Glacial Majesty

Glaciar National Park was like the icing on the cake to Chris and Jay’s summer travels.  Others, who had been to the Park, told them it was one of the most beautiful places in the country.  They were right.  The combination of two, pristine, mountain lakes separated by Continental Divide peaks, carved through the millennia by glacial forces, offered vistas unparalleled in their travels thus far.

Located in the northwest corner of Montana, near the Canadian border, it is part of the northernmost Rocky Mountain Range in the U.S. and encompasses over 1 million acres and over 130 named lakes.  St Mary and McDonald Lakes are the two largest and rest at opposite sides of the Park providing majestic views from all angles.   The tallest peaks have flat faces on multiple sides creating the classic glacial horn appearance similar to the famous Matterhorn in the Swiss/Italian Alps. 

Clements Mountain (left) was shaped by glaciers

and is part of the Continental Divide at Logan Pass.

The Going to the Sun Road bisects the Park and runs east to west across Logan Pass and the Continental Divide.  From the valley floor, it ascends the mountains in one, long, narrow, slightly twisted, incline, passing waterfalls, and sheer drops both above and below the pavement.   The visitors decided to make their first day a photography scouting day and Jay drove the road white knuckled whilst trying not to collide with head-on traffic or go through the low, stone barrier separating them from sheer, multi-thousand foot drops to the lush, green, valley floor.   Meanwhile Chris was oooing and ahhhing at the spectacular mountain scenery and snapping point-and-shoots the entire way to the Pass.

A view west on the Going to the Sun Road.

A Visitor Center welcomes all who brave the ascent and is the transfer point for shuttle bus passengers wishing to go to either side of the Park from whence they came.  Jay vowed he would never drive the road again and Chris agreed that the shuttle would be their main mode of transportation from then on.

The shuttle was convenient, but also limited the time they could be on the trail, especially in the late afternoon when the light was just beginning to “get good” for photography.  After two attempts to visit the east side of the Park, and needing to be at Logan Pass by 7 p.m. for the trip west, they decided future excursions would be on the west side, to the Pass only, and begin early in the morning. 

August Glacier Park daytime temperatures hover in the seventies and eighties but, at 6,600 feet, the 8 a.m. Logan Pass temps dipped into the thirties and forties making the need for warm attire mandatory and explaining why there was snow still clinging to the nearby slopes and meadows.   A one and a half mile long trail leads from the Visitor Center to the gorgeous Hidden Lake viewpoint.  In mid-August about half of the trail was covered with snow and Chris and Jay rolled their eyes at the foot attire of some visitors.  Painted toenails in sexy sandals halted inches from the melting glacier, hesitated, then reversed course.   Slick bottomed sneakers slipped through slush, barely keeping their wearers aloft.  The variety was so laughable that Chris coined a new motto: “Never go to a National Park dressed like you are going to the Mall.”  And yet, many visitors do.

Visitors braving the snow on the Hidden Lake Trail.

The Hidden Lake.  The trail to the lake was closed due to bears.

The Mountain Goat is the official symbol of Glacier National Park and at the Hidden Lake viewpoint they frequently pass within a few yards of onlookers from all over the world.   While Chris was composing photos of the lake, Jay was off with the point-and-shoot snapping shots of the white, mountain nymphs that seemed surprised at the presence of intruders blocking their path down the mountainside. 

This Mountain Goat had yet to shed its winter coat - in August.

Despite the prediction of sun, the weather turned cloudy, windy and cold and the shutter bugs headed back to the shuttle stop with some new acquaintances, Brent and Nancy Garrison.  Nancy is an amateur photographer and she and Chris were sharing secrets when they realized their spouses were no longer nearby but well behind them and engaged in conversation with a tall man wearing a Tilley hat.  While hiking, Jay wears a Tilley hat to protect his face from the sun.  When he spies another on the trails, he comments to the wearer that it is a nice hat.  This sometimes leads to a short conversation where he stops and Chris keeps going.  Such was the case this particular morning except the wearer turned out to be the Superintendent of the Park!  Chris and Nancy doubled back, introductions were made and group photos taken before they continued on.

Left to right: Jay, Chris The Super and Brent.

A young man, with skis strapped to his back, had passed the hikers on their way to the overlook and was headed toward one of the snow-covered slopes.  On their return trip, Chris searched the peaks for his tracks and found them.  He not only had wanted to ski, but to be an artist as he’d carved a caduceus-like spiral down the slope.

It seemed a bit of an effort for the reward.

One of their east side excursions took them to St. Mary Falls, a beautiful, two-tiered fall which spilled frothy white foam into a translucent blue-green pool.  Chris spent a considerable amount of time capturing the scene from different angles as other visitors passed by.  One middle-aged man repeatedly cast glances at Chris and, determining that the man patiently reading a magazine nearby was somehow associated with her, approached Jay to ask about her attire. 

St. Mary Fall.

Over the last year Chris had developed a somewhat unusual collection of camera garb.  She wears an Army combat vest replete with grenade and canteen pouches filled with lenses, adapters and other useful items for photographing in the field.  A Camelbak water reservoir is fastened to the back of the vest and she dons a large-brimmed hat for protection from the sun.   As many double takes as she gets from her gear getup, the item that draws the most inquiries is her black cape. 

Chris likes to check the monitor to evaluate photo compositions and confirm the image is in focus before moving to another location.  When photographing in the sun, it is almost impossible to see what is being displayed on the camera monitor.    She solved the problem by making a cape of a heavy, black, knit fabric.  It is attached to the shoulders of the vest and when she wants to check the monitor, tosses it over her head and camera much like photographers of old did with large format cameras.  It blocks the sun, creating a mini darkroom, so that the monitor is easily viewed. 

Chris with vest and hiking poles.  The cape is rolled up and attached to the

 back of the vest until needed.  It is visible below the vest between the poles.

It was the cape the man was so intrigued by.  He queried Jay about where Chris had gotten it and how could he get one.  To his surprise, Jay explained how she had sewed it herself, by hand.  The discussion led to where she got the vest, what lenses she used and other photo talk before signals from his wife, impatient to get going, terminated the conversation. 

Similar scenarios frequently occur on the trails.  Because Chris unexpectedly stops to photograph, Jay usually walks behind her and sees passer’s by reactions of double takes and stares.  Several people have stopped to talk about her outfit, taken photos of her and new friendships have been forged.  Admittedly it is quite a conversation starter.

After a week of moderately strenuous hikes, Chris and Jay decided they were fit enough for the eleven mile long Highline/Loop Trail.  It starts at the Logan Pass Visitor Center and treks horizontally across a mountainous section of the Continental Divide for seven miles.  The Highline Trail section terminates at the Granite Park Chalet which provides sleeping quarters for hikers that want to experience more than just a day hike.  To get back to civilization one needs to hike downhill four miles to The Loop on the Going to the Sun Road to pick up a shuttle bus or reunite with a vehicle. 

The hikers caught a 7:15 a.m. shuttle to Logan Pass and by 8:30 they were on the shaded, freezing cold trail admiring the frosty patterns on the surrounding plants.  Chris stopped to capture some photos and for the most part, was comfortably warm.  On the other hand, Jay was miserable having underdressed for the day.  The lack of sun and cold temperatures had him pacing back and forth and doing everything he could think of, including covering himself with a poncho, to keep warm.    Several hours and a few miles later, the sun was warming a distant stretch of the trail and Jay pushed ahead to thaw out. 

Jay feeling pretty miserable.

Around every corner the panoramic vistas of the mountains across the valley were breathtaking.   Charcoal peaks rose almost vertically from emerald green valleys and puffs of clouds impaled themselves on the stalwart summits.  Patches of snow clung to hollows in the highest altitudes.  Halfway to the Chalet, McDonald Lake shimmered in the distance like millions of tiny sapphires glinting in the sun as it lay nestled amongst layers of blue-toned ridges. 

McDonald Lake from the Highline Trail.

Along the trail Chris was intrigued by the myriad of colorful rocks that blanketed the surrounding slopes.  From pebbles to boulders there were greens and blues and peaches and cream; sometimes solid and sometimes layered in the same stones.   She stopped to photograph some of the interesting details and found abstract mountains and faces amongst the fractures.

One of the more unusual rocks found on the trail.

Although the wildlife at six thousand feet is sparse, it is grand.  A heard of mature, male Bighorn Sheep blended into the landscape almost imperceptibly.  But the sharp eyes of a fellow hiker caught them and shared the sight with others.  Young ladies hiking in the opposite direction had seen several Grizzly Bears but by the time Chris and Jay caught sight of them, they were well out of photographic range.   They stayed to see two large Grizzlies, one with silver shoulders, and a large cub run up an almost vertical slope to the mountain crest and amble over to the other side.  The observers were in awe of the massive power required of these huge mammals to effect such a feat.

Almost invisible against the rocks, two Bighorn Sheep rest in the sunny warmth.

At 7:20 p.m. the last shuttle bus leaves The Loop parking lot.   The tiring hikers reached the Chalet about 5 p.m., stopped for a brief rest and started down the mountain to their destination four miles below.  Most people might think hiking downhill is easier because of gravity’s assistance but the knees take more of a pounding which is then transferred to the hips and lower back and before long ones entire body is throbbing with pain.  Chris and Jay’s feet and hips started aching at the six mile mark but the lingering 7 o-clock deadline forced them forward.  

The Granite Park Chalet.  How they wished they could have stayed the night there.

In Chris’ opinion, The Loop Trail could have been half the length since they spied The Loop section, of the Going to the Sun Road, about one third of the way down the four mile length.  But then the trail continued away from their destination for what seemed like an eternity as the late afternoon rays of the sun heated the weary hikers beyond a level of comfort.  Another stop to peel off layers helped but by this time every step had become synonymous with misery as inflamed toes and heels rubbed boots continuously.  The backpack and camera vest straps dug into their shoulders and felt as if someone had snuck up on them and attached twenty pound lead weights. And yet the trail continued away from their destination.   

At long last it swung around and their spirits brightened, but only briefly as they realized they had to match and exceed the distance they had traveled while wondering if their tortured toes would hold out.  Every step became more painful than the one before.  Knees, hips, backs and shoulders screamed for relief but, aware of the approaching shuttle deadline, the brains knew they could not rest.

Finally, The Loop road appeared, but a deep ravine separated the exhausted hikers from their journey’s end.  The detour around it involved trekking hundreds of yards away from the road, crossing a footbridge and trudging back on the other side, to – PAVEMENT!!  Dodging traffic Chris and Jay plodded on to the Shuttle Stop and plopped onto the bench at exactly 7:08 p.m.  Their feet were swollen and felt as if they’d walked on hot coals.  Gear was shed, bodies hydrated and sighs and smiles of relief were exchanged.    Now able to laugh at the experience they decided a bathroom break was needed before the long shuttle ride home. 

The human body is an amazing creation.  It can endure torturous physical stress and periods of tremendous endurance, but once it rests, it locks up.  Such was the case with Chris and Jay.  Chris looked like an arthritically crippled, ninety year old as she stood up in stages, first leaning her body forward then pushing off the bench with her arms and struggling upright against the throbbing back pain.  Finally upright, but with a slight hunch, she hobbled on tender feet across the street to her destination.  Ditto on the return trip.  Her kindred spirit endured a similar experience.

The shuttle drive was an opportunity to relax and the bus deposited them where they began their excursion.  Vowing never to exceed a six mile hike again, they elatedly crawled into Big Red and made a bee line home to Sonny, and an evening of popcorn and a movie.

The perfect weather, gorgeous sights and myriad of hiking trails obliged the travelers to extend their two week stay to three from which emerged an unexpected surprise.  David and Sherry Boyd, whom they had met on a Bryce Canyon trail and had admired Chris’ photo vest, was staying at the same Glacier RV Park.   Unfortunately, Sherry had broken her ankle while jogging one morning and was completely laid up.  Chris shared some books to occupy her long days of inactivity and their friends left a few days later while still grappling with the decision to continue their tour or head back to their home in Virginia. 

Early September is a time of celebration for Chris and Jay.  Their anniversary is on the 7^th and Jay’s birthday the 9^th.  On the 8^th, they celebrated with a dinner at the historic Belton Chalet the first Great Northern Railway hotel which was built near the Glacier National Park entrance around 1910.  It was a wonderful finale to some of the best time spent on their Odyssey thus far and the morning of the 9^th Sonny was on the move again but, this time heading south.

Playing in Polson

Fletcher Webster Brown, III, as Jay always calls him, is a Coast Guard, flying days friend of Jay’s.  They also served at Coast Guard headquarters together in the early 1980s and from then until the travelers’ visit in August, 2011 they had gotten together only one other time.  Fletcher moved to Montana in the mid-1990s and built a beautiful, two-story log home on a five-acre plot overlooking the town of Polson.  To the north is the Flathead Lake, to the east, the 9,000 foot high Mission Mountain Range and the rolling, grass covered terrain to the south and west belong to the Flathead Indian Reservation.   When the house was built, Fletcher conveniently created a circular driveway complete with an adjacent, large square parking space for his ATVs and other toys and was a perfect place for Chris and Jay to park Sonny for their week-long stay.

Yan Can Cook is the name of an Asian cooking show that used to air on PBS but the name certainly applied to the culinary skills of Fletcher’s wife, Yan.  The afternoon of the visitors’ arrival she created a lunch of three different vegetable stir-fries served over bowls of rice.  It was all so yummy that Chris and Jay waddled from the table regretting the volume they’d consumed but still craving more of the delicious flavors.  It was a heavy mid-day meal compared to the lightness of their daily fruit smoothie lunches.  The remainder of the week was filled with more tasty experiences and Chris hung out in the kitchen more than once to observe and learn.

Fletcher wasted no time in exposing his guests to the outdoor pleasures of his Montana lifestyle.  The next day everyone piled into his truck and, raft in tow, headed north toward Glacier National Park and a rocky put-in location to launch the vessel on a fork of the Flathead River. 

Yan (left) and Jay (center) stand by while Fletcher prepares the raft for launch.

The day was brilliantly cloudless, windless and warm which compensated for the frigidly cold glacial water.    A brief stop, so Fletcher could give his fly rod a workout, enabled Chris and Jay to step out of the raft and experience exactly how cold the water was.  Smooth, rounded rocks from small pebbles to the size of a man’s hand lined the shallow cove and seldom could the travelers resist seeking out especially unique and beautiful stones to add to their growing collection.  But Chris’ toes could only tolerate the icy liquid a few moments before they numbed and needed thawing from the warmth of the bright orb above.  After a few freeze/thaw cycles, an assortment of rocks was collected, judged worthy or not and retained or discarded, by the time Fletch tired of casting, and they shoved off to complete their lazy, tranquil float.

 

It just doesn’t get much better than this.

In some sections of the river the water was a luminescent aqua green and different than any color, except the waters of the Caribbean Sea, Jay or Chris had ever seen.   They learned that the water contains tiny bits of rock and minerals called “rock flour” which is created by the grinding action of glaciers and suspended in the melted water that cascades into the rivers below.  The rock particles refract the green spectrum of the sun’s light so it appears green.   The glacial action on the surrounding mountains was different than traditional snow melt on other peaks which did not produce the same colorful water.

The beautiful, green glacial water.

 

A few days later Fletcher introduced his guests to ATVing.  He had two of the machines and took everyone to the golden hills of the Reservation on the west side of the Lake where seldom used, dirt, back roads laced across the massive mounds covered in late summer’s grassy harvest. 

The rolling foothills of the Salish Mountains.

 

As a change from hiking, Jay and Chris had a good time on the noisy machines as they bumped along the deserted roads far enough behind Fletcher and Yan to not eat their dust.  They tooled into a wooded hollow, where a road ended, stopped for a quick snack and some target practice.  Unlike the PC/gun fearing Eastern States, from which Chris and Jay came, Montana is very firearm friendly and practicing ones skills in remote locations is common place.   They took turns aiming at the exposed roots of a fallen tree and cheered when a piece broke away.

Chris practicing her firearm skills.

Chris told her host about a low fuel light on her machine and Fletcher realized he should have given the gas tank more than a cursory glance when he topped his up at the gas station in Polson.  They headed back the way they came and, when the gauge dropped below a comfortable level, decided to stop and try to siphon some gas from one machine to the other.   They sacrificed the hose from Chris’ Camelbak and Fletcher’s quart-sized water bottle to complete the task and carried on with almost equal amounts of fuel in each ATV.

Fletcher and Yan.

Up and down more mounds and through chest-high purple and yellow blossoms they determined a wrong turn had been made and backtracking was in order.   Doubling back to the siphoning spot and beyond they found the turn they’d missed then putted through familiar surroundings to the truck and home to another sumptuous meal.

No visit to a Montana resident would be complete without a mountain hike.  Fletcher took everyone, including his two dogs, Zena and Gunner, on a short hike that led to another idyllic mountain lake that, to Jay’s relief, was practically mosquito free thanks to the thousands of huge dragonflies who called the  area home.  The lake fed a stream whose sparkling waters cascaded over and around moss covered rocks littering the route as the water plunged past ancient cedars and delicate woodland flowers to the valley floor.   

Jay and Chris at another beautiful mountain lake.

Precious, streamside, woodland flowers.

The Flathead Indian Reservation is home to the National Bison Range and, with an ample amount of the afternoon remaining, they decided it was worth a visit.  About four hundred bison wander the 29 square miles of rolling hills they call home. 

An antler mound near the Visitor Center.

Visitors primarily view them via the one-way, nineteen mile long Red Sleep Mountain Drive which zigzags up a central mountain and skirts the north side of the Refuge.  Although the landscape was beautiful, it wasn’t until the last couple of miles that they spied the herd.  Small groups of the magnificent beasts clustered together along the banks of the lone river that traversed the northern boundary of the Range and, to the motorists, most were too far away and appeared to be large, brown lumps contrasting against golden grasses. 

One lone bison near the river’s edge.

Chris and Jay had seen their share of the beasts at Yellowstone so, the distance and lack of expected numbers of bison didn’t bother them.  But, the day was not lost of them as they truly enjoyed the drive, viewing the other wildlife on the Range and the fantastic vistas of the valley and mountains which surrounded them. 

A view of the Range from Red Sleep Mountain Drive.

The Fletcher Brown RV Park was, at the sum of $1 per week, one of the least expensive his guests had encountered.  But they figured with low pressure, gravity fed water and the 20 amp house socket, that couldn’t power the RV’s microwave, hindering some of their daily luxuries, it was appropriately priced.  Besides, they were well fed, given free outdoor entertainment and twice treated to massive scoops of delectable ice cream at the local parlor.  All-in-all it was one of the best deals and most enjoyable visits with friends so far!

The Fletcher Brown RV Park.  He owns an Airstream trailer.

At the end of their fun-filled week Glacier National Park beckoned.  Jay paid his dollar and with hugs and fond farewells, they headed up the east side of Flathead Lake to the northernmost destination of their summer.

Moseying Through Montana

When Chris had planned their 2011 travels north she was smart enough to schedule down time after major photography stops and six days at Bozeman, Montana was just what they needed after all the driving at Yellowstone.   The RV Park where they stayed packed the transient guests into shade less, graveled sites like sardines and was sandwiched between the interstate on one side and very active train tracks on the other; complete with a nearby intersection which required passing locomotives to blow the long, short, long air horns at their approach.   Chris and Jay never knew what to expect when they arrived at a new Park and pondered adding “How close are you to train tracks?” to the list of questions they normally ask about price, cell service, and hook-up facilities when making reservations.

When checking into the Park on Friday, July 29^th, they were told about a Sunday morning Farmers’ Market held at the Bozeman Fairgrounds.  Tired of the same old breakfast fare, Chris suggested they go out for a Sunday morning breakfast and attend the Farmers Market thinking it would give them a flavor of the area.

After so many weeks of living close to the earth and hiking Chris decided it was time to get gussied up for their trip into “the city”.  Hair was styled, makeup was applied, “going out” attire was selected and donned and she felt like a person she had known before but had somehow lost track of.   With map in hand, complete with locations of eating establishments graciously noted by the Park owners, the visitors eagerly headed into town for a welcome break from computers and long days of driving. 

They found the college town of Bozeman held more promise than the RV Park.  Late eighteen hundred style vintage brick buildings lined the broad, downtown Main Street echoing its early roots and clean, roomy, sidewalks bordered prosperous shops, offices and cafés.  They hopped out of Big Red and eagerly headed toward the location of several orange dots on the map signifying restaurants serving scrumptious breakfast fare.

They walked a few blocks and didn’t find the one they sought, so they crossed the street and doubled back seeking an alternative option.  Nothing seemed appealing so, thinking they had somehow missed the establishment, they crossed the street again and slowly scanned the storefronts and signs they’d previously passed.  Still no café.  Thinking the establishment had gone out of business, perhaps unbeknownst to the Park owner, they again crossed the street in hopes of finding something that would satisfy their growling tummies. 

After reading the menu in the window of a small coffee shop and not finding what they felt would satisfy their cravings, they turned to continue down the street when a woman, sitting at the establishment’s lone outdoor table with her husband, asked if she could help them find something.  Jay explained their quest and, in an instant, discovered the orange dot on the map was on the wrong block.  The discussion of directions turned into where each party was from, then why each was there, to introductions and exchanging cards with contact information.  Their new friends, Paula Milano and Eric Nielsen, then walked them far enough to see the café’s sign and they vowed to get together before leaving at the end of the week.

The meal at Main Street Over Easy did not disappoint and in fact exceeded Jay and Chris’ expectations of breakfast fare in a small western town.  But the delay in finding it, plus the time spent eating, left only an hour to take in the Farmers’ Market. 

Compared to the Fairgrounds near Annapolis and Baltimore, Bozeman’s was quite small.  And due to the minute percentage of produce stands vs. craft vendors, it seemed to Chris that it should be called a flea market or craft fair rather than a Farmers’ Market; but they found the fresh veggies she wanted and then some.   To Chris it was an opportunity to get some unique Christmas gifts.  To Jay it was about PIE!!  They sought and they scored!

After two weeks without a cell signal hundreds of e-mails needed attention, bills needed to be paid, laundry had to be washed and in general, the travelers enjoyed not needing to drive anywhere except to re-provision their depleted supplies.   Dinner with Paula and Eric was their only commitment and they all enjoyed it thoroughly.

A view of the Madison Mountain Range from Peets Hill/Burke Park in Bozeman.

 

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In May of 2010 Chris corresponded with a former computer client, turned friend, about their plans to tour Montana that year.  (If you’ve been following the blog you know those plans were delayed until 2011.)   Chris’ friend knew a couple that lived in Deer Lodge, MT and suggested that they get together when they passed through the area on the way to Glacier National Park.  Several e-mails later an invitation to visit was extended by the Deer Lodge residents, Irene and Bill Fries (pronounced frees).   Not wanting to be an imposition on people they’d never met, and not knowing how they might get along, Chris arranged to stay only through a weekend.   On Friday, August 5^th Jay maneuvered Sonny onto a level area of their front lawn while trying not to be distracted by the view across the valley of the majestic Flint Creek mountain range and the 10,000 foot Mt. Powell.  Irene and Bill were gracious hosts and the two couples found much in common to discuss and do. 

A breathtakingly beautiful sunset over the Flint Creek Range.

Irene is an avid hiker, but long treks do not agree with Bill’s extremities which keep him home working on improvements or woodworking projects.   Elated that Chris and Jay shared her outdoor interest, the three of them planned to hike the next day.   She took them to a trail that led to the Barker Lakes – one lower, the other upper.   The trail to the lower lake took them through open fields with spectacular views of the surrounding peaks, Lodgepole Pine forests and rock strewn meadows dotted with stunted trees but brimming with wildflowers of every color amongst  the lush, tall, vibrant  green grasses which are nourished by the turbulent lake-fed stream running parallel to the path. 

A patch of wildflowers along the trail.

After several miles they crested a hill and before them lay a mountain paradise.  Gray peaks, dotted with tenacious patches of snow, soared above a deep green skirt of mature pine and fir and wrapped around the lake like a protective, 4,000 foot high horseshoe.  The hikers longed to build a cozy cabin on the shore and live out the rest of their days in quiet, stress-free solitude.      

Chris and Jay at Lower Barker Lake.

Irene had a magazine article that explained how to get to the upper lake and Chris, more than Jay, was eager to help her find it.  The writer explained that trees with patches of bark removed were the trail markers to look for.  The hikers set out on a faint trail around the rim of the lake and turned inland where they thought the directions indicated.  At this point there was no trail but they pressed through rough, dead limbs and over errant rocks and rotting logs trying to find the bare spots on trees that would mark their way.  The directions indicated crossing a 100 foot wide rock slide and that a tree with a bare patch was visible on the other side.  Chris and Irene left Jay, who was tiring of the exercise, and scaled an almost vertical slope littered with boulders the size of a body ball to reach a level area that they thought might lead them to the lake; and maybe even spy one of the bare trail markers.  Nothing was sighted but dark storm clouds above the mountain peaks heading their way. 

Irene descending the rock slide.

Feeling their efforts were in vain, and much to Jay’s relief, they all trekked down to the lake and arrived under the shelter of some dense evergreens just as the heavens opened complete with bolts of lightning and rolling claps of thunder.   It was the Christening of Chris and Jay’s ponchos that they so dutifully carted around with them on every hike and Irene covered up with a beach blanket she kept in her pack.

The sky cleared and they made it back to the car unscathed but disappointed they’d not located the upper lake.  A search on Google maps revealed that it was on the other side of the mountain to the left of the lake and one had to skirt around the base of it to get to the other side.   If three, intelligent people couldn’t locate the elusive body of water, they determined that the article’s directions were misleading and the map grossly inaccurate.

The next day Bill joined them to spend the afternoon at the Grant-Kohrs Ranch National Historic Site located in Deer Lodge.  All that remains of one of the largest Montana cattle ranches is 1,600 acres and 80 historic structures originally used by founder, Johnny Grant, and subsequent owner, Conrad Kohrs, from the 1850s well into the 20^th century.  In the Ranch’s heyday 50,000 head of cattle roamed over 10 million acres of western Montana, Wyoming, Colorado and Canada.   The visitors toured the monstrous home, learned about the role of the chuck wagon on cattle drives and even practiced throwing a lasso around a makeshift wooden horse. 

A Ranch Volunteer, who makes a stiff cup of coffee, stands next to the Chuckwagon.

Bill Fries watches Jay practice his lassoing skills.

The new friends all agreed that their time together was too short and Chris and Jay promised to spend more time when they next passed through the area.  On Monday, August 8^th they departed for a four-day layover at Missoula, a few hours to the northwest.

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Missoula was a much larger town than they had expected but Jay took advantage of the plethora of large, chain stores to purchase some items that he had coveted for some time.  When Chris is photographing he usually takes along a magazine to read and pass the time.  He’d finished so many over the last year that he was running out of the stockpile of back issues he’d accumulated and wanted to begin reading novels, but didn’t want to carry the weight.  An e-reader seemed to be the logical solution and he finally found one that suited his needs and price range in Missoula.  He also yearned for a cell signal booster since the signals, in the remote areas where they camped, often were less than three bars resulting in dropped calls and making internet usage painfully slow.  He was ecstatic to find one and couldn’t wait to get it installed.

Despite the nearby train, the large, grassy sites and profusion of flowers in manicured beds, throughout the RV Park, made Chris and Jay think that it was one of the prettiest in which they had stayed.  They learned that their neighbors, Gerry and Dee Vachon, agreed when they got together one night after dinner.   The spacious lawns between the sites were home to large shade trees and created an inviting location for several hours of casual conversation.  After dusk the temperatures chilled so they moved inside - just before the sprinklers came on.  Gerry and Dee stayed only one night and an Oriental family took the site the next day.  They were still sitting outside at the picnic table after dinner when Chris and Jay heard their surprised but playful screams when the sprinklers unexpectedly doused them.  Smiles creased the listener’s faces. 

Even though they thought the scheduled down time would enable them to complete long put-off projects, it was not the case but they were looking forward to their visit in Polson with Jay’s old Coast Guard buddy, Fletcher Brown and his new wife Yan Zi, whom he had met on a visit to China seven years before.  The drive from Missoula to Polson was another short day and they arrived at Fletcher’s Montana country home, overlooking the thirty mile-long Flathead River and the quaint town of Polson, the afternoon of Friday, August 12^th .

The Nation’s First Park

In January 2011, Chris & Jay decided to stay at Yellowstone National Park for three full weeks, allowing enough time for Chris to adequately photograph the plethora of gorgeous features it offered.  She was able to secure a three week reservation in July, at a campground inside the Park, which she thought was ideal since they wouldn’t have to waste fuel driving in and out each day.  With Yellowstone’s reservations made all others, for the summer, were scheduled before and after their time there.  The Camp Hosting commitment at Bryce Canyon ate into the first week of their reservation but they felt that two weeks was probably enough time to see and photograph most of the Park.  It was not to be.

The Park has 310 miles of paved roads in a figure eight formation.  Speed limits range from 25-45 mph and “bear jams“ frequently occur where droves of visitors park anywhere they can find along the narrow, two lane roads to view not only bear but bison, elk, and scores of other wildlife.  They sometimes block the through lanes and slow or stop moving traffic. 

The stopped vehicles were not the only things slowing traffic.  The bison in Yellowstone are as revered as cows in India and frequently amble down the middle of roads or cross individually and in herds – further slowing traffic.  They can even be found resting on the porch of the Park Headquarters building.

This lone bison, still shedding his winter coat,

 lived near the RV Park where Chris and Jay stayed.

Mid-day sun is usually the worst light in which to take stunning photographs.  Since neither Chris or Jay are early risers, they would usually head out in the early afternoon, find a location to photograph and wait for good light.  The size of the Park is overwhelming and Chris found it difficult to decide on where to go since, with few exceptions, she didn’t know what she would find there, in which direction the site might face for the best light and invariably there were many other places to visit along the way on which the mid-afternoon sun was usually illuminating at an unappealing angle.  She’d take snapshots, make a note as to the best time of day to return and move on in hopes of capturing something more appealing. 

Mountains on the east side of Yellowstone Lake.

They decided to take advantage of the poor light to investigate the camp host opportunities of which there were many.  Over the course of two weeks they visited several campgrounds and learned of three vacant camp host positions but could not penetrate the bureaucratic morass to find out what duties the positions entailed, if they were to be filled that season and what type of site and RV hookups would be available at the host sites. 

A cell signal for phone and internet connection was imperative since the campground where they were staying was void of such a basic necessity to their lifestyle.  During their stay, Chris and Jay had to stop at roadside pull offs to make phone calls and check their e-mail while they traveled around the Park.  One camp host-less campground had a killer cell signal but didn’t appear to have any electrical or water hookups and the ground pit covered by a large plastic lid displaying “SEWER” was not the kind of connection they understood.  Another campground had full hookups but absolutely no cell signal.  The third had everything – hookups, cell signal, close to a Park entrance where they could go to a nearby town for gas and other shopping needs – and one of the three camp host couples had left that day due to a family emergency and wouldn’t be returning.  But the Ranger in charge was either too overworked or didn’t care enough to accept friends of another host to fill the position and Chris and Jay were told he wasn’t receptive to people “dropping in” on him.

During the first week, the would be volunteers spent at least three days locating campgrounds, talking to existing camp hosts, about the duties, the hours they worked and who to contact to apply for the position and got absolutely nowhere.  They were stunned and frustrated at the situation.  It seemed that having willing people on site was not incentive enough to spur the staff into taking action.  After hours of their valuable time and gallons of fuel, Chris and Jay finally decided to give up and on their way out of the Park submitted their applications for the 2012 season.

The infamous Yellowstone Falls.

They turned their attention to seeing the Park and, until an afternoon storm rained them out and ruined the light, spent an entire morning photographing the upper and lower Yellowstone Falls from a variety of vantage points.  Another afternoon they headed for Old Faithful and stayed through three, ninety-minute spaced eruptions to capture the geyser’s brief displays in different light.  Chris wanted to duplicate a stunning image she’d seen on a postcard that showed the erupting geyser next to the setting sun shining through the silhouette of a tree.  She found the tree and with camera on tripod, adjusted the position to keep the setting sun in just the right place between the tree’s branches while she patiently waited for Old Faithful to erupt.   The mound before her showed more and more steam activity and she quietly urged it to “blow” sooner rather than later, but the sun dropped below the distant hills and no more than five minutes later, Old Faithful spurted her last show before night’s black veil descended on the area.

The Old Faithful complex with the famous Lodge to the right,
Old Faithful steaming to the left

and the Visitor Center above it. 

The hours sitting in the truck took its toll on their spirits and derrieres and by the second week Chris and Jay  longed for a day hike where they could get into some natural surroundings and truly experience the beauty of the Park from someplace other than a paved overlook.  They decided to start out with a short, flat terrain hike to a natural bridge.  A Ranger had advised them to carry bear spray and have it readily accessible any time one veered away from the popular paved areas.  Chris and Jay considered the fact that several weeks before a man had been killed by a Mama Grizzly protecting her cubs, and discussed how valuable their own lives were.  They decided they were worth more than the $50 canister of bear strength pepper spray and with it strapped to Jay’s chest, set out for the bridge.  But families with small children that frequented the trail kept up such a constant chatter that they wondered why they’d bothered.

The Natural Bridge

The late spring and excessive snows of the previous winter endowed the area with more moisture than usual.  Beautiful Indian Paintbrush and other wildflowers bloomed along the trail but after pausing for more than a minute the hikers became magnets for the monstrous mosquitoes that hungered for their blood.  The hovering masses seemed to be attracted to DEET laced repellant as if it was pheromone spray.  As much as Chris wanted to photograph the beautiful blossoms, neither she nor Jay could tolerate the barrage and only a brisk pace kept the voracious predators at bay.

Spectacular views of distant mountain ranges they’d seen while driving through Dunraven Pass compelled the hikers to take the trek up Mount Washburn, one of the tallest peaks in the Park.  Thirteen hundred eighty-four vertical feet separated the trailhead from the 10,243 foot summit but the trail was wide with a gradual ascent allowing Chris and Jay to keep up a steady pace despite the weight of camera equipment.  The path was fairly heavily travelled with tourists sporting all manner of footwear from flip flops, to sneakers to sturdy hiking boots.  Some stopped and told them of a herd of Bighorn Sheep they’d spied and others spoke of a bear they’d seen the day before giving the bear spray toting couple a warm, fuzzy feeling that they had the deterrent with them.

This female Bighorn Sheep was less than 10 feet from Chris and Jay

 as they hiked up the mountain.

Despite frequent stops for Chris to photograph, they tired at the 10,000 foot mark due to lack of oxygen, but a man-made structure at the top beckoned them forward and they persisted.  The reward was worth it.  The structure contained a large, south-facing room with tall, glass windows on three sides revealing an unobstructed view of the Absaroka Mountain Range in the east, the Tetons to the south and the Gallatin Range to the west.  With the exception of the Tetons, all that was visible was within the fifty-mile wide Yellowstone Park boundaries – a truly remarkable experience.  Chris peered through a large telescope in the corner of the room and laughed when she sighted a bear jam in Hayden Valley, an area they passed through almost daily, and frequently had road blocks due to the number of wildlife gawking visitors.

The goal.  The building at the summit with snow still present in July.

Jay befriended Ben, an American man and two, young, Belgian women, Caroline and Hanna, who were traveling the Park together and had hiked to the top via another trail on the opposite side of the mountain.  Caroline was wearing a short sundress which was completely inappropriate attire to keep her warm during their descent as the sun would set before they reached their vehicle and the whipping winds at the summit further chilled the air.  Chris loaned her a shirt to help warm her and they decided to all hike to Ben’s car and he would drive the shirt donors to their truck at the other trailhead.  Along the way they passed another herd of Bighorn sheep complete with resident male, a marmot who sounded a loud warning chirp and, fortunately, no bears despite Caroline’s desire to see one before she left the Park.

It was an interesting ride back to the truck with five of them piled into a tiny Honda Civic whose trunk was completely packed full of their camping equipment and personal items and a back seat partially filled with more personal items and hiking gear from the day’s outing.  Caroline sat on Hanna’s lap in the back seat with Chris while Ben and Jay commandeered the two in front.  Contact information was exchanged and Chris and Jay chalked up Belgium as another country from which they had met U. S. travelers.

On the way out of the North entrance to the Park the next day, the Montana bound couple stopped at the Park offices and dropped off their volunteer applications for a 2012 camp host position.  They were fortunate to catch the Volunteer Coordinator in the building and had a more positive conversation than previously.  She at least seemed receptive to them dropping off an application.  They left the area ready to move on and explore the next State and possibly find the ideal home or property, complete with snow-capped, mountain view that would draw them away from lands east.