Glacier National Park: Day Three: Swimming With the Fishes

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Entry 19: Glacier National Park Day Three
Thursday, August 5, 2010


Get Out and Boat

I woke around 9 a.m. on my final Glacier National Park morning. The sun was back and bright, and there were slightly fewer folks in the Apgar Campground. I worked on the blog and decamped. It was quite a pleasure to have stayed in the same spot for 2 consecutive nights, and I slogged through the 2-hour packing up time.
Reorganizing the truck, Sophie the dog and I first drove over to Lake McDonald, as the slight wind today would offer a boat/canoe ride onto Lake McDonald (it was too windy yesterday). Canoes are $18 an hour, but they also offered something new for me—a 7 person outdoor-motored boat, at $25 an hour. Having never captained my own boat, I chose the latter.
I chatted at length with both the young “summer worker” boat staff. The college student woman had grown up in Butte, home to Evel Knievel, and was studying nursing. She gave me my boat lesson (only starts in neutral, watch for random canoers/other boaters, etc.). The 25-year-old male worker was from my own hometown, Cleveland, had gone to college out here and, graduating with a degree environmental studies, spent time bumming around Glacier, enjoying remote camping with his girlfriend. Unlike me, he had hopes that mankind can stop/slow down the various methods of destroying the planet. He also was kind enough to let me charge the computer and phone while driving the motorboat.

The water offered an exciting and interesting way to see the mountain views. Moving quickly through the water, boat “flattening out” when I twisted the gas motorcycle-knob grip full out, I watched the quaint dock area grow smaller and smaller. Sophie the dog, who does excellently in canoes, including the new-to-both-of-us Boundary Waters canoe ride, was terrified during the ride, as the boat’s metal floor sounded and vibrated as the craft bounced over waves, slapping its surface like a ruler on a Catholic school kid’s knuckles. She leaned into my right leg, and I held onto her collar, for fear that she’d bail from the boat.
I shut the engine off a few times and took pictures. Approaching mile 6 of the eight-mile lake, I turned it around, again passing a huge section of dead forest, its trees victim to a beetle.
Thoroughly enjoying this “realistic nature interaction,” i.e. traveling in a boat for convenience, although my crew only consisted of only a canine, we successfully slowly steered the boat back into the small dock.

The two young boat staffers deserved their small tips, having charged me only for 1 hour, as opposed to the actual 1.5-hour trip. Another “natural bucket-list” item successfully checked off.

Swim Time

After being on the water, it was time to be in the water. A short walk from the dock led Sophie the dog and I past 3 other picnicking and reading parties to a secluded area: just a log, forest, a stone beach, and a glacier lake, it’s clear, deep-blue color gently rippling in the breeze. I changed into my swim shorts, donned my eye goggles, which I had taken on a whim, and hit the water. Involuntary hoots and barks from the cold water reached Sophie the dog, who was bounding around in the water, happy to be back on terra rocka. The water was cold, so I would stay in a couple of minutes, then photograph interesting rocks on the shore while the warm sun dried me out and heated me up.

A leisurely hour told me that the day was moving on, and there were still two things to do on the list before leaving Glacier and driving as far as I could stand to another overnight camp in the National Forest.

Next stop was the Hemlock forest. Since it was in the mid 60s and cooler in the shade, I left Sophie the dog in the truck while I went on my first solo hike of the trip. For about 30 minutes, I walked my first Glacier Park trail, marveling at the 20+ feet-in-diameter trees. These trees are 100s of years old, and feature a northwestern-area phenomenon: the “host tree.” When the behemoths topple, moss, trees, and other plants take route in a process that might take 100 years itself to occur (the eventual rotting of this huge, compact tree). I only saw 3 people on the trail and spoke with no one.


A Natural Epiphany

About 3 miles further, past Avalanche Campground and approximately 15 miles north of Apgar Village, one of the many turnouts on McDonald Creek offer immediate access to the rushing waters of the river. Unlike yesterdays section of the river, which was wide and full of smaller rocks (i.e. no bigger than me, but much bigger than Sophie the dog), this section flowed through a series of huge, tight rock faces and boulders. The clear water revealed that there were a number of rocks below the surface, but I couldn’t tell how deep the water was or if the rocks’ tops were close to the surface.

I had the idea to jump into the water at an easy spot and float down 50 yards to a bend (and just before a 4-foot waterfall. Solution: Eye goggles.

I placed Sophie back in the truck, as to not have to worry about her on the shore or jumping into the water, which would not be good at all. Then, I excitedly put on my river shoes, left the camera, truck keys, and T-shirt on a rock, and stepped into the really, really cold water (even though the 4 p.m. sun was glaring down).
The scene, through goggles, was mind-blowing! Every square inch of the crystal-clear river was brightly lit, making me feel as if I were floating in an aquarium. My views from underwater allowed me to see 100 feet down the creek, noting that there was plenty of clearance to float head-first and face-down the creek. 10-foot-tall boulders were scatted throughout the 20-foot deep bowls.

As I stepped from the safety of the shore, I assumed the head-down float, marveling at the scenery. A small V-shaped grove floated me over another huge bowl, carved by millions of years of year-round swirling and rushing water. I saw 4 trout, swimming around through the currents, munching on swirling pieces of something evidently edible to them.
I easily swam over to the get out point, heart pumping in the exquisite surprise offered by this random and accidental natural experience.
Oh yeah, I had to do it again, taking the 5 minute walk back up-river to my start in point. I totally surprised Sophie by passing the vehicle from the opposite direction that she had seen me walk to.
A total of 3 wonderful floats led me to stick my head (only) into the area very close to the waterfall (something I definitely want to get sucked into). I viewed the waterfall from behind the falls themselves, an experience that I had only ever had before at Niagara Falls (and that was a mass human-produced view, whereas this was totally random and natural). Also, a foot-long salmon was at this bowl’s wall, eating bits of small (possibly) plants.

As I mentioned, this experience blew my mind, and it served as a perfect ending to my 48-hour stay in Glacier National Park. My only regret was that I did not have an underwater camera to capture this glorious moment, but the views were so different than anything that I had ever seen even during scuba diving trips, that it is burned into my memory and will no doubt be recalled when in the middle of a stressful situation at work.

Oh, and comparing this Park to Yellowstone, I would have to say that the river experience moved Glacier to a very-close second. If an overnight backpacking hike would’ve been allowed (no dogs in on any trail or in any backcountries), it very well might’ve overtaken my favorite caldera 300 miles to the south.

Calmly drifting back to the truck, I noted that I was shivering, a result of the time spent in the cold water (I did not experience the chill while in the water, as I was so blown away by what I was seeing). I turned the heater on in the truck, rolled down the windows, and bid Glacier National Park in Northwestern Montana for our next big destination: North Cascades National Park.

Getting a late start hitting the road, and being in such a relaxed state, thoroughly Glacierized, I weighed, an eventually accepted the notion of, getting a hotel room.

Hello Motel 6 in Kalispell, Montana.

Thanks for reading the blog, and I appreciate the comments and feedback…
Chicago Dave and Sophie the dog

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