John Rachal's Blog

DAY 62, July 22, Monday

No particular plans had been made for today, our last full day in the West Glacier area. Kalispell, Columbia Falls, Hungry Horse, Whitefish, Coram, and Glacier itself are all within a maximum of 30 miles from each other, with Columbia Falls, Hungry Horse, and Coram all along the way between Kalispell and Glacier. The day was uneventful. After splitting a late breakfast at Val’s beloved MCT, we had time on our hands and walked up Nucleus St., Columbia Falls’ inventive name for its Main St., and one of those little roses begging to be smelled popped up: a used bookstore. How many towns with less than 10,000 population have that? Why not Hattiespatch? We hung around there for a while with the dogs in the car, it being still cool. I chatted with the owner, who was almost at the point in the business of being able to pay herself, and picked up a couple of books. I must have been feeling nostalgic for Mississippi since I asked if she had Eudora Welty’s Delta Wedding, which our lawyer neighbor had been reading, and though she had one Welty work she did not have that one. So I ended up with three short Faulkner novels in one volume and Shakespeare’s Insults, which just looked like fun. I also thought of my buddy Russ, who suffers from an exotic strain of bibliophilia, and our shared affection for used bookstores goes back to our high school days and Sembower’s in Raleigh, NC. That old-book-scented store was owned by an older couple but is now long gone, alas. Russ acquires books like Imelda Marcos acquired shoes; he tells me that his wife, who implores him to part with at least a few hundred stored at their house, has been discreetly kept in the dark about the room-full stash at his office. I also had a bibliophilic friend in grad school whose apartment I visited once. It was as if he were a hoarder of junk, but in his case it was books. You had to walk along tight little trails in his living room and presumably his bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom because books were stacked all over the floor and on shelves or tables or chairs so that normal apartment life was impossible. I was amazed.

We headed over to Kalispell with dogs in tow. Appropriately, our last night in Kalispell and vicinity included pizza at Mooses Saloon (the possessive apostrophe apparently being a dandified and perfumed ostentation as far as the original owner was concerned). Then to Wal-Mart, then to camp: walking dogs, building a fire, going to bed.

DAY 63, July 23, Tuesday

I woke up around 6 worrying about making a tight turn when we pulled out. Val and I both had considered that option vs. backing up a hill and turning slightly. We decided on the moving forward option, though realizing that if it was so tight that the generator platform on the camper would crunch the back of the car, then we would have to back up around a curve and still avoid that crunch. So we opted for easy but possibly less safe and pulled forward pretty as you please, though Val said the platform came within six inches of the car. But good as a mile. “In every life we have some trouble/But when you worry, you make it double/Don’t worry, be happy.” One of the Stoics—I can’t remember which one, though I read it recently in a book Russ gave me, The Daily Stoic—said the same a little less musically 2,000 years ago.

We passed the 10,000 mile mark on our way south, much of it along the enormous Flathead Lake. Our first destination was Missoula where Val had made plans to see someone’s Escape 19. Our camper is 17 feet, including tongue, and at that size there’s a whole lot of togetherness, especially over almost three months. So we have been curious about the Canadian-made Escape, also a tiny bit wider. Two feet sounds almost insignificant, but in the right places it makes a difference. Actually “we have been curious” means that it’s extremely probable that we will get one. But it’s not just living space, it’s also storage space. I have seriously considered not buying a six-pack of Cokes because I wasn’t sure where they would go. Not that we will be doing any more three month trips—we both agree that that is too long. But we have met a whole squadron of nomads who consider three months just a good start, some of them even in a small camper.

Then on to Butte, where we were meeting another couple who owned an Escape 19 in the Wal-Mart parking lot. There are scores of variations and options on these campers, and almost everyone seems to do at least one or two of their own customizations. We had a good visit and learned a little more.

Earlier in the day the temperature hit 92 by the car’s reading. A stay in the Wal-Mart parking lot seemed untenable at 2 in the afternoon, but by 8:30 when we got there, it was fine, and there was even a little breeze. We drove about 280 miles today.

DAY 64, July 24, Wednesday

We continued south toward Yellowstone, approximately 145 miles to the west entrance. Val had made reservations for three nights at Grizzly RV park a mile from the entrance. The terrain heading south was quite appealing, changing from very large hills spotted with individual trees or patches of trees on what looked like manicured lawns. Rock formations at higher levels were dramatic, but the road was a bit curvy and the hills were steep, working the car pretty hard both up and down. Not sure why I anthropomorphize my vehicles like that, but I suspect it has something to do with the unpleasantness of climbing hills on a bicycle. But at least we have 8,600 pounds towing capacity on the Tahoe; and the camper, loaded, is probably around 4,000. The rule of thumb is no worse than 80% total weight to towing capacity, that is, a 4,000 pound weight is the maximum for a vehicle with a 5,000 pound capacity. But I sold the Nissan X-Terra with its 5,000 towing capacity because I felt that that was not enough cushion, though it did fairly well. The people in Missoula were towing their somewhat heavier Escape 19 with a 5,000 towing capacity Honda Pilot, and I thought that was stretching the bounds a little bit. Also the lower actual weight of the Pilot might possibly allow the tail to wag the dog in tricky winds or emergency avoidance turns. This is boring, I know. Sorry.

We arrived at the campground in mid-afternoon, set up camp, walked Leo and Lucy and left them in the camper with air conditioning on low. We picked up a little info at the park’s west entrance Visitors Center, discovered that Old Faithful was scheduled to blow in a little over an hour, at 6:02 pm give or take a maximum of 10 minutes, and we were close to 30 miles and an hour away. We made it in time. I should mention we weren’t the only ones there. As Val said, here we are with a few thousand of our closest friends. She (that would be Old Faithful, not Val) blew right on schedule, and it was a fine sight, water and steam rising to about 120 feet or so. I cannot remember whether I saw Old Faithful on the 1961 California Scout trip or the 1963 Alaska Scout trip, but I am almost certain it was the former. In which case I was standing close to where I was today watching the eruption 58 years ago. It still works, roughly every 90 minutes.

We returned to camp, had supper, walked dogs, did computer/phone stuff, and I looked at possible hikes, thinking, of course, of the exercise warden and the fact that I will be obscenely unfit when I get home. The fact that we have dogs and that Val doesn’t do much in the way of hiking, coupled with having only one vehicle, coupled further with the fact if I had my druthers I’d be hiking with a partner, all conspire to complicate hiking. Knocked off a little before midnight.

DAY 65, July 25, Thursday

Today we had planned to do a big loop covering a big chunk of the park, but we lounged around too much this morning, cooking pancakes for breakfast, and did not get away until late morning. So instead of the loop, we did an out-and-back of just over 100 miles, stopping at places both going out and up and other places coming down and back. We passed Bunsen Peak which some of the O’Neal clan conquered almost two months ago. I also scouted a possible hike for me tomorrow, Purple Mountain. OK, yeah, I like purple. I think I can even get a place to park in the pull-out at the trailhead.