Biking C&O Trail from D.C. to Pittsburgh

In October of 2008 I had picked up an Outside magazine while I was waiting to get my ears lowered. The article that sparked my interest was about a bike trail along the old Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, then it continued to Pittsburgh Pa. The canal had been constructed from Washington DC to Cumberland Maryland, beginning in 1828. The idea of a canal from Pittsburgh Pa. to Washington DC had been on the minds of our founding fathers since they waved goodbye to the last British ship that sailed back to jolly England. Canals were expensive to construct but it would be a cheap way to move freight, with the abundance of water in the east. The C&O was in operation from 1850 to 1924 but it could never compete with the railroad. The canal construction costs were estimated to be $3 million and take 10 years to complete. In reality the contractors spent 22 years and $13 million digging this canal and it never reached the goal, to the Ohio River in Pittsburgh.

The vision of a canal from Pittsburgh to Washington turned into a wet dream very quickly. The construction of the canal and the railroad from DC started on the same warm day in July 1850. The rail line beat the canal to Cumberland MD by 8 years. For 74 years the long canal boats, pulled by mules carried everything from coal to household goods. I imagine the Civil War had a huge impact on the canal and the mule drivers along the Potomac River.

According to my map Rosslyn Va. seemed like a good place to start my bicycle adventure. With the help of the internet I found a plane ticket to Ronnie Reagan airport and a clean motel in Rosslyn. By 1:00 pm I had arrived at the motel with my bicycle in a cardboard box and my gear in a backpack. The room wasn’t ready so my hosts advised I take the subway to DC and have a look see.

The subway was just minutes away and by 3:00 pm I was standing in the middle of all the major attractions that our capital had to offer. My first stop was the National Art Museum with a display of Turner’s master pieces. Then it was on to the Washington Monument, with the sun setting over the surrounding buildings. Lots of other tourists were soaking in all the history of the area. Since it can be interesting taking pictures of people, I decided to find a few subjects. My first victim was a Japanese girl that was either wanted or very camera shy. She threw her coat up over her head and is probably still running in a scared rabbit pattern around the Lincoln Memorial!

After a nice dinner, I was in my room and had the job of putting my bike back together. This wasn’t my first rodeo so I had plenty of practice pulling the bike pieces out of the shipping box and making it look like a bike again. With one eye on my wrenches and the other on a Leave it to Beaver rerun on the tele, I was just adjusting my seat height and tightening the bolt, when SNAP, I had two 1/2 bolts in my hand and it was 9:00 pm. My host said the janitor might have a replacement bolt but he didn’t show until 8:00 am.

The next morning I played lets find the janitor. My new host said he would be in the furnace room. I checked in the that room and it had everything but a janitor. I found him behind the trash dumpster sucking a cigarette that had a filter and wasn’t twisted on each end. Together we went through boxes of loose bolts. My janitor friend with a toilet plunger in hand was called away on an emergency. Without his help I was able to find a bolt about 2 inches to long but with a handful of washers, I made the whole contraption work

The trail had been neglected since 1924 that is until the 1950's when Supreme Court Justice William O Douglas ventured upon the path and was taken a back by the horrible condition of the path. Mr. Douglass’ goal was to have a park like setting from DC to Cumberland MD and have the National Park Service as the manager.

The next morning I arrived at the dirt path within minutes from my motel and without becoming a hood ornament from a crazed DC commuter. I noticed a lady walking her dog along the canal and not being quite sure I was on the right path, inquired.
“Is this the C&O Canal?” “Oh yes it goes on for a couple miles along the Potomac river.” she said.
“No it goes on for 330 miles, all the way to Pittsburgh and I am going to follow it!” I yelled.

There are 74 locks along the canal with 74 houses for the lock keepers and families to stay. The locks were constructed to control the depth of the water in the canal in order to keep the boats floating. Most of the locks and homes are still in fine shape and I passed a few within the first hour. It was autumn, the leaves of the hardwood trees had a special glow of red’s and yellows. The water in the canal only made it more special with a double image of vibrant colors. The park service has installed lots of metal tablets explaining history along the waterway. These plaques explained that the Potomac River played a major role in both Revolutionary War and Civil War.

Within the first hour I came to the boathouse at Fletcher’s Cove. An independent contractor rents boats and kayaks for river adventures on the Potomac river. A 6 foot high water mark on the wharf’s pilings gave me an idea of how high the river can get when the river needs to show its strength during flood stage.
The sound of dried leaves under my bike tires made a muffled crunch sound with every mile I pedaled. I had just gone by Glen Echo park when I noticed three gentleman walking along the path. They were walking side by side and I slowed to pass and to exchange greetings. I looked away from their glowing faces when I saw a bike coming down the path hell bent for election, in my direction. It looked like it was going to a head on collision and I had only seconds to react by leaning as far to my right as I could. I think this maniac on a Schwinn was going to try and knock me off the path, which could prove to be difficult since I am built like a brick out house at 6'3" and 260 pounds. My left shoulder caught the bike rider’s right shoulder. I held my ground but he flew through the air and went right over his handle bars and did a half twist and landed 20 feet over the embankment on his back. I got off my bike and ran over to the side of the trail and looked down at this fella who had landed flat on his back, with blood all over his face. He was completely motionless, just staring up at the sky and trees. The three walkers and myself climbed down and he came around enough to ask, “ What happened?” “I am not sure but I think you were going to try and knock me off the trail but it was like Custer, it seemed like a good idea at the time!” I explained. I had visions of helicopters with nurses repelling down to carry this biker away. But within a few minutes he said he was allright. Come to find out he was a volunteer for the park service. The blood was caused by the thorns on the blackberry bushes as this Flying Wallenda sailed through them. He was very lucky because 2 huge oak trees were like goal posts as he was projected between them.

By late morning after the dust had settled from my near head on, I had reached Great Falls Park. This section of the Potomac River has a series of falls and rapids that would be very challenging to any kayaker. I stayed for a hour watching the roaring river and the dare devils playing chicken with the each other. The kayaker would climb up above the waterfalls and after getting into their vessel, they would descend into the angry water. Within minutes they would fly over the falls and be lost in the foam of the water before reappearing in the calm of the pool below.

As I leaned against the steel rail that kept the peanut gallery from falling into the river, I started a conversation with a fellow biker. He had always planned on biking all the way to Pittsburgh, but work, a bitchy wife, snot nose kids and mostly lack of motivation kept Pittsburgh in the far horizon. My new friend could have been the welcoming committee for local sights. This was his 30th time venturing no more than 30 miles from DC his home so he sure knew the area. The thought of lunch motived him enough to suggest an off the trail lunch spot.

I could clearly see that the older building that would be our lunch spot was a built in Pre war time and the Revolutionary war would be my guess. A wide porch protected the front of the part tavern and part country store. The wooden floors creaked as we made our way in the back of the store to order our sandwiches. The multi colored metal ceilings probably was witness to many events. The sun was warm on our faces as we sat at a picnic table to devour our long awaited prize. A black fella joined us at our table. He too was from DC and was out hunting squirrels, with out any luck. “You know since I was a kid these critters have gotten smarter!” he explained. Early this morning I had biked by the huge complex that was Bethesda hospital, so I decided to spin a little yarn. “ Did you read the newspaper article about the experiments on squirrels at Bethesda Hospital?” I asked. “No.” he said, like he wished he had. “There’s been a series of articles about genetically engineering a squirrels brain.” I explained. “ One night because of the increase in brain power the lead squirrel was able to escape his cage.” I said “ The king squirrel then let out all his comrades from their cages.” I said. “From then on they have roamed the countryside at will!” I warned. “The worse ones are the flying squirrels with the large canine teeth.” I explained. “Half of me doesn’t want to believe you and the other half wants to go home!” yelled my hunter friend. “And the second half is leading the first half!” as he got into his car.

After lunch, I would continue on my travels north without producing to much mischief, I hope. My biking friend had exceeded his pedaling limit and would head back south to his warm bed. As I approached mile post 35 I came to the last operating ferry that crosses the Potomac River from Md to Leesburg Va. The river was about 1/4 mile wide at this point and numerous signs warned of the do’s and don’t of using the ferry. Within minutes the old flat boat loaded with cars from the far side arrived. After paying my dollar, the operator let our side board, with my raggity ass bringing up the rear. I snuggled between 2 cars and hung on as the ferry started with a jerk. The driver on my left side rolled down his window and was very curious about my trip. As I related the details of my trip, the ferry made short order of the river. My newest friend informed me of the latest and greatest news of Leesburg Va. I would find a few motels and fine dining. The home of George Marshall had been turned into a tourist stop and was worth having a look see. George Marshall was secretary of defense under FDR.

The countryside on this side of the Potomac was about the same except for playing hide and seek with fast moving vehicles. By 5:00 pm I was biking through the main part of town. Within minutes I saw my destination a Days Inn, with a restaurant right next door.

The next morning I awoke to a little liquid sunshine. I noticed as I rode my bike off the ferry into Md, I noticed a horse trailer. A black fella was riding his horse from Vermont to Oklahoma to celebrate Black Awareness month. His wife was following in the combination horse trailer and living quarters. In Oklahoma he was going to stop at the museum in Ponca City dedicated to a black cowboy who had invented bull dogging. This cowboy was having a dandy time seeing the country from a top his horse. He had a few questions about crossing the Potomac River 25 miles ahead and getting into Harpers Ferry with his horse. I knew of a steel bridge that handled only foot traffic but besides that I wasn’t sure.

The 25 miles from the White’s Ferry to Harpers Ferry should have been a snap except for the pounding rain. The dirt track had turned into a mud track with piles of mud collecting on my shoes and bike. By 10:00 am I was standing on the Harpers Ferry steel bridge that crosses over were the Shenandoah River and the Potomac River form a junction. I had crossed this bridge before when I had hiked the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine. The bridge was originally made for all types of traffic but now it’s for foot travel only.

Harpers Ferry is a very old river town and was the site of the famous raid by John Brown when he tried to free the slaves in the 1800's. Many of the old homes and factories are now only occupied by National Park personal that run them as museums. As I cycled my way through the narrow streets I was lucky enough to find a motel that would let me check in early. There is nothing worse than standing in front of a motel clerk with water dripping off your jacket faster than it’s raining outside. “We need a wet cleanup at the front desk!” I expected to hear. I hung my biking outfit in the bath tub to drip dry and then ventured around the town on foot.

My first stop was the Appalachian Headquarters to catch up on some gossip about the trail. Then I headed into the heart of the small town along the river. Every building had something to do with the history of the area. The Civil War played a big part of this town’s history. The Rebels and Yanks fought and died over this real estate many times with no one being the victor, except the under taker. I looked around the building where on a dark night in the 1800's John Brown and his sons tried to take over the arsenal, in order to liberate the slaves. It wasn’t actually the original brick building because from day one, souvenir hunters have carried the building away piece by piece. Three times the building has been rebuilt. Another landmark that held the armory where the guns were actually made was fascinating.

Being a sucker for any sporting goods store, the one along the old main street was special. A small spring was discovered when the original building was constructed so the owners just left it. The stream has made its’ own way thru the building, and you step over it to go upstairs.

An old train station still in operation is across the street. Passengers from Washington DC have been using the line for years.

The next morning was more of the same with a monsoon hovering over my head. I have to remember, if it was easy everybody would be doing it! By noon I had made the midpoint section of the C&O and it stopped raining and I was hungry. Williamsport had a visitor’s center and small lunch spot. I could fill my belly and brain. The track was very boggy so I had to push down hard on the pedals to make any head way. In this area there are a series of dams that form large and small lakes. I stopped by one of them and observed a woman in a kayak slowly paddle up to a heron and talk to it. No I didn’t have to many martini’s for lunch, she does this every day. A professional photographer almost knocked down a row of Japanese tourist to get a picture.

By dinner time it was beginning to rain again and my butt said it was time to rest the body anyway. The town of Hancock with a bike shop and motel would come in handy. The mud had chewed up my chain so the bike and myself could use some R&R. The bike mechanic told me that the summer was a very busy time on the canal as he cleaned my chain.

Next morning was more of the same with the rain not beating down quite as hard. Just enough to piss off a biker. Part of the canal trail had been washed out for years so I had to travel on the main road as a detour. The farms and countryside with turning leaves were worth the side trip. By noon I ended up at a little town called Little Orleans. A old time country store and bar was the only thing still standing. The store had a collections of this, that and the other thing. These pictures were of fish caught on the Potomac river. Deer antlers nailed to the wall with last years Christmas lights still lite and hanging from them. On the bar were large jars of cloudy liquid that at one time probably held eatable food. Now they just looked like some mad scientist’s chemical experiment gone south.

The bartender stood in front of me as I bellied up to the bar. “This used to be quite the place in its’ time.” said the bar keep. “The mule drivers from the canal use to run up here for a few drinks, while the lock people changed the mules.” said the bartender. “If the mules took longer than expected they sometimes had a little trouble finding there way back to the boat.” he said.

No big surprise but it started to rain again. The town of Paw Paw W.V. was just around the next bend and that would suit me just fine. I found a B&B in this small town of a gas station and 2 restaurants. No one was at the B&B so I walked to the restaurant next door. The same fella owned both of them. For $65.00 I got a bed and breakfast at the nice restaurant. In between taking food orders the waitress threw me the keys to the old house next door and told me to get settled in any bedroom, I had it all to myself so far. After a shower and a little wash off of my bike clothes and bike, I headed back to the restaurant for dinner. The waitress had plenty to tell me about this area of W.V. Paw Paw is a fruit that grows on a tree like a apple but it will make your mouth pucker up if it’s picked and eaten before it’s ripe.

Since it was still quite early and there wasn’t a lot to do in this town, I thought I might ride my bike to Winchester. The waitress advised against it, since the road was twisted and unforgiving and so were the drivers of the logging trucks.

The next morning was a clear day with the sun actually coming out now and again. Luckily for me I had a head lamp for the 3,118 foot tunnel. The tunnel had water running through it for the canal boats and also had a 5 foot wide sidewalk carved out for the mules to walk. The tunnel took so long to dig it was only in use for a few years.

On the other side of the tunnel I met a man that had driven up from DC for a weekend retreat. He was a lawyer in the boiler rooms of our capital, and he comes up quite often, just to look at the flauna and flora.

By noon I could see the outline of Cumberland MD. The point were the C&O stops and the 150 mile Allegheny Rail trail to Pittsburgh starts. There was a bike shop right along the canal trail and before I could even ask the store manager about washing off my muddy bike, he handed me a hose and brush. After a quick wash off and some words of wisdom from the bike mechanic I was ready to head up the hill.

I was climbing over the Eastern Continual Divide. My first stop would be Frostburg MD., an old train town. The heavens had opened up again with a vengeance. I put on a rain slicker jacket that I had bought years ago for New Zealand’s crazy ass weather. I was covered from my bike helmet to my buttocks. It was quite the relief when I saw a sign for Frostberg but the climb wasn’t over I still had a zig zag trail to get part way up to the town. The train station and a combination tourist trap store and motel were across the street. This time in order to get a room I had to talk to the cook that ran the store and small café. The room was small but very clean, and had plenty of room to hang my dripping clothes.

After a warm shower I walked over to the train station. A train from Cumberland Md had shown up and was stuck on the wet track. It had rained so hard the steel track was slippery. The engineer had a grand idea, lets throw sand on the track under the spinning wheels. It worked too good, when the wheels got traction, the train leaped ahead and threw a few passengers to the floor of the train car. Within a few minutes over the moaning and groaning of the bruised victims you could hear the sound of a distant ambulance. Come to find out the spinning wheel and the sand happens a few times every year, and there are always people that have to stand up to look out the window just as the train gets traction.

I had a 15 minute walk up to the town of Frostburg. The towns main street ran parallel to the trail track but it was a couple hundred feet above it. The town had the usual assortment of bars and stores, with some of their windows decorated with newspaper because of the lack of business. While eating a Chinese dinner I educated myself with the local history from a local publication. Come to find out from my reading on Fathers Day 1953, Harry S. Truman our president at the time drove his family from DC to Frostburg and spent the day here. Then in 1981 a logging truck lost its’ brakes and jack knifed in to the Stoops restaurant, killing 3. Damn I missed all the exciting stuff!

The next morning the skies were clear and all was good in the world of biking and outdoor activities. I had 8 miles to go before I made the crossing at the Eastern Divide at 2900 feet in elevation. As I approached the tunnel that cuts through the divide, I noticed a couple of other bikers. Come to find out they do this trip every year from Pittsburgh Pa to Cumberland Md. They also have a friend they bring along, a small dog, safely tucked into the woman’s bike basket. They told me the trail in Pa is the best, especially since the trees leaves are turning. They may be right about Pa, because the trail was crushed limestone as I rode through a tunnel of lovely trees along the trail. A flock of wild turkeys slowly walked across the path, probably knowing I didn’t have a gun.

Within a few minutes I came upon 2 turkey hunters. I explained that they had just missed a flock of turkeys but they were in MD.. One hunter doing his best Elmer Fudd impression said “You have to be very very quiet!” The countryside with the open fields and large barns and silos was a welcoming sight.

The weather was clear and warm. I was making good time as I biked along the Allegheny Trailway. I rode through the town of Meyersdale and only stopped for a look at the train station, right outside of town. Then by dinner time I arrived in Ohiopyle on the Youghiogheny River. This was the town to be in during the colonial times, now it’s just for river rat kayakers and tourists who eat ice cream. I found a great motel and after a quick wash, I made my presence known down town. What there is of down town! The city had a Halloween contest going on, with all types of goblins and witches running around. The house ,Falling Waters, designed my Frank Lloyd Wright is just up the road, and might be worth a visit, except that all the tours were sold out and it was miles away. I walked along the river and watched the water tear across the rocky river bottom. The park service had built a great observation platform above a 6 foot water fall. It used to be the place where a grain mill stood until the spring flood waters decided it wanted to do some remodeling.

This would be my last day of the bike trip. Plans called for me meet my sister and her hubby along the trail and we would bike to Boston Harbor. Falling leaves from the surrounding hardwood trees covered the ground as we all biked the last few miles.

Backpacking Glacier National Park 2008

Journey’s in Glacier Park
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I had just finished a labor intensive remodel job and it was time to get my ragged butt out of Dodge! I have been dreaming of Glacier National Park ever since my son and I had spent a short week in the park in 1997.
I planned a three week backpacking trip that would take me into Canada. The first leg of my journey would include a free plane flight to Spokane, Washington, thanks to frequent flyer miles. Than at 1:30 a.m. I would catch the Empire Builder train to West Glacier, the gateway to Glacier Park.
As our plane cut though the sky I was lucky enough to be sitting next to a rather interesting soldier from North Carolina. Jamie Buckley is a Country Western singer for the Army. Jamie and his band played at all kind of events and in between guitar plucking he would sing the virtues of Army life as he tried to corral young people into joining the armed forces. Tonight he was singing the national anthem, solo before a sold out crowd in the downtown arena. He offered me a ride into Spokane from the airport with his rental car and to hang out at the Holiday Inn, since Uncle Sam was paying for every cotton picking thing. Originally Jamie had served eight years in the Army with a few tours in Iraq and then decided to experience civilian life for a while. He joined a police force in Washington state and seemed to enjoy it. Jamie and his wife must have been spending a lot of time getting reacquainted because they had six kids by this time. The health care benefits of the Army was a big motivator for Jamie to reenlist. He went to the Army recruiters in Spokane with a long list of hurtles for the armed forces to jump over. Number one, he would regain is rank, number two, he would not have to go to basic training, number three, he wanted to sing Country Western music, and number four, he wanted to be stationed down south. Jamie said there was a long moment of silence and that was followed by ten minutes of laughter coming from the recruiters. Than the next day Jamie got a call and was told to report for duty with all wishes granted.
I had time to kill before my early morning train so I first went to the Imax theater and watched the Black Knight, after the movie I walked downtown Spokane and than I ended at the 20 plex mega movie complex. I started with Ma Ma Mia and than ended about midnight with Indiana Jones movie. My eyes felt as if I had been using a eye wash of sawdust and vinegar.
At 12:30 a.m. I showed up at the trail station with every kind of shape and description of down and out character hovering around the front doors. The people inside were of a little better class, with most folks just trying reach their destination fast and cheap. A undercover security guard was smooth talking two women from Australia. A younger guy with a attitude and a dark trench coat walked up and tried to sell the three some weed. “Who are you suppose to be Al Pacino!” yelled the guard. Al was elbows and asshole as he went running through the front doors at lighting speed!
When the train rolled in was the real start of my adventure with all of us carrying backpacks and having to crawl over sleeping passengers on a darken train. It was every man for themselves as we latched on to a seat and defending it. I had just settled down, when a rather large women tapped me on the shoulder and said the conductor had assigned her this very seat. I just rolled over and showed her my ticket and dozed off. One hiker in faded army fatigues was having a hell of a time getting his four foot high backpack up the stairs, and then he did an about face when I mentioned the storage was on the main floor.
I managed to get some sleep and awoke when White Fish station was announced as our next stop. The country side looked wild with roaring rivers and tree covered mountains in the distance. By 8:30 a.m. my transportation pulled into West Glacier station. My friend with the fatigues strolled ahead of me as we walked towards the entrance to the park. I stopped for a quick breakfast and a quicker change of cloths in to my backpacking attire.
When I arrived at the Back Country permit office my friend was still there talking about the bears. “If I see a bear I am going to take my walking sticks and bang them together like this! As he demonstrated. “Then if that doesn’t work I’ll yell “YO BEAR” which again he practiced. Come to find out he had come all the way from Portland by train and was camping for only one night. The ranger was very helpful with my vision of hiking to Canada and back in 21 days The camping cost is $5.00 per night and the fishing is free, what a great holiday this going to be. I got a permit for the Nyack River wilderness area of the park. The ranger informed me that very few people venture into this part of the park. The trail could be hard to follow and there maybe a few blow down trees across the trail. As the rangers finished filling out my permit, he informed me that a short video was a requirement for backpacking in “GRIZZLY COUNTRY.” Being a potential victim, I was taken in a small room where the lights were dimmed and the worse case scenario for hiking in the back country was shown. LIONS, TIGER AND BEARS -OH MY! The movie showed what to do at river crossings, unhook your pack. So you can crawl out of it if swept away by a raging current, which I never do. My tombstone will read ‘He died with his pack on!” Next it showed what to do when walking across a steep snow field. Always carry a ice axe and crampon for your hiking boots, which I don’t carry because of the weight. Next it showed how to fend off a bear with yelling, screaming and then crying. Than as a final solution soak the bear with pepper spray, which the park sells for $50.00 a can. The profit per can for someone living in the Bahamas must be $49.50! The park employs must be making something off the sales of bear spray also with all the sale pitches. I was at the visitor when a Japanese tourist came to the counter with questions about the bears. The sales lady told him she sprays the bear spray on her steps before she goes to bed to keep the bears out. The man bought two cans. At the park stores instead of play elevator music they are playing commercial for bear spray. “How effective is your bear spray and what to do when a bear comes up and pulls a knife.” After the video I asked the ranger “How many people just get into their car trunk and close it after viewing the video!”
I imagined the bears all getting together in some cave in the back country and showing their own video. “Listen up boys!” says the Boss bear. “Every summer the two legs come into our woods but they pull the same stupid tricks every year!” “Since we eat at night and sleep during the day, I know we are going to be awoken in the middle of the day with these morons yelling “YO BEAR” at the top of their lungs, try and be patient with the two legged!” “ You, Bob the bear, listen up, last year your impersonations didn’t seem to scare that many hikers, instead of Elvis, try George W or that Cheney fella!” suggested boss bear. “ Lastly remember if you have to take a dump do it in the middle of the trail and throw some buttons and bells on top, people will stare at for hours. Always tear apart old trees with plenty of bit marks along the most busiest of trails, that’s always a crowd stopper.”commanded Boss bear
After watching the thriller movie and listening to the ranger’s song and dance I was handed the permits. All the procedures had taken over three hours so I wasn’t able to get started until 11:00 a.m on my first trail. After walking all the way back to the entrance and then walking through the rangers residential community I was on the Boundary trail headed towards Harrison Lake. The trail followed the middle fork of the Flathead River with views and sounds of rafters enjoying themselves on the river. As I crossed the Lincoln Creek on sway bridge I noticed a old ranger patrol cabin on the opposite bank which would make a nice place to have my first meal. Within a hour I came to the junction for the Harrison Lake trail with a huge two story homesteader cabin in the final stages of decay set back in the woods. Several pieces of rusting farm equipment decorated the woods with numerous trees growing up between the spokes of the tractors. Before this the trail had been fairly level as it followed the river but now it was beginning to rise. Several blow down trees also blocked my path . As I came to a small clearing a large wolf with thick red and grey fur entered the trail and ran on a head. He was a magnificent animal with a loping gait in his walk. The wolf dropped the back leg section of a deer as he disappeared into the brush. I caught sight of the lake and knew my camps site couldn’t be that far off. The area was carved out by glaciers thousand of years ago and the lake sat between the high mountains . A green tent set in the trees let me know that some campers had already arrived. The couple were loon counters. On July 17th every year a couple are station by every lake in Glacier with the job of counting loons. This couple had found two loons with a chick. They had also noticed with their spotting scope a nesting pair of ospreys with young ones across the lake. The couple didn’t look like they were in the best of shape and it had taken them two days to walk the trail which I had done in five hours. They kept complaining about how tough the trail was and I just agreed with them, since I didn’t want to hurt their feelings.
After dinner I tried my hand at fishing and caught a few nice rainbows. I started a fire and had my first fish cook out by moon light.
The next morning I started back down the trail towards Nyack Creek trail head. I small black bear appeared ahead of me on the trail and with in minutes he jumped over a downed log and was gone. Next came the Harrison Creek crossing and I followed the trail of a herd of elk which had just crossed. The water was swift and cold as it lapped the bottom of my pack, my walking sticks and legs were shaking back and forth in unison like strings being plucked on a guitar. Across the creek I lost the trail and went through some swampy area with heaps of flies and mosquitos. I came to a dead elk that appeared to have been killed by a falling tree some time last year. I lifted the tree off the skeleton and picked up the massive skull with 6 points on one side. Within hours I found the Nyack Creek trail and started my walk up into the creek headwaters. Almost immediately I came to blow downs across the trail. Sometimes they were every ten feet. Instead of getting mad I made each one a puzzle to be figured out. Some were right across the trail with green pine needles still attached so the limbs were rubbery and hard to snap. Than some time the tree was right on the path parallel and I would climb up on top and walk down them like a sidewalk. Sometimes they were across the path with enough room to crawl under the fallen giants. Twice there was so many fallen trees that the trail was impossible to follow and I would make a serious detour around the log jam. One time I jumped from the tree trunk onto a hornets nest and the little devils let me know with stingers that they didn’t appreciate me remodeling their nest.
The trail marker indicated my campsite was 13 miles which I knew was wrong because the ranger said they weren’t sure of some of the mileages. A old patrol cabin with a large front porch made a good spot to stop for the night. Beside my camp site the Nyack Creek was making a uproar with it’s water rushing over the rocks. With all the back ground noise, a brown colored bear didn’t notice me. I stepped back into the shadow of some trees and watched him for a few minutes. I was planning a Kodak moment as the creature rambled by but I wasn’t sure if it was a brown black bear or a grizzly. I remember when I was growing up how a funny it was when I would hid in the closet and jump out at my older brother. Then I remembered that my older brother usually beat the snot out of my for scaring him. So I let my presence be known and the black bear ran off.
The next morning I traveled along the creek with lots of wonderful waterfalls and deep pools of water. As I started up Surprise Pass the blow downs out numbered the standing trees and I completely lost the trail. I spent a hour searching all around the country side looking for this narrow passage way. Within a hour I discovered the trail to Beaver Women Lake campsite. The path was again covered with trees and I was beginning to think maybe Glacier Park should be called Blow Down Park. I heard the distant sound of talking and the sound of a women laughing. When I arrived at the campsite there wasn’t a soul there and maybe it was the wind blowing through the fallen timber or maybe the spirit of Beaver Women thought it was funny as hell that I was losing my religion on the blow downs. There was so much fallen timber I couldn’t even see the lake or get to it for that matter. Waterfalls cascading down a distant hill side serenaded me to sleep.
The next morning I awoke to a moose with a puzzled look on his comical face in the camp, like I was the first two legged creature he had ever seen. I had to cross the creek five times in the same amount of hours and there was all kind of bear signs around the water crossings. By 4: 00 p.m. I arrived at my trail head that would lead me into the next drainage. The sign was there but the trail had not been maintained in years and had returned to it’s original state. It was also looking like rain so I made a decision to make my camp at Coal Creek campsite. This site had seen better times with trees across camping spots and the horse corral. The last straw was the low boy toilet was smashed flat as a pancake. If your given lemons make margaritas! After looking at the map I decided make a circle and go back to West Glacier the next morning. If I got up early I could walk the 38 miles in one long day.
With all the talk of grizzlies at headquarters, well your mind starts to think that a blood sucking bear could be around every tree. High thimble berry bushes are trying to take over the paths with a lot of success. The undergrowth is so thick a herd of charging elephants could be behind the growth and you couldn’t see them. The fog from the weather change made it almost like from a horror movie with something moving in the distance but you had no idea what it was nor did you want to find out. After crossing a swampy, buggy area I noticed some fresh cut marks on some fallen trees. The crew had cleared this area “there is a God!” The trail continued towards the Middle Fork of the Flathead river and it was just very mellow. By 4:00 p.m. I was back at the ranger’s cabin at the Lincoln Creek and had my dinner. I still had many miles to go until West Glacier and the possibilities of motel room was about nil. By 7:00 p.m. I walked into the town and noticed a few NO VACANCY signs hanging up. I stopped at the Glacier Motel anyway, just to ask for suggestions about getting my butt in a clean bed. The older landlady most have called ten places until she finally found a place in the next town of Coram. The owner agreed to come pick me up after I had dinner at the restaurant next door.
By 8:00 p.m. the landlady was honking her horn and I was on my way to my shower and a bed. Her and the hubby had bought some old cabins and were in the process of fixing them up to modern standards. While we drove a along at a fast clip you could tell she wasn’t happy being a landlord or a wife or both. Plus a friend of her’s, two nights previous had gotten hammered and walked out in the middle of the busy highway and became a hood ornament to truck going seventy miles per hour. As I was getting out of the car her husband walked up and they exchanged a few seconds of deep contempt, hatred, can’t stand your guts looks. I got out the hell out of the way of any flying objects or verbal abuse and headed towards the office. I payed my $125.00 for a room and the entertainment. “Would it be possible to get a ride back to West Glacier tomorrow?” I asked. “I have to work and my husband has to clean six cabins before he can even think of doing it!” she said. “Do you have a laundry I might use?” I asked again. “There is one 2 miles up the road.” she said with a wicked smile, knowing I was trapped. “Do the rooms have a phone so I might call my wife?” I stupidly ask. “You know you’re getting to be quite a pain in the ass!” she exclaimed. I thought, it’s fun to be abused and pay $125.00. After my shower and washing out my cloths in the sink I noticed a cell phone on my front porch chair. She must have a small piece of heart left after all.
The next morning I started the walk back along the road. A large berm along the road for bicycles made the trip quite pleasant. With in a hour I came to a café and walked in to a small cozy counter with a few tables. Two fella with their noses in the newspaper gave a quick glance towards me. An older fella was sitting closest to the door on a stool. After a few minutes I made the offer of buying his breakfast if he gave me a ride to West Glacier. He agreed to my offer but said that he would buy his own breakfast. Herb had moved back to the area about five years ago when he retired. His family had lived there when his dad worked on Hungry Horse Dam project. Herb’s job had also been in construction for the defense dept. His company would got out to a deserted island in the South Pacific and build a small community for scientist to work and live in while observing atomic bombs be detonated. One hurtle that the US government had to clear was the treaty that they had signed banning all bomb testing. Herb’s company did their construction in the event that the treaty was dropped and than the mad scientist could have the communities up and operational in 120 days . Herb mentioned that the grocery store in Hungry Horse had a better selection of food for my resupply so after breakfast we headed that way. Than he dropped me off right in front of the Back Country Office. Time to get a new set of permits.
The ranger was interested to hear about Nyack River area since most had never been back there. With my new permit I caught a free shuttle bus to the end of Mc Donald lake and a starting point for numerous trails. I picked up a drink at the small store by the McDonald Hotel and was sitting on a bench. A car camper with his son sat beside me and almost put his arm around and asked”What’s it like in the back country?” he ask. I know how Daniel Boone felt when he came out of the woods. I think the man expected stories of wild Indians and the sound of beating war drums in the distant. He and his son were so interested I tried to make the story of my encounters of bears and wolf as exciting as I could with out blowing it to out of proportion.
Unfortunately my new trail could only be reached by walking along a black top busy road with traffic whizzing by with narrow berm to hide on. After a ½ hour I was able to find a horse trail that kept me off the road of doom. A ranger’s station located at the end of McDonald lake made for a perfect place to have a bite to eat and take in the beauty of the perfect lake. The Trout Lake trail was not that far down the gravel road and I was climbing it with in a few minutes. The trail climbed and climbed and than it was a roller coaster as it lead down to the four lake system. I was going to Arrow Lake for two days of camping and fishing. I met a woman as she came up the trail.”Yo bear! “ Is what I heard in the distant. The women with this low cut halter top was quite the sight in the woods. She looked like a free spirit with unshaven legs and hair under her arms as long as the ones on my head. She had worked in the park for three years and just loved it. I continued on and crossed paths with workers on trail maintenance, riding mules home. From the trail I could see Rogers lake and Trout lake in the distance. Trout lake was a long narrow lake that was formed by a grinding glacier eons ago. Thimble Berry bushes were covering the path and now I know why my hippy friend was yelling for the bears.
I arrived at my campsite at Arrow Lake and it was a thing of beauty. The lake held lots of large Cutthroat trout that were mighty hungry . A tent was already set up and a fellow camper was sitting by the shore. “Have you seen any bears?”asked my young friend. Funny you should ask. “Just last night while I was in my tent I could hear large claws against the hard ground. The fella in the next tent slowly unzipped his tent then I heard a blood curdling scream. I stuck my head out of tent to see a grizzly rip out this man heart and hand it to him. I was able to save his life with dental floss and duct tape.” “Normally that maybe funny but this is my first backpacking trip.” he said When a small buck deer appeared in the search of salt the nervous camper just about jumped out of his hiking shorts. “Are those dangerous?” he asked. When his friend arrived we all sat around on washed up logs at the end of this magnificent lake. “It was probably a mistake but we watched the movie Grizzly Man before we left town.” his friend said. “Oh that’s the movie were the couple gets eaten by the grizzly at the end.” I said. “Next time I suggest playing it backwards so it has a happy ending!” I explained. They noticed I didn’t filter my water and were concerned with my health. “I did a trip in Equador and the Indians gave me orange colored water, that they said was clean.” he said. “ They lied to me and took it right of the river were the community washes and uses as a bathroom! “They lied to me!” he said in disbelief. “I was sick for three days and thought I was going to die!” he said. “What are your plans for tomorrow?” I asked as I watch a perfect mirror image of the surrounding mountains appear on the lake. “Since there is not much to do here we will be heading back to town for the babes and the beer!” they said.
The next morning I loaded up a small pack and headed towards Camas Lake that was six miles away. I followed the shore line until the trail ended up in the lake. I changed into my Crocs and walked ankle deep in water for a ten minutes and than the under brush was so wet I just kept them on. By noon after spotting a head of elk I came to the lake. It was more like a pond with heaps of bugs, I didn’t even stop to take a picture.
Within hours I was back at the Arrow lake and ready to try my hand at fishing. I was standing along the main creek that feed the lake. I would drop my float attached to a fly into the creek and watch the float being taken out to the lake by the force of the current. The bobber was a bright orange so it was very easy to watch. A fish came to the surface and took the fly, I thought. When I reeled him in the fish had my bobber in his mouth and he just as fast spit it out.
The next morning I was headed back up the hill and back down to Mc Donald Lake. I walked across the busy road and started up towards Sperry Glacier area. My objective would be Synder Lake. The trail was very wide with lots of mule, horse and people traffic using this baby. I got to my lake about three in the afternoon and tried a little fishing and maybe that’s why I caught little fish. The camp spot was nice with large sweeping waterfalls in the distance. By dinner time a couple from Vermont showed up named Vicki and Sam. This was their second trip out West, if it wasn’t for bad luck they wouldn’t have any luck at all. Last year they were called back home for personal problems. This trip they drove as far as Montana and the Honda they were driving made a loud sound and said “Hasta la vista” to the motor. The garage mechanic gave them some money for parts off the car and they mailed home what they couldn’t fit in their pack. Then they bought a train ticket to West Glacier and started walking. They weren’t use to mountain hiking, along with 85 to 90% of the rest of the world and they were worn down. Plus the packs were filled to the brim with everything under the sun. We had a nice chat while they prepared dinner. The problem with couples that backpack together, is they backpack together and friction, anger and short tempers come to the surface like a volcano. Sam couldn’t do a thing right according to Vicki. The stove wasn’t hot enough, there wasn’t enough water in the pot and the veggie mixture wasn’t to her standards. Plus you add swarming mosquito, bitting horse flies and aching muscles, your bound to have some classic temper tantrums!
Another group showed up and they were in the same mood but they were gay couple, so we have all kind of new rules for engaging the enemy.
They had new camping gear and it was the latest and the greatest. Each fella wore a mosquito veil over their head and they would lift it of so gently to shovel in freeze dried food into their mouths.
I don’t know if this was their first date but conversation centered around the fact that they had been given different directions to the trail head, were they would meet up. “I remember telling you to meet me at the McDonald Lodge and than I waited on the front steps like a bride left at the altar.” One guy kept saying through his veil. “No, no I said let’s meet at the trail head for Sperry Glacier and did you bring the bug spray, a squadron of mosquitos are biting my ankles and their going to swell!” he said.
The next morning I was packed and ready to go before any more fire works was due to explode. I had a long hike to Ellen Wilson Lake. I first had to walk back down the Synder creek drainage trail and then turn back up the next drainage towards Sperry Glacier chalet.
A group of chalets were built by the rail road to promote travel in the park in the 1920's. The train would leave tourist at East Glacier with a fine hotel waiting for you. Than you would ride a horse to Sperry chalet and than Granite chalet and than on thru the park to Many Glaciers. The chalet were built by Norwegian stone mason and have the look of a European chalet. Hikers today can ride a mule or walk up to the chalets for a few days and get a warm meal and a bed. A group of ladies was coming from the chalet as I was walking up the trail. “Have you seen any bears, young man?”asked one of the lady hikers. “I did see one with blood and guts hanging out of it’s mouth!” I said. With a concerned look on her face the lady said “ I bet it was a deer the bear was eating!” “No I don’t think so because a small arm was sticking out of the side of his mouth with a watch on it! “It takes a licking and keeps on ticking-Timex!” I said with glee. Then they all got the joke and laughed. Later I could hear the jingle jangle of a mule team coming up the trail. Each mule as they passed had a heavy load to carry. Large propane tanks and plastic trash containers filled to the bream with assorted gizmos for the chalet crew. Within minutes I say the first wrangler fly through the air and land on a pile of rocks with a thud. The mules were already spooked from the sight of a bear at the beginning of the trail. Than the second mule which was tied to the lead mule saw a shadow and pulled back so hard he pulled the wranglers saddle way to one side. The wranglers mule than got scared and bucked off the rider. Than all the mules started to kick and throw their packs, what a mule traffic jam. The wrangle advised I walk through the trees and go around the mess. The wrangler was very lucky not to get hurt.
I stopped by the chalet just long enough to have a look around and find out about breakfast and dinner. It’s always fun to break up my meal menu routine with a real food. Than I continued on to my camp site at Ellen Wilson lake. A group of ladies were standing on top of the trail before it dropped to the next drainage. I had meet them when I was waiting for the shuttle to McDonald lake. They had lots of questions about pack weight and what do I eat. Almost everyone asks the same questions that I meet, how far do you walk in a day, what do you eat, where do you resupply? Two lakes could be seen below with a few white Mountain Goats standing guard along the mountain sides. The trail branched off down to my lake. Four guys from Louisiana were hanging out with their backs against a large boulder. They had just started their trip with plans with going on to Canada. The leader was trying to rally the troop without must success. “It looks like it might storm and we have got to make it over Gunsight pass before the lightning starts!” he explained. Turning to me he ask about my backpacking and explained he had walked around the Wonderland trail in nine days. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I did it five. They got up on their feet and headed up the pass. I set up my camp and eat lunch and then decided to walk up the pass for a look see. Half way up I met up with the Cajun group just a huffing puffing away. I found out that the group trained by walking on the leve in New Orleans A large waterfall came over the trail and even larger snow field was on top of the pass with a stone shelter built for shelter from the wind during storms. It did look like a rain storm might move in and besides I wanted to fish so I headed back down the mountain.
The fishing was very good with lots of Rainbow trout but the fishes got a reprieve with no fires allowed. By dinner time all the campsites were full and two hippy girls without permits were sleeping on the beach.
The next morning I got a real early start because I wanted to make the 7:00 a.m. breakfast at the chalet and than set up my camp at the Sperry Chalet camp ground. The sun was a fire ball as it came through the slot of Gun Sight Pass. The same Mountain Goat was on top of the ridge to welcome me into the next drainage. I walked into the chalet and found a table to have my fill of a pancake breakfast with all you can eat. The tables were family type with a mixed bag of people and they were all interested in my travels which made for nice conversation. I could only eat three cakes but it was a nice change. After making reservations for dinner I set up camp and got a small pack ready for my trek up to Sperry Glacier. In the next camp spot were Vicki and Sam from Vermont and the sparing was still going on. This time the Sam had caught a bug and was leaking from both ends. The song ‘SHOULD I STAY OR SHOULD I GO!” came to mind. If they continued to the Gun Sight Pass it wasn’t going to be easy, especially with a twisty tummy. If they turned around and went back down the hill it would mean defeat, which Vicki had her far share of on the last trip out West. The door to the million dollar bathrooms opened up and there stood Sam. Now it’s movie title time“DEAD MAN WALKING!” He had a container of water under one arm and had even bigger container tipped skyward as he tried to get some moisture back in his body. I should explain about the million dollar toilets. A few years ago there was a lot of newspaper cover of the federal government paying a million dollars for these fancy-pansy toilets in Glacier park. The reason being is they get so much traffic they had to be built to hold the waste and keep the glacier water clean. I don’t know if they looked like a million dollars worth but they were nice with solar lights. The bears were even using them!!
I left the Vermont couple to sort out the song title from the movie titles as I headed towards the Sperry Glacier trail. The trail followed the concaved mountain side with patches of snow along the trail and on the high cliffs in the distance. Several large waterfalls came cascading down the slope and crossed the trail. At one water crossing a group of six people were taking a break and we all got to talking about Glacier. The group were neighbors on McDonald Lake and had a mission to climb Little Matterhorn mountain. There are numerous old cabins built all around the grand lake. These residences were built before 1910 when the park was established so these lucky duckies got to keep there little place of paradise. Jonathan which I got to know as we walked the trail together, grandmother had built the cute little summer cabin. The trail followed a giant snow bank that had melted away from the hill side. Than it took off straight up the mountain through the slot in the rock, know as the grand stairway. A split in the rock eight feet wide made for a perfect walkway to the top of the mountain. At this point my new friend headed towards their mountain and I walked towards the glacier. The views from top of the world were spectacular. I could see the back side of Gun Sight Pass which I had been to yesterday. Numerous types of colorful wild flowers hid in the rock crevices to get out of the wind. The Sperry Glacier which has been slowly melting away in the last few years was still a sight to see. After lunch I started back down the hill and met up with Jonathan and his friend Sam. They didn’t like the new route, picked by the group, to Little Matterhorn since the established route was snowed in. We had nice walk down with numerous stories of the park being swapped. I bought them a hot tea at the chalet while we waited for their group to reform.
Jonathan offered to drive me to Hungry Horse to resupply for my next adventure when I walked into Canada.
With dinner on my mind I got as clean up as I could with a 5 day beard and putting on my cleanest dirty shirt. I was to sit with family from Helena, Montana. They were really interested in my walk. The father was a glass artist in Helena and use to live in White Fish which is thirty minutes from Glacier, but his family never used the park for hiking. His mother would say there is nothing but wet mule crap on the trails and we aren’t going there! This was his first trip and he seemed to get a kick out of it. After dinner some of the guests pulled up their chairs around our table and wanted to hear about my adventure trips. Some took notes for future ideas.
By 8:30 a.m. I showed up at Jonathan’s cabin door and what a gracious host. Since I smelled like the south end of a cow heading north, Jonathan suggested a nice shower and shave, before our trip to the grocery store in his closed car. It was good to get a few layers of trail off my old body. When I stepped out of the bathroom Jonathan didn’t recognize me. What was a most pleasant surprise was that my hiking cloths had been washed and dried! We both stepped in to the living room and I noticed two sculptures by Charles Russell. Jonathan’s granny had been good friends with the world famous artist. Than I noticed on the wall a large bison hide that had been painted with eight different Indian war scenes. A famous Blackfoot Indian had painted this media for his grandmother. The statues were appraised at $90,000 and the hide was priceless. We were off to Hungry Horse and his son had already ridden his bicycle towards the town and we were to met him at the grocery store.
Again I was back in the Back Country Office making out my final route. The ranger was excited about my adventures and was most helpful getting my butt into Canada. Then I walked over and checked into a real hotel over looking the lake and took another shower.
The next morning I caught the shuttle bus and was heading to Logan Pass. A fellow passenger mentioned it looked like rain. “Oh no it always looks like this in the morning, no worries!” I explained. When we got off the bus, horizontal cold rain was pelting everybody and everything. I put on pack cover and got out my umbrella. I ran to the visitor center and noticed a sign posted 60 to 80 mph winds forecasted for this afternoon. A group of four hikers were standing by the door and we started to talk about the trail and rain. The trail was fairly level since we were already on top of the mountain. Both of us were headed to Granite Park and they had been turned around yesterday. They were trying to come up from the loop road with a 2200 foot gain in elevation. Their little legs couldn’t handle the steep trail. I noticed my ranger friend with the arm pit hair, was working the information desk. She informed me that the winds could get to 80 mph and suggested the loop trail head.”It’s steep but I have seen you walk, you won’t have a problem!”
By the time I got off the bus the loop trail head the rain had let up and a group of motorcycles riders were as relieved as I was. The campsite was 4 miles away with a 2200 foot gain in elevation. I met a older couple that were walking the Continental Divide Trail and were not in the best of moods, especially after I told them of the high wind advisory. I made camp within a one and half hours and was setting in my tent when the next rain front came through. After the showers I walked up to the Granite Chalet and the workers had a nice warm fire going. Since the park service can’t get the water clean enough for EPA standards, no meals are served, guests only sleep here. The hiking group from Sperry Chalet showed up and we had a little chat. The big old stone building had some major wind drafts and it was warmer outside than inside. I decided to walk over to Swift Current Glacier Overlook. The skies still looked dark and windy so I kept my pack cover on and occasionally it would wipe in the wind with a loud slapping sound. The trail was steady climb with nice views of the valleys and fellow travelers on the trails below. The wind was blowing so hard through the notch in the rock at the over look, I stayed back with fear of being hurled to the glacier and rocks below. I had walked back for thirty minutes when I noticed my pack cover wasn’t making any noise. I took off my pack and my cover had vanished. I walked all the way back to the notch and luckily the blue cover was stuck on a small bush and was flying in the wind like a kite.
Back at the camp the four hikers from the visitor center had made the trip and we had a nice talk. The girl was from Oak Creek just outside of Steamboat Springs Colorado. About dinner time a women showed up wearing sandals and she had forgotten her tent. She worked for Alaska Airlines and got a free flight to West Glacier and jumped on the last shuttle. It looked like it might be cold tonight and wondered if she might freeze but her bag was well insulated, and I suggested to her she might walk up to the chalet if it starts to rain.
The next morning as I walked out of camp I noticed this ball of sleeping bag with a women in it on the ground. I continued up over Swift Current Pass with some wonderful views of the lakes before me. The sun was reflecting off the lakes far below and the skies were clear from yesterdays showers. Two waterfalls cascaded down the slopes to help form the lakes. Then by 10:00 am I started to met some people, this is a very popular trail. The biggest concentrations of grizzlies and moose are here. It’s kind of a soup of frightened people looking at frightened bears and a few bewildered moose thrown in for flavor. A few people stopped and ask about my pack and they wanted to go backpacking but with out the weight on your back, the bears and the cold, rainy weather.
I walked over to the camp store to buy some items that you really don’t need but might enjoy. One hiker that I had met on the trail told me of a grizzly and her cub coming out of the woods after I pasted. Than I guess this photographer with a death wish got between the cub and mom and took a living video of a bear’s life. A crowd formed and yelled for the guy to get out of there but he held his ground and nothing happened.
I than noticed a younger guy with a tee shirt on that had Pittsburgh written across the front. We started to talk and his dad appeared and come to find out we had gone to grade school together.
The next morning I started up Ptarmigan Pass towards the tunnel, with plenty of warning signs about grizzly sightings and trail closures. As I gained in elevation the lakes and streams below lite up with a morning sun reflections. The tunnel had been built to help horse riders go from one drainage to another. As I exited the tunnel a grand valley with my Elizabeth Lake campsite was ahead of me in the far distance. A two foot high wall had been built to separate the trail from the sheer drop off below. There was small rock slide and a ranger told me that a woman had ridden out of the tunnel and her horse got spooked by the rock slide and had thrown the women over the wall to her death on the rock below. I found a few bowling ball size rock and rolled them over the wall. They most have rolled for five minutes. The rider must have been like a rag doll somersaulting over the jagged rocks below!
I arrived at the camp site about the same time two rangers were unloading their pack mules. They were going to repair the hitching post for the outfitters that bring fishing guests into Elizabeth lake. After eating my lunch with them and talking about the park, my plans were to walk to Helen lake. They had some interesting stories about this that and the other thing. They had met on the Wonderland trail and had gotten married on the trail. Since I had walked the trail we had lots to talk about. I was taking a poll about sighting of grizzly bears along the trails in the back country. Sally told of a study of grizzly done a few years ago with DNA bear hair taken off barb wire strung up at lots of different spots. There are 400 grizzlies for 1 million acres. One of their friends has worked trail maintenance for eight year has seen just one grizzly, funny enough in the tunnel I walked through. The biggest concentration of bears is in the Many Glacier area.
As I walked among the bushes looking for huckleberries I stepped on a shed moose horn that was in the perfect shape. I hid it among some rotten trunks and planned on carrying it back to camp after the Helen Lake trip. The lake was a glacier lake, what else! With high mountains all around. The wind was blowing strong so it was tough to fish. I returned to camp with the horn on my pack and decorated a tree near the eating area.
This is a perfect time to talk about lay out of the campsites. One site is set up for horses to be hitched to a post so the critters can’t graze on native grasses. All horse food has to be carried in. Next you have the food storage area with long cables between trees for the hikers food to be hung. Everyone carries a rope and you throw this rope over the cable and than hook your food and hoist it ten feet off the ground, to keep the bears from snacking. This can be some enjoyment watching people try to get their rope over the cable by attaching a rock to the rope and pitching it hard but not to hard or it comes back and hits your head. Next a few logs are formed into a square for hikers to sit on and prepare their food. Then way off in some distant point is the low boy wooden toilet. Some times the potty doesn’t have any walls which doesn’t allow much private time and doesn’t allow much protection for your buttocks from the bugs and weather. Lastly the rangers have set up several campsite for hikers to set up ones tent. There are usually just three to four sites per camp area and it’s first come first served by a reservation system.
Scott which had a few backpacked trips under his pack in Glacier was setting up his tent as I walked by. His eyes were blinking like a bull frog in a hail storm with nervous thoughts of bears behind every tree. Scott was hiking solo on this trip because his friends came up with every excuse under the sun at the last minute. He was a airline pilot for Delta out of Atlanta. I swear every statement he made, ended with a nervous laugh, like he was telling himself everything going to be all right, isn’t it? “Did you’re wife make any ground rules for you, since you’re also traveling alone?” Scott asked. “ Yea don’t get anybody pregnant under eighteen years old!” I said with grin.
After dinner and a brief rain storm I head with my fishing pole to scare the snot out of some fish. I walked to the windward side of the lake were I figured any bugs would be blown in this hurricane. I caught 7 rainbows and 2 graylings in forty five minutes. I also found a old fishing hat with a few fishing flies attached. The rangers were still working on the hitching post when I got back to camp. I dropped the hat on the ground and to my amazement they knew the owner. The older fisherman which owned it for twenty five years had felt naked with out it.
It rained most of night and with all the undergrowth along the trail I knew it was going to be a car wash getting to the next camp this morning. As I approached the Belly River I noticed the rangers had a steel cable strung across the water as a support. By midmorning I walked into the Glenn Lake campsite. Since fires are allowed at this site I noticed a group of hikers were huddled around the smoky fire. Packs, hiking shoes and sleeping bags was spread around the fire pit. One hiker was a Army Ranger from Fort Lewis and I had met his commanding officer when I did the Wonderland Trail a few years ago since they train on that mountain. He and his wife were have a hard time mostly due to the fact that his pack weighed as much as his wife. There was also two brothers that were have a grand time hiking and fishing along the trail. I set up my camp spot in the best location, protected from by the trees. It pays to get in to camp early. I did some fishing along the shore with not much luck but with great scenery. I decided to investigate the next lake called Mokowanis. The creek coming out of this lake formed Glenn lake and I fished the headwaters and caught my dinner of a nice size Lake Trout. I hung him from some bushes beside the lake and walked onto the Mokowanis Lake . A large waterfall roared in the back ground as I caught a nice size trout.
By the time I made it back to camp, after eating my fair share of berries, along the trail, Scott was in camp. He was a little jealous of my campsite because his tent was in the open with the sun beating down and turning his tent into a pizza oven. I started a fire and gutted my fish. Then I had collected some wild onions and stuff the fish with them. I made a grill out of green sticks and I was ready for a fish cook out, with my fish being the honored guest. After the trout’s skin turned a crispy brown he was ready for a fork and mouth. Scott had been watching this master chef at work and when I asked him if he wanted some, he declined, much to my relief but disbelief. A group of two adults and two teenagers showed up and they had camped in the park many times. The two older guys always tried to take new young blood to show the back country. After I had eaten everything in sight a couple from Australia showed up at camp. I could hear them a long way off. Yo Bear-Here Bear. The girl was a chemist for Shell Oil company and had a two year work visa for the US. The boyfriend was just tagging along, for the honey and the money. The two was breath of fresh air since everyone else was kind of up tight with bears, mosquito and giardia in the water. All my views of the following are kind of laid back compared to most hikers. I had just finishing explaining to everyone that I don’t filter my water and the woman scientist conformed my theory about the dreaded giardia. It’s not that they can’t swim up stream, it’s they can’t live in cold moving water. They would die during in the winter if they happened to survive during the summer. A person is four times more luck to get giardia from a public water treatment system than from a flowing mountain stream. Everyone just sat their like some one had told them that the Easter Bunny wasn’t real. One hiker said I am still filtering my water! The woman said that’s your choice but unless you do it in a sterile laboratory your just wasting your time. I heard a little sniffing and a noticed a few tears coming down smoke covered faces. The couple was just stopping for a break and were moving on, which was a good idea because a few tree could have been used for a lynching at this point.
The next day I would head over Stoney Indian Pass with a great view of lakes and stream below. As I crossed the pass I could see my next site at Stoney Indian Lake. A couple of rangers showed up to check permits and to work on the bear pole. A bear could see the food on top of the pole and had pushed against the steel pole hard enough that the pole had snapped at a union connection joint. With some elbow grease on pipe wrenches and Wd 40 we were able to break the old union off the pipe. A mule team was bring up a new pie and that would be another’s rangers job.
I started to fish and almost immediately lost my best lure. Why not take a hike up the mountain side and the mountain pass in the distance. The bush wacking was taking some time besides the sixty degree slope. It all seemed in sight when a thunder storm was beginning to develop. I made it back to camp and started to eat dinner when the Aussie couple showed and waltzed into camp. The three of us came to the conclusion” Don’t talk about politics, religion and filtering water, it upsets people!”
The new people in camp were from Denver and we had a nice chat about the Mile High City. Scott was also there with one eye checking out bushes for the bears.
Next morning I was to start my walk to Goat Haunt and than my boat ride to Waterton Canada. Kootenia Lakes was on my way and I stopped in to have a look see. The two brothers and the Aussie couple were there. They were all looking at the perfect mirror image on the lake. Someone had told me that the boat didn’t leave until 2:30 pm but I decided to go to the harbor early just incase it was not true. I also wanted to change one of my permit stays and the same ranger that I helped with the bear pole was in the office. He told me that the boat showed up at 11:00 am and he was able to change my permit. I had time to hang my wet cloths and tent out to dry while I waited. The brothers showed up and they were going to walk to Waterton.
When the boat showed it looked like a refugee boat with people hanging over the rails. The wooden boat was built in 1927 to handle the tourist and for entertainment. During the 1920's when the USA was experimenting with prohibition, Americans would sail on the boat and cross the Canadian border in the middle of the lake and party. Today the boat would take me into the town of Waterton for a triathlon-“Shit-shower and shave.”
I got the last room in town since this is Heritage Day and everybody and their dog has the day off. I got to take in a movie and had a nice relaxing time reading the paper and going up to Prince of Wales Hotel.
The next day I waited until 10:00 a.m. for my boat ride back to Goat Haunt. This time custom agents were on board and they check my passport and driver license before entering the good old USA. A little different then the Canadian’s customs, on that side I called Calgary by telephone.”Do you have any guns, liquor, or bombs?” asked the custom agents. “Well no I left them in my other backpack!” I could have said.
By 4:00 pm I was approaching Brown Pass. Several tents were already set up. The mosquitos were thick and hungry. I set up my tent and took a walk in search of water. The sign said 1/4 mile but it was more like 100 feet. Four people were camped out at this spot. A retired doctor and his wife. The wife Sandy had worked with Pam in the 70's at St Joseph’s hospital. One fella had gone to CSU at the same time as me but I didn’t know him. The other fella was just a happy go luck kind of guy. The doctor had some stories to tell and retell. I was eating some wild onions. “Oh my god, some of these onions are deadly poison!” he said. “Aren’t you thinking of wild carrots.”I said. Then he noticed I didn’t filter my water.”Oh my god I got giardia three times by doing that!” he said. “I haven’t filtered water for five years.” I explained. “We watched a grizzly the other day with a spotting scope as he dug out a marmot and then he bit into the struggling critter and blood and guts flew everywhere!” he explained. “That’s good that way he won’t be hungry for me.” I said.” Do you carry any bear spray?” asked the Dr. “No, I carry lighter fluid, I’ll spray it in his eyes and if he keeps coming I’ll ignite him and then I’ll have bear ka bob!” I said. That seemed to end the conversation about bears. “Than there was the time my family was hiking and the snow covered the trail and it was in August, we had to put bread bags on the kids feet.” he explained. “That’s why I always carry a snow blower when I am in the mountains.” I said. “Is your name Doctor Doom?” I asked. At this point the rest of the group had already walk away after hearing these same stories a zillion times.
The next day was a short one for hiking with just four miles to Hole in Way campsite. It was suppose to be the best camp spot in the park and it lived up to it reputation with fourteen water falls. Since I got into camp early most people were still in their tents.
I set up my camp and took off to the mountain side above the camp site. Lots of waterfalls were coming down the hill sides. My objective was to make it to the small pass but numerous snow fields blocked my path. My lunch spot on the mountain top was picture perfect with thundering waterfalls at my feet.
When I got back to camp a couple of hikers had heard that I was walking for 21 days and wanted to know the inside scoop of the weight of the pack and the food choices. Than a few people from the ferry ride had set up camp. They were not going over Boulder Pass like myself, because the ranger told them the need for crampons and a ice ax to cross the snow fields. He hadn’t mentioned that to me so maybe they got tired of filling out my permits.
The next morning a deer followed me out of camp and part way up the trail. The ranger’s were right about the snow fields. It was early morning so the snow was hard and the path across was slanting at a down hill angle. One false move and I would turn into a toboggan as I sailed down a few hundred feet into some large rocks. I took my time and used my walking stick to help stabilize my steps. I was glad to see the other side. As I worked my way through some head high Thimble Berry bushes I heard the old “Yo Bear” I answered “yes, I am John Bear!” a father and his son were headed to Hole in the Wall campsite. “I bet it’s not very far?” he asked. “It’s four hours from here and you have to cross five snow fields.” I kept walking and by 3:00 pm I made it to the headwaters of Kintla lake and my camp spot. The lake is long and lovely and I thought would prove to be the best for fishing. Well guess again sardine breath! I didn’t catch any and there was three fish biologist in camp that conformed my thoughts. The fish were far and few between. A couple in a canoe showed up, with large food bags, since you can get a lot in a canoe as compared to lets say a back pack. Three girls from Utah that had been camped on the pass and also showed up. Than four guys from Russian with a quest for fishing made a appearance. The were from Chicago and worked at Abbot Medical which my son Matt is going to work for come September. We had nice time sitting around and telling lies.
The next day I would walk to the end of the trail and get on the closed inter road back to West Glacier. A older ranger and I mean older was at the camp ground, his wife and he had been married sixty five years. Six months ago she sat up in bed and then fell back with a fatal stroke. He didn’t know if I could make it to West Glacier on the inter road, because of a creek had washed out a bridge. Than I heard the story of large blow down crossing the road. He advised I ask a ranger at Pole Bridge ranger station about the road condition. He also introduced me to the retire superintendent of Glacier park. My old room mate from college, dad had been superintendent at Dinosaur National park and I wondered if he knew him. He did and told me he had died last year and his wife lived in Estes Park ,Colorado.
The distant storms were moving into my area and it rained off and on for three hours. Along the road was Service berries, I mean tons of berries. They didn’t have a lot of flavor but they are good and moist. By 4:00 pm I came to Quartz Campsite with a sign for camping. What a pleasant surprise because my map had said that this campsite was closed. After dinner I walked around the campsites and met a couple in a home made 4x4 motor home. They told me the bridges were not washed out and there wasn’t any big blow downs. A stream kept coming out of it banks and covering the road, that’s why it was closed.
The next morning was my last hiking day with thirty miles to go into West Glacier. The well packed road was easy to follow but it was hard on the feet. By 2:00 pm I was getting close to Apgar Center. The wind had picked up and as I walked through a burned out forest, the wind blow over two trees with a bang and a cloud of dust. Than as I was going by the last lake a loon cried out as if to say goodbye, see you next time.
When I got home after hearing so many stories of bears from rangers and strangers, I decided to investigate the yarns on the internet. Since 1839 Yellowstone has had more tourist killed by wild Indians than bears! Stagecoach accidents have killed more people than bears! For every 11 million visits from tourist there are one bear encounter. Pam my wife said”I could be that one!”
Journey’s in Glacier Park
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