Saturday, September 22, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
A Walk In the Park, Part One
At first, it was pretty easy to coerce McAdams into doing my bidding. "Yeah, today is a great day for a hike," I would coo. "But it is kind of hot and dusty. Let's swing by Lake McDonald for a little dip first. Say, why don't I treat us to a six-pack of Huckleberry brew?" From time to time I would insist upon a huge, starchy lunch that would make us logy, or ask to be driven up the Road to the Sun just one more time. Once I feigned diarrhea. I'm not proud, but you do what you have to in order to survive in the wild.
Finally McAdams said it was now or never. She chose a hike she knew that was 14 miles; seven miles in, seven out. We'd have to leave early and pack a lunch. We were in a part of the park called Many Glacier, and we would be hiking the Grinnell Complex. That's right. Not just a small mountain, a hillock perhaps, but a whole complex of mountains. In the backwoods. Where no one could hear you scream. I pictured a scene from my future: two foolish and intrepid hikers make it to one of the lakes on Mount Grinnell and stop to skinny dip in the crystal clear waters. It's cold, and they cavort and then cling together to stay warm, talking and laughing, giddy on the glory of the nature that surrounds them. Something touches the foot of the lady hiker, and, still giggling, she reaches down to see what has floated downstream to gently nudge her. It's my femur, bleached white and worn smooth by the lake, but still bearing the evidence of what must have been a valiant struggle; the teeth and claw marks of both a mountain lion and a grizz, etched into the bone. Nothing kills a mood like a human carcass, campers. Take heed: this could be you!
McAdams has stories of when she has come into contact with bears. She once narrowly escaped with her life, when, running headlong down a steep hill, she came unexpectedly upon a mama grizzly bent over in the woods, eating some berries, maybe taking a poo. Bears really do shit in the woods, ya know. She tells this tale with seriousness, but also with a sense of thrill and reverence that leads me to infer that she would not be too horrified to see another bear; indeed, she would welcome the sighting. She spoke of the things tourists do in order to warn bears of a human presence. Bear spray is popular. It's a cayenne pepper concoction that McAdams says is good only to turn the tourist into a tasty salsa treat. Bells that one ties onto ones shoes to make noise she dubbed "dinner bells." "Nope," she said, "the only way to be safe is to yell 'Yo, Bear' at regular intervals. They pretty much leave you alone if you do that."
I was not comforted.
We went to the little store to buy our lunch. I tried to choose foods that smelled like plastic or pesticide. We filled up on water that came from a tube stuck in a limestone mountain. I wasn't sure if it was potable - a sign said I'd have to drink at my own risk - but since my chances of surviving in the backwoods were minimal, I decided to throw caution to the wind.
We sat down to a hearty breakfast, though, truly, I was feeling a bit nauseous. The nineteen year old kid who was our waiter in Montana this summer, but a California surfer kid the rest of the year started to chat McAdams up.
"Where are you guys headed this morning? It's an awesome day for a hike!"
"Up Grinnell! Gonna go to the top!"
Cheerful idiots, I thought. Fools. Shut the hell up and serve me my last breakfast.
"Oh wow, yeah, right on! Only, like it's closed. Been closed all week. You can only go up halfway."
"Closed!" McAdams was visibly shaken. "Why?"
"Bear activity, dude. Elk carcasses on the path. Gnarly bear feast, for sure."
I felt like Mr.Burns from the Simpsons. My fingers steepled together. "Excellent," I hissed.
Fire on the mountain
Scraggly tree and bored crow
So, when we were in Monatana, the Bob Marshall Wilderness Reserve was on fire, and that was visible for over 300 miles (Holy Smokes!); there was a big fire near the Idaho border, which we saw from the highway. Helicopters that looked like determined blue-bottle flies would hover over enormous plumes of smoke and drop gallons of water below. The water gushed out, like rain through a funnel, but it never seemed nearly enough to stem the flames or even break through the smoke. The air was acrid and our eyes got squinty. It was a bad scene, blogstahs. We figured it was probably the fault of people, as opposed to lightning strike. As Smokey, says, "Remember: only you can prevent forest fires." After this we learned a valuable lesson and pee-peed out the window for the rest of our trip.
Oh my goodness! I just realized how ahead of myself I have gotten! I have completely omitted what may have been my favorite day in Glacier; the day of the hike! It was fabulous! Pretend like you aven't read this post, then read the next one, then come back. Damn linear time! Cursed natural progression!
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Disclaimer and Update
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Polebridge Proper
Now, I'm not really the outhouse type, believe it or not. I like candles and bath salts and fluffy bath mats so my feet don't touch the cold tile in the morning. I think McAdams may have suspected this about me. "I brought extra toilet paper," she said soothingly.
This is the view from the outhouse. It wasn't so bad. In fact, as the night went on, I noticed that it was actually a very popular place. People came from on the horizon, whistlin' a tune, carryin' a roll of toilet paper over their heads, rappin' gently on the wooden door, doin' their bizniss, then heading back to wherever they had come from. There were some paperback mysteries and a book about a summer romance. There was a poster on one wall that detailed the differences between the black bear and its more fierce brother, the grizzly. They're both scary. There was a bucket (not the one under the hole you sit on) that had a sign on it that said, "You drop it in, we haul it out. Tips graciously accepted." I emptied my pockets every time I emptied my bladder, but I couldn't really imagine how much it would take to make that job a worthwhile endeavor.
Finally, night was coming to Polebridge. If we had been there a little later, we might have seen the Aurora Borealis. As it was, we saw stars for miles, and the slow but steady blanket of night tucking in the valley. People called out good nights: "Whose turn is it to watch Max tonight?" and "Joey, get yer butt on in here now!"Cars sputtered and caught and made their way down the long dusty rut they call a road in these parts. McAdams and I decided it was safer to use a flashlight than figure out how the gas lamp worked and we read to each other in the little round glow it cast. Then we whispered and covered up to our necks under our quilts and said goodnight. My last thought before falling asleep was: Man, I sure hope I don't have to pee in the night!
Polebridge rocked.
AURORA BOREALIS
Friday, August 3, 2007
Polebridge
We traversed the park, and drove through miles and miles of beauty and green. We pass campsites and bikers, chipmunks and deer. We keep going. We take a turn here, a jag there, go up a hill, hang a sharp left. I wonder if McAdams knows where she's going. There are fewer signs alerting us to trailheads and tourists' points of interest. In fact, it begins to seem as if we are headed nowhere in particular. We go through a part of the forest that was ravaged by wildfire in 2003; it's a totally different view of the landscape; sort of, well, dead and burnt, but it's also very striking, and hopeful in its way. Forest fires are common in the area and are often devastating. This summer has been bad in the northeast, and we witnessed two of them on our travels. One fire, in a wilderness conservation area, was so huge that we saw the smoke for about 300 miles. Right after we left the park, a community right near it, in Helena, I think, had to be evacuated because of fire. Most of they time they are caused by natural phenomena (ba-dee-dee, ba-dee-dee! Those of you who know what song I'm referencing, aren't you a clever OLDSTER!!), like lightning strikes, but humans are also responsible for many of the blazes.
Still we pressed on. McAdams smiled to herself, as she turned onto what I would have to call a pathway, and rolled up my window. She's like that, sometimes, our McAdams. Controlling. She'll just roll up your window for no reason, even if you are hanging out of it like a joyful dog with his nose to the wind. "Here we go, " she said in a somewhat self satisfied tone, as if she knew a secret.
and then another...
I told you it was dusty!!
Finally, we had reached Polebridge, Montana, population: well, I don't know. Maybe 40.
TO BE CONTINUED!!!!
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Bummer blog
I was totally unprepared for the crashing of the bridge in Minneapolis. How horrible. How devastating. How chilling. How bizarre. How random. My heart goes out to everybody. I feel so sorry for all those people and their families, and for all the others, not just here in the US, but everywhere, around the world, who suffer for reasons I just can't seem to grasp.
Take care and live well, people. Even if there is no purpose, no reason, no mission, no meaning, no guiding light, no nothing, I hope that we are all happy to be alive for as long as we are living, and I wish us all well. I hope I don't forget to really pay attention, and not fall complacent. I hope I remember not to live my life lulled.