There’s been a lot of rain and wind across Montana this week, especially in East Glacier National Park. But as Dolly Parton says, if you want the rainbow you have to put up with the rain. Now that we are big time songwriters from Nashville, we quote our good friend Dolly a lot.
On the East side, jagged, looming black mountains tinted red, green and purple with streaks of white glaciers pierce the sky. The wind is constantly blowing, gusting, waning, blustering; threatening to rip our Clam shelter from its stakes and shaking the T@G like a maraca. It whips your hair, takes your hat and saps your energy. We’ve been battling it since we arrived. We can’t remember what Dolly sang about 40 mph winds. No rainbows there.
Six years ago we were battling park closures due to Covid. The Blackfeet Nation shut down the East side of Glacier and the West was overrun with tourists fighting cabin fever. We managed to survive, hosting kids, biking Going to the Sun Road as far as they’d let us, and rafting the Middle Fork of the wild and scenic Flathead River. Back for a do-over, east-side St. Mary’s was open for adventure.
Driving in from Great Falls by way of Cut Bank Ace Hardware, heavy rain tested our patience with another door leak. Technically, it is the same door leak but Montana water soaking the bedding instead of Missouri water. Setting up during intermittent showers we discovered that the Mr. Heater Portable Buddy can make 40 wet degrees bearable AND dry out damp mattresses and sheets. As the rain subsided, Eric installed weatherstripping on the doors and wrapped the mattress in 5 mil plastic contractor bags at its vulnerable point. We are not even all that sure that it is the door seal leaking. But, doing something feels better than having something done to you. Like Teddy says, a soft easy life is not worth living if it impairs the brain and heart and muscle. We’re using all the brain, heart and muscle power we can muster.
Going to the Sun Road was open to the Jackson Glacier Overlook, 7 miles shy of Logan’s Pass, the highest drivable point in the park where we’re told alpine scenery meets abundant wildlife and summer wildflowers. The rangers say it snowed there last night and probably won’t open until July. So we regrouped and did the next best attainable thing – a 2.6 mile roundtrip to Deadwood Falls. An expedition to Logan’s Pass would have to wait another six years.
A small black bear hung by the roadside near the Gunsight Pass trailhead leading dozens of onlookers to draw straws for who would enter first. We looked at our belts and vests and saw no bear spray so we followed the family with teen boys carrying bear spray and every junior ranger gadget needed to fight the bear. We let the boisterous clan proceed down the trail first. Surely any bear would be tired out after an “encountering” with them.
“Is 1.3 driving miles the same as a 1.3 mile decent into a valley through a fresh mud trail?” Sheri asked Eric. The trail map showed a relatively flat out and back but we could feel the elevation change in our toes, knees and hips with flashbacks to Mt. Brown, the hike that inspired an art installation and wounded our bodies in the process. This time the down came first, leaving the up to stretch out the pain the down caused. Thinking back, unfinished Mt. Brown was four thousand feet of vertical. Six years later, 800 feet of vertical kicked our butt. What’s that Dolly song about time not being your friend?
Our philosophy is if you are going to do hard, there should be a big payoff and Deadwood Falls delivered. The crashing and rushing and cascading aquamarine water filled our senses. We rock scrambled, finger dipped and held our breath at the edge. And of course we snapped and selfied cause it’s impossible to totally break the loop. We scratched the second planned hike at Sun Point off our mental to-do list, and moved a sitting drive out to Many Glaciers up.
Selfie pic
Wiped from wind and elevation we took 800mg of Motrin and a long nap in the T@G before checking out the historic Many Glacier hotel at Swiftcurrent Lake. The Swiss chalet version of the Stanley at Estes Park, it definitely had that spooky Steven King vibe. Little girls hung out at the end of long hallways, but we were assured that they were paying guests. Nevertheless, it had old world charm, and felt like a place we could spend a chunk of RMD money when the time comes rather than T@G’ing it. Sitting in an overstuffed leather chair overlooking the lake, sipping a hot toddy, watching the moose dance in the water – that just might be our version of camp life in our 70’s. It was a different conversation than usual for us. In this one we weren’t moving there, we were peace seeking in comfort. Progress?
Back at camp, the wind was down and Mr. Buddy was cold. We cooked up spicy sticky tempeh with cucumber, rice and radish and debated whether we’d someday return at peak season to experience Logan’s Pass. Teddy would not have approved of our vegan meal, but then again, TR died at 60 living on an all moose diet.
