Last Day at Glacier, First Moose

October 20, 2009.

Glacier National Park.

Because it’s so cold and snowy, and Glacier NP is well, a park dedicated to glaciers, the place is fairly deserted this time of year.

A serene breakfast for one

There wasn't enough for two, but we both enjoyed the solitude

I tried to go hiking to take more pictures with the gold stilettos.  The hike was great, although cold and rainy.  Trying to take pictures on slick rocks next to a waterfall wearing stilettos?

Scary!

This is what I actually looked like on the hike:

Look closely, and you'll see the stilettos attached to my belt.

Tomorrow, I leave for Seattle, and will finally, finally see an old friend.

Huckleberry Mountain

October 19, 2009.

Glacier National Park.

Today, I went on a 12 mile hike to the Huckleberry Mountain Lookout.  It was fantastic, because this hike literally just went 6 miles straight into the wilderness.  I crossed mountain ranges.  I couldn’t hear any man-made noises until I crested the second range, and could see and hear roadwork.

The only manmade thing in this picture is me.

The mountains behind me.

Tracking a baby grizzly

Don’t worry.  The tracks were days old, and it was on its own–no sow prints.

I wish I had taken a picture or two of the actual lookout.  It was just a very remote building, probably only really accessed by horseback.  This was the view.

The other side of the mountains

It was exhausting.  Sometimes I wonder if I’m eating enough calories to support this much time spent outside in the cold.  My jeans still mostly fit, so I guess I am.

That night, driving to another part of Glacier, I went over a pass named just for me.  I loved it.

The first Maria sign I've seen.

Going To The Sun

October 18, 2009.

Mile 10,272 – 10,690.  Glacier National Park.

The Entrance. So excited!

I arrive at Glacier National Park on a gloriously beautiful day.  Most of Going To The Sun Road was closed (it’s kinda the main event), but parts of it were open, and more was open if I took my bike.

Along the bike ride.

More great scenery

Kalispell: where many bizarre things happen

October 17, 2009.

Mile 10,025.  Ashley Lake, Kalispell, MT.

I passed the 10,000 mile mark on this trip without noticing.

Montana is beautiful

I am in a bookstore when the cheerleaders call.  They are at homecoming.  They pass the phone around.  They give me the play by play of the game and of the current squad.  I occasionally have to take the phone away from my ear because of the cheering.  My heart fills and overflows just a bit.  I miss them.  I want to be at homecoming, wearing my blue and white, and cheering for my beloved lions.

I do not know what to do.

A couple weeks ago, I was talking a fellow (in Montana).  He was from Hawai’i originally, but moved to Montana because he loved it so much.  He understood the traveling, the seeking.  He had given me this advice, “if you ever don’t know what to do, take off your shoes and stand in the dirt.”

The sun had gone down.  The road was unpaved and slick with mud.  I pulled the car over, cut the engine, stared at the sky.  I pulled off my boots, then my socks.  I rolled up my jeans.  I opened the door.  I stepped out onto the cold mud.  I shut the door.  I stared at the sky, then closed my eyes.

I felt better.

I still didn’t know what to do.

I got back in the car and kept driving.  Ahead of me, there were flashing lights across the road.  An accident.  I hurriedly pulled on my boots, grabbed some gloves, and went to see if I could be of assistance.  It is at least 40 miles to a town big enough to have a hospital.

I approach the group standing around, ask if I can help.  J lost traction on the mud, tires slipped over the bank, then his truck crashed into trees.  The helicopter has come and gone (standard procedure, apparently, when the population is this sparse).  His friends have just finished pulling his truck out of the woods and got it on a flat bed.  Looking at the wreck, I am impressed he survived.

We chat.  They compliment my boots.  I am introduced.  I am hugged.  I am the only person not to grow up around Ashley Lake.  They welcome me.  Everyone stands over 6 ft tall.  T sings a Maria song to me.  This group of 20-somethings invites me back to the house with them.  It is now after midnight.  I accept.

The farm-house is 200 years old.  The coffee is fresh.  There are loaded rifles propped against the door, loaded pistol on a shelf with car keys.  Dogs underfoot, the remains of dinner (lasagna) still on the table.  The boys wrestle like the boys in my family wrestle.  Everyone is blowing off steam and stress.  No one thinks it’s strange for a girl from New York to have suddenly shown up in the middle of the night.  I don’t even think it’s strange.  I feel oddly at home, as if in the childhood home of an old friend.

I learn that most of the cousins are lumberjacks (this is a sprawling, quite extended family).  Girls too.  And they ranch as well.  Someone (unrelated) whispers how many head of cattle and acres of woodland they have.  [This is juicy gossip--for they are telling me exactly how large the family fortune is.]

One of the girls offers me a puppy.  I have been lonely for days.  I am in the midst of family, not my family, but a family.  There is a puppy I can have if I only say yes.  It is 1:30 in the morning.  I have a personal rule that I don’t make decisions after dark.  I turn down the puppy.  (In retrospect, I might have taken it.  It would be nice to have a dog.)

We go to the hospital.  I climb up in their truck.  I am the only one to wear a seat belt.  I stay in the waiting room.  M comes back first.  I stroke his hair.  T arrives.  We all talk gently.  When we leave, someone throws his arm over my shoulders as we walk.  I wrap my arm around his waist.  The familiarity is sudden, but not unwelcome.

It is closer to morning now.  They offer me a bed and breakfast in the morning.  I decline.  They clarify: a bed to myself, in their parents’ home, nothing that even suggests a less than honorable arrangement.  I still decline.

I wake up the next morning next to Ashley Lake.  It is as beautiful and clearly blue as the boys told me it would be.

Sunrise over Ashley Lake

Coastline from my campsite.

This is the lake they love.  They would never leave.  As I once again put the car in gear, I envy that feeling.

Ghost Town

October 16, 2009

Mile 9,793.  Garnet Ghost Town, MT

Last night, well past dark, I came up at least 20 switchbacks.  The night was quiet.  I was miles (and a mountain range) removed from the road.  I pulled over at one point just to stargaze.

It was the quietest night I have ever spent.  Only my very small rustlings disturbed the deep silence.

In the morning, I found that Garnet really is an old mining town, now just abandoned, but too far away from any town or road to have been ransacked.

Morning exploration in the new fallend snow

 

The national park service had been through and nailed up little signs.  There was a weather proof box in which they had maps, so you could know which was the saloon, which the school, which the other saloon, which the honeymoon cabin, and so on.

Thank goodness, because I was the only person around.

Some buildings were boarded up.  Others were open.  The furniture that the miners didn’t take with them was still there.    I got to explore all by myself.  I turned over pots, tried to discern the pattern of faded wallpaper, and used my imagination to put in the missing pieces of what life must have been like here.

A forgotten head and foot board

Homes were small, but had porches. I wouldn't need more.

Pray

October 13-15, 2009.

Mile 9,515.  Pray, MT.

Back at the hot springs.  Back in beautiful Montana.  A place I love.  A place I can relax.  Enough air to breathe.  Enough room to run.  Too many stars to count.

The road to the post office

 

 

Outside Chico. The weather warmed up, and so I decided I didn't need to wear pants. Just long johns and a flannel shirt.

Bike riding in the afternoon

 That night, I camped by the Yellowstone River.  I pulled up in the dark.  I had NPR on the radio.  They were played the best of the week at Lincoln Center.  I got to listen to the NY Philharmonic snuggled down in my sleeping bag, looking up at the stars.  It was the best of both worlds.  Everything I always wanted.

Room to Run

 The next morning, before heading north, I went horseback riding.  I went maybe once or twice as a child.  It’s a lot harder than it looks.

Me and Rueben

Yellowstone, 7th and Final Day

October 13, 2009.

Mile 9,515.

I left Yellowstone, slowly.  You know, the only way I go anywhere.

First Stop: The Continental Divide

That's right, the blue skirt is out of retirement and reinvented as hiking gear

Upper Falls

Lower Falls

Then, I drove to Pray, MT.  Where my mother sent me a care package.  I arrived at the post office at 4:55pm.  They closed at 4.  Sigh.  There’s nothing to be done, but go camping.

Pulling into the campsite, I’m listening to NPR.  They are playing the best of the New York Philharmonic this week.  They play Brahms Violin Concerto in D Major.  NPR brings me the very best of a place I once called home.

Sometimes it’s hard to describe what I’m feeling.  I’m not quite homesick, because I am exactly where I want to be.  I’m not quite lonely, because I meet wonderful people everyday.  I just want to be with people who met me earlier than yesterday, I think.

But as the clouds clear, I watch the stars and listen to Lincoln Center.  This is the very best of both worlds, and I can’t complain.

Yellowstone, Day 5 & 6

October 11-12, 2009

Mile 9,279-9,333.

I awoke refreshed and under snow.  So, headed back to Old Faithful Inn, to drink tea in front of the fire, make friends, and watch small children run around in their pajamas.

Cozy

I headed out to church on slick roads. I saw coyotes, elk, and precious few other cars.

Just getting out of Yellowstone and back in was plenty of adventure for one day.  And because it was cold, and I was lonely, I made reservations for one at the fancy pants restaurant they had.  It was nice.  I was surprised not to be the only person dining alone.  I do miss conversation over meals, but dining alone is one of those things that seems a lot more intimidating than it actually is.

That night, it snowed again.  Even though I was lonely, homesick, and cold, there’s something so magical about snowy nights.

The next day, I was ready to roll.  First, a 6mi hike to Fairy Falls and Imperial Geyser.

Who's that lumberjack?

Pictures are just never as good as being there

Imperial Geyser

200 yards downstream, the river the geyser empties into is still too hot to touch

After the hike, I exploded some of the boardwalks Yellowstone has, so you can get close to hot springs and geysers without damaging them.

Sometimes, it's so cold and the steam's so hot that the view view is obstructed.

Sometimes not.

You know, sometimes a 6mi hike and boardwalk exploration just isn’t enough.  So I headed out again, nearing twilight, on a 3mi hike to Mystic Falls and Old Faithful overlook.

Overlook, Old Faithful Inn

Mystic Falls is so loud, I'm not sure my singing is scaring away the bears

I finally got off the mountain well past sunset.

Yellowstone: Days 4, Homesick

October 10, 2009.

Yellowstone National Park. Mile 9,236.

Old Faithful Inn is beautiful.  I saw it as a child but had forgotten.  Except, not quite.  Old Faithful Inn, per se, may have been forgotten, but a fantastic lodge, with a huge fireplace surrounded by balconies leading off to various rooms?  That place lived on in my imagination for years.  So for me, walking in to Old Faithful Inn was walking into a dream.

The Fireplace

Crow's Nest, where an orchestra used to play before an earthquake made it unsafe

View from the 3rd balcony

And as I was sitting there on the third balcony, my entire family called.  Every year, most of my extended family goes to the Heartslog Festival in Alexandria, PA.  So when they were all gathered, my mama called me and passed the phone around.  I got to talk to everyone.  They told me how proud they were of me, how awesome I was, how much they missed me, made plans for when I got back.  It was wonderful.  And then my mama got back on the phone to say goodbye, and well, I couldn’t help it, I got choked up.

My family is amazing.  I miss them.  I was homesick for all the teasing, the laughter, the hugs and kisses.

My mother is many, many things, and one of those things is impossible to fool when you’re trying to keep tears out of your voice.  And we miss each other.  So she cried too and, I’m sure, was alternately hugged and teased for doing so.

But I was homesick.  I called friends.  I put it up on Twitter.  My friends called me.  Memorably, I fielded a phone call from a good friend while watching Old Faithful erupt in the twilight.

Yellowstone, Day 4

October 10, 2009

Mile 9,203. Yellowstone NP.

When I arrived in Yellowstone (at last) the Ranger at the gate told me it was currently -4′F.  Really cold.  Really snowy.  And, because why not?  Really fun.

Condition of the roads they didn't close

So cold steam is actually rising off the lake

On my first pass through Yellowstone, a Ranger had recommended Storm Point as his favorite hike, even though it was only a couple miles long.  So I pulled on my boots and hat and went hiking.

The views of the lake were great, don’t get me wrong, but it was the view near my feet which surprised me the most.

Grizzly Tracks

As fun as it was to be alone in the snow only a few minutes behind a grizzly, I was ready to head indoors and get warmed up.

Enormous hot fudge sundae in front of a roaring fire

In case you didn’t notice the detail on the fire grate, that is indeed Old Faithful erupting.  If you haven’t seen a geyser erupt, I won’t be able to explain it, and if you have, you already know how cool it is.  Old Faithful is awesome because you can time it yourself and predict the next eruption.  If it erupts for <2.5minutes, the next eruption will be in 65minutes.  >2.5minutes means the next eruption is 90 minutes away.  Same formula the rangers use.

Old Faithful. Old Faithful Inn in the background.

After some quick hikes around the area, seeing more geysers, hot springs and awesomeness, I headed down to explore Old Faithful Inn–a site in itself.