elusive jewel. George and I mutter our complaints and press on as the day deepens towards afternoon. When we finally stumble into the Chateau camp, we are surrounded by other travelers, most of whom seem to have reached their destination for the evening. We take a long, lovely break, eat some snack, use the outhouse and then strap Owen back in for the trip down. I carry him most of the way as I have the surer footing of the two of us. The descent takes us down through a burned area from a couple years ago when a large portion of the interior of the park caught fire. There's no place to hide from the glare of the alpine sun and we go for several miles without seeing a soul. My shoulders, pinched painfully by the carrier harness, finally give out and George carries Owen the rest of the way to the Loop. The last half mile or more is grueling- an uphill piece that winds through the forested edge of the road and over a creek. We're thrilled to see the truck and make it back to camp, cursing in frustration behind holiday drivers.

Our next day in the park we decided to have a leisurely breakfast, a veritable feast of sausage, onion and tomato omelettes, accompanied by toast, home fries and bacon. We make the long trek back into the park to take a motor boat ride at Apgar, where Owen is lulled to sleep by the waves and the rough wake of the wind. On the way back to camp we pass a park shuttle tipped on it's side in the woods by the lake, a casualty of the dangerous road conditions. We get back later than we had hoped but still with plenty of time to whip up a tofu stirfry and prepare ourselves for a quick getaway in the morning.

We're hoping to visit our friends, Ken and Holly, who are staying for the week at Flagg Ranch, located between Yellowstone and Teton National Parks, which is probably very convenient for them but incredibly not so for us. We have to retrace the tedious drive through Montana and then detour through Yellowstone on Labor Day itself to reach Flagg Ranch. The drive is estimated as 9 hours and it takes us nearly 10 plus before we arrive. Holly and Ken are not in camp and see we opt to stumble into the restaurant at the lodge and buy the most expensive hamburger and nachos known to man. Everyone in the room is a member of AARP and Owen is nearly a hundred decibels louder than everything within those four walls. I give up trying to control his boisterous tones and all the elderly are smiling congenially at him anyway. I suppose they've put enough time between themselves and parenting to gain a certain nostalgia about it. Ah, the joy of grandparenting.

Ken and Holly make it back to camp and we help them rustle up some diner and after Owen beds down, we enjoy the fire for a bit and head off to bed ourselves. The next day arrives too soon and we make breakfast for the crew and then hurry home to more thunderstorms rolling in, unloading the truck in the fury of the rain and wind and settling down to pizza and wings while the trees bend and shake. It has taken us days to recover- I've only just managed to find my way to the bottom of the piles of laundry and dishes. But as the pictures can attest- it was worth it!

Posted by Kaz at November 2, 2008 12:40 PM