Advertisement
Published: July 26th 2009
July 19th/21st 2009 Keeping track of time Having endured a terrible night - despite its beautiful scenery, Wolf Creek Campground is not a 100 metres from the I-95 with trucks and cars hurtling by at all hours - Nik and I set off for the Big Sky: Montana. We skirted around Moscow before stopping at Panhandlers Pies in Sandpoint for brunch. Hashbrowns, griddle cakes, sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs and endless coffee refills were in order! As were two to-go slices of razzleberry pie to enjoy at lunchtime. We carried on north through Naples and bypassed Moravia to turn right at Bonners Ferry and trundle across the state line into Montana (ta-ra Idaho) and into a new time zone.
Yep, we are now in Mountain Time - one hour ahead of the Pacific Coast and only seven hours behind the U.K. Other than flying between two points in different time zones, my only experience of crossing time zones has been in Russia; but that doesn’t really count as I was on the train which stays on Moscow time (it’s a curious system which I am yet to fully understand). So this was my first real experience of ‘time travel’. Much
to my disappointment there were no thunderbolts, no flashing lights. We just rolled into Troy (obviously not the Turkish version) to find a large clock on Main Street which said 12:34, a whole early later than it had been just a second beforehand! Amazing stuff.
A disappointing brew The highlight of the day was a trip to Lang Creek Brewery, America’s most remote brewery nestled in a valley between Happys Inn and Kalispell in Western Montana. I was terribly excited to find out about the brewery last year as - being located on the edge of a small airfield - it combines two things my Uncle David loves most in the world (other than his wife, of course): beer and planes. It was therefore a shattering disappointment to find, on arrival, that the brewery had closed down last year. On a positive note, Betty Boy had the chance to go crazy off-road (the brewery was seriously remote and it took two attempts down a bumpety gravel track to find it). He sure as a happy boy after that! We also got up close and personal with some ‘Montanese’ cattle before carrying on to Kalispell to buy what is possibly
the last bottles of Lang Creek brew still in circulation. It’s actually a very nice lager.
Other than stopping in at the supermarket and to marvel at our first sight of the Rockies (literally a vast wall of mountain rising up from the plains), there seemed little reason to prolong our visit to Kalispell - a sentiment shared with both the Rough Guide and the Lonely Planet. We pushed on to the quainter ski-resort town of Whitefish. The travel books weren’t lying: it’s a pretty town worth a short visit, if for no other reason than to drop by Mrs Spoonovers ice-cream parlour. Huckleberry ice-cream. Big, big yum. (FYI, huckleberry is a berry native to the Rockies). Having gorged ourselves we drove on to Hungry Horse in search of a campsite near the gateway to the world’s first International Peace Park, the Glacier National Park. After an unexpected but delightful detour to the Hungry Horse Dam, we returned to town to pick up supplies at ‘the last liquor store for 110miles’ and to fill Betty Boy’s tummy. The gas station attendant - Nik has decided to call him ‘Hank’ thanks to his deep, gravely voice - pointed us in
the direction of the nearest campsite at Emery Bay. We nabbed one of the last sites overlooking the reservoir. Although there was no movie, no coffee, no internet, no showers - in fact no running water - there were sigh-inducing views. Coupled with the not so distant sound of the waves lapping on the shore, it was the perfect way to fall asleep.
Adjectival heaven I am now sitting at a campsite near St Mary’s on the eastern side of the Glacier National Park. Sat in my arm chair, bottle of chilled beer (we have a marvellous ice box which we have refused to name) in my hand and am watching the sun set behind one of the many peaks scattered through the park. We spent most of yesterday slowly navigating the hairpin bends of Going-to-the-Sun road, capturing the many valleys and mountains - and mostly importantly the glaciers! - on camera. Today involved a hike up to Iceberg Lake; possibly the prettiest walk I have ever been on. Robert Redford - a famous Montanan - once said of his native state: ‘places that hold the power to feed our souls and inspire our being are few and far
between’. It’s a simple quote but a perfectly apt way to describe the Glacier Park. Describing its sheer beauty is a task which defies me. Lone adjectives will have to suffice: majestic, bewitching, stupendous, magnificent, sheer, jaw-dropping, immense, glorious, snowy (in part!), lush, verdant, awesome, breathtaking, soaring, rocky, jagged, terrifying, awe-inspiring. As the saying goes, a picture says a 1,000 words. The pictures are below (some are mine, some are Nik’s) and do more justice to the park than I ever could with the written word. There may be two pages of photos, hope you see them all....
Campfire delights Before I finish off my beer and start the fire for dinner, I must share some of our campfire culinary delights. Despite the basic amenities - a wood-burning campfire and a small gas stove - Nik and I dine in style. We have appetisers and aperitifs every evening before dinner, followed by a Michelin star main course and, if I can convince Nik she wants them, a couple of s’mores for dessert. For the non-Americans in the group, s’mores are a lovely gooey mess comprising melted chocolate and marshmallows squished between two sweet crackers. You can clearly see why
they appeal to me :-)
All of this is prepared at the same time as swatting away flies, trying to avoid being eaten alive by the ubiquitous mosquitoes and in fear that bears will run out of the woods and try to snatch your dinner right from under your nose. Oh yes, we are in bear country. The park rangers never tire of reminding you that were are sharing this park and every other national park in the area with lots of black, brown and grizzly bears. They clearly delight in explaining the differences between the bears so you can tell them apart when they are running towards you, possibly about to kill you. Grizzlies have a dish-shaped, concave profile with smaller, forward-pointing ears. Blacks bears, on the other hand, have a straight facial profile and sticky-up ears. Thanks for the heads up, Mr Ranger! I’m not sure why they go to the effort, as no matter what kind of bear you are wishing to avoid the advice is always the same: keep all odorous items (from food to water, to toiletries, to all cooking utensils) in the car or a bear storage box unless for immediate use; clap
when you are walking through the countryside to warn bears of your presence; and walk away backwards, avoiding eye contact but talking quietly and waving your arms in slow circles (to make yourself appear bigger) if you happen to come face-to-face with a huggable bear. Clearly don’t try and hug him or her. It will end badly. It’s really not something to laugh about.
What you can laugh about, though, is that I am such a princess. I need two air mattresses and three pillows to fall asleep each night. I even have matching pillow cases and a sheet, which are colour co-ordinated with my sleeping bag (or SB for short!). Can’t really say I’m roughing it!
In remembrance Being the first anniversary of my mom's death, last Monday was never going to be an easy day. Nonetheless, Nik and I had a pleasant day driving across Montana from St. Mary's to Bozeman, our gateway to Yellowstone Park. Nik concentrated on the long roads winding over the vast hills and pastures, and trying not to stare too much at the Rocky Mountains which accompanied us all the way. I stared out the window, and I'm pretty sure I
caught my mom peaking over the edge of one of the solitary clouds floating across the immense blue sky. We always wanted to visit Montana - I became fixated with the place when I was learning my states and state capitals as a child. For some reason Helena, Montana, always stuck in my mind. Anyhow, although worlds apart, we still managed to share this experience.
Talking of remembering, Mr Don something-or-other of Missoula, Montana, forgot last Monday evening that when turning left at a stoplight, the on-coming traffic has priority. Due to Mr Dan's forgetfulness, he crashed into me as I was driving across the intersection. Fortunately we were both going very slowly and thankfully Betty Boy was left with only a few minor abrasions. Nik and I are both fine. It really wasn't dramatic at all, although I haven't shaken that much for a long.
An extra day in the cute college town of Bozeman beckoned so that I could get the car checked over, go to the post office to send my grandma some pictures and Nik could see the new Harry Potter movie. Then we are off to Yellowstone. To see our friend Yogi, of
course!
Advertisement
Tot: 0.193s; Tpl: 0.014s; cc: 10; qc: 56; dbt: 0.0823s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
AMags
non-member comment
Montana
As you say, there aren't enough adjectives to describe it. Thank you so much for sharing it with us. The photos are wonderful, and it's good to see you looking so happy. We thought about you on the 20th - you weren't alone! If this is what Montana is like, why are we all not living there?! As you've probably heard, we are having an English summer - rain with the occasional sunny spell. We're really looking forward to hearing about Yellowstone and the long tail-backs of the cars, camper vans and trailers trying to get into the park. Do take the advice of the rangers seriously. In the Canadian Rockies, people wear bells about the size of golf balls on their belts or back packs to warn the bears of their coming. lots of love.