This evening, we were going to meet someone I had heard my dad talk about for most of my life. A person whose name I have known, but who I had never met. Someone from a time that reaches back to when I was born. An old story.
Today started like every other here in Montana. Bright sun, mild temps, and a crispness in the air. We had decided that we would make the trip to the North Fork area of Glacier. It is the least visited part of the park, owing to the fact that one must travel miles of unpaved roads just to enter. And once you’re in, all of the park roads are narrow, winding, dirt road. Doesn’t sound appealing to most but to us it seemed like a perfect fit.
The NPS website, as well as most of what we read, cautioned travel without a vehicle capable of making the journey. Road conditions, coupled with sparse population and ZERO cellphone coverage, meant travelers were very much on their own if problems occurred. We were in a rental Hyundai Tucson, which was capable enough given the dry conditions so we headed out.
The one-hour drive mostly parallels the North Fork of the Flathead River. The river itself forms most of the park’s western boundary and the road is predominantly outside the park. The views of the Glacier mountains, however, were breathtaking. The sun had just crept over the distant range and cast an eerie glow over the lands that lay between us and the Rockies. Mingled between were charred remnants of past forests, rolling grasslands, hollows, and the Flathead River. Low areas were dotted with light fog which added to the overall picture.
The park entrance is in the small (and I mean REALLY small) town of Polebridge. Seems more like the central area of a group of ranches than an actual area of commerce. Just before the entrance we passed the Polebridge Mercantile which me made a note to visit on the way out (when it would hopefully be open). There was no wait at the ranger station which was a welcome change to the last three days.
We decided to start by heading to Bowman Lake, navigating a 6 mile drive over a very rough, very narrow, dirt road filled with blind spots. Thankfully it was also nearly empty! Bowman is one of several large lakes in Glacier that lie between mountain spurs formed by historical glacial activity. When the glaciers receded, most left behind deep, clear, freshwater lakes in the most pronounced depressions. Many of these lakes, like Bowman, run for 10 miles or more into the valleys.
We booted up and took a short but wonderful hike along the north shore of Bowman. The trail was narrow and wound through dense forests. And it is definitely bear country.
After Bowman we drive back to the ranger station and did another hike through an Alpine meadow. Again, we were the only people on the trail. This trail was even less traveled than the last, and began and ended in some of the thickest growth we’ve ever hiked through. Certainly felt like bear country. But it was uneventful and simply spectacular.
Leaving the park to head home, we made a stop at the now bustling mercantile. The building is original from the late 1800’s and was filled the smell of freshly baked goods, in addition to more traditional tourist trinkets.
I found a trucker hat I loved and Karen a t-shirt, both from Polebridge. We chose two baked goods for breakfast tomorrow and a sandwich we were going to split right away. OMG was it great!
Filled up on a great snack, we started the one hour drive back to our campsite. When we were nearly finished with the off-road portion of the drive, I stupidly mentioned to Karen how the NPS material really made far too big a deal of the road situation, and that it wasn’t bad at all. Well, the universe wasn’t happy with my opinion.
Yes, literally minutes after that ridiculous proclamation, a pressure warning went off for the left rear tire. It had been punctured by something on the roadway (or was it just the universe?) and needed changed. We got the spare and jack out of the trunk and I walked Karen through changing her first tire, which she did to perfection! She didn’t want me to risk another back injury right now. I should have learned my lesson, yet I didn’t after Pueblo (to see why, read HERE). Yet we made it home safely.
Tonight we were meeting up with a man named Chuck Martin. I say his name not because you’d know him, but because it was a name I heard my dad say a lot. This was a man my father met when he first started his career at Westinghouse in 1970. Usually the name was mentioned as part of some ridiculously hilarious situation. He was one of my dad’s closest friends, and he and my mom and Chuck and his wife shared lots of history together. Yet we had never met.
Chuck lives in Whitefish, Montana, just a half-hour from our campground. We met up at a wonderful bar in Columbia Falls called the Gunsight Saloon. It was truly wonderful. Hearing new stories about my dad was so much fun. Getting to tell Chuck about the experiences we had with mom and dad meant a lot to him. Meeting him meant an awful lot to me.
As I sit here (now in the dark) reflecting on the evening, I think back to a podcast we listened to in the past. It was a beautiful series by Anderson Cooper dealing with grief. One guest mentioned that just because someone dies doesn’t mean we can’t continue to get to know them. The more we talk to the people that knew them, the closer we get.
I wasn’t sure what it would be like to meet Chuck. Not being particularly outgoing, I was even a bit nervous. But when I watched his face, and saw the look in his eyes as he spoke about my dad, all my fears evaporated. This was someone who knew my dad away from his family life. This was someone I could learn from. And I did hear some stories I never heard before. And I feel closer to my dad because of that.
Although my dad died almost three years ago, his story continues to be written for those of us left behind. It’s a new chapter in an old story.
Ejaculate the building.
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