John Rachal's Blog

DAY 13, June 3, Monday

I managed to embarrass myself yet again today. I had planned a five-ish mile hike in the park but close enough to our campground that Val could go back to our site and come pick me up. As we entered the park, I asked the ranger about bears and he said that there had been some bear activity on the trails leading in from the St. Mary entrance. Sure enough, we had not gone five miles in before we saw right on the shoulder of the road what for about one second looked like a very large, very furry dog, but in fact was clearly a young bear, which we eventually decided was a light-colored, almost blonde black bear, perhaps two years old, and presumably no longer under Mama’s protection. There were few cars on the road, and I was beginning to re-think my solo hike, the “solo” part of which the park service does not recommend. We arrived at Sun Rift Gorge, and I was not the only hiker, so Val—who considered the whole undertaking “bad judgment”—and I decided that I would go out for one hour and turn around. Within a mile or two it was clear that there were others on the trail, and it is amazing what a boost of confidence that does for a bear-phobic, bear spray-carrying soloist such as myself. The trail meandered along St. Mary’s lake, often well above it, and eventually reached three waterfalls. My hour was up about a half mile from the third, 50 foot falls, so I turned around. On the way I spotted a marmot and a rufous hummingbird, my first. The embarrassing part is that I missed a turn, or actually took a turn that led me up to the wrong parking lot. I soon realized my error since I was way too early. Then with a couple who asked me to take their picture for the grandkids, we studied a map to determine which way I should go on the road. I must have hiked a mile on the road before reaching the conclusion that I had chosen the wrong direction—an astonishingly stupid error—and knowing that Val was waiting for me and possibly worried. Happily, two rangers pulled over, and I described our car and gave Val’s name waiting for me at Sun Rift Gorge. They then drove back there to tell her where I was. I also left in the car my cycling Garmin, which would have told me actual distance, elevation, speed, and grade.

On our way back we saw another small bear—Val did—and chatted with another fellow who had also stopped and who was a great wildlife photographer, the three of us hoping that the bear would re-emerge. Val had seen him in the rearview mirror, pulled over, and got a couple of shots of him at a distance, and the three of us concluded that this was indeed a grizzly, though not a big one. Our companion showed us some of his shots—a grizz, a baby moose suckling its mother, and some beauties of a fox, the moose and fox shots being real wall-hangers. In my haste to get a shot of our bear, I unknowingly dropped my Maui Jim sunglasses, and we both heard a strange crunching sound as we drove off. Then the aha. Ever fastidious, Val insisted that to leave them there was littering, but she was not fully aware of how exceedingly fine sunglasses can be mortared and pestled under the wheel of a large vehicle, so there wasn’t much to retrieve.

Later in the afternoon we drove from the campground back into the park at St. Mary’s hoping for wildlife. Before we had even gotten out of the campground we saw a fox, and while both of us got a picture, no wall-hangers. We went several miles into and back out of the park, but no more wildlife, except for a few birds of the duck persuasion.

The day has been mostly cloudy, upper 60s, and exceptionally windy. We had sandwiches for lunch in the camper, and for a couple of hours it was really rocking and rolling with very gusty winds, at one point sounding a little like a hurricane.

DAY 14, June 4, Tuesday

Today was an easy day. I cooked eggs and pancakes in the electric skillet. Val had a couple of pancakes and a piece of toast, which, cooked that way, resembles toast from a grilled cheese sandwich. We drove up to Babb, eight miles away, and then entered the park at Many Glacier. Again, all the wildlife were shy, and other than some birds, we saw nothing. At the end of the road I did part of the hike to Red Rock Lake where the photographer of yesterday had gotten those spectacular shots of the female moose and her calf. But here is a conundrum: I don’t want Val to sit in a parking lot for two or more hours, so, like yesterday, I walked in for a an agreed-upon time and turned around, giving me a very predictable arrival time. So I went in for half an hour, probably about a mile, and turned around, for a one hour, two mile walk in the woods, with the usual scenic views. I was probably only about half a mile from the lake, and that is the frustrating part. But someone who was returning had walked the whole thing and saw no wildlife at all since so many of the birds and other animals in this particular area are extremely fearful of cameras and binoculars. An alternative is for me to take the car, leaving Val at the camper, where at least she might have phone usage, if not reliable internet access. The Tahoe, which uses AT&T, can’t get a signal at our campsite, and of course the campground service is not secure; but we did manage to get a signal through the Tahoe at Babb and managed to transfer money from our individual accounts to our joint account.

On the return from Many Glacier, we had a delightful restaurant meal at the Two Sisters Café right outside of St. Mary’s, before returning to camp and repairing a small crack in the windshield.

The daytime hours are long. Sunrise here is at 530, and first light before that; with sunset at 9:30, and it is still dusk at 10. Alaska days will be so much longer that Val made blackouts for the windows since it will likely still be dusk at midnight.

In 1963 my Boy Scout troop travelled from Raleigh, NC to DC, to NY, crossed into Canada at Niagara Falls, travelled all the way across Canada, up the 1500 miles of unpaved road on the Alcan Highway to Fairbanks, to Denali, back down the Alcan, down through California, touching into Tijuana, Mexico for a day, hiking the Grand Canyon (a redemptive 20-plus mile hike for me after failing at it two years earlier at age 12 on an earlier cross-country Boy Scout trip led by the same Scoutmaster, the incomparable John Murphy), and then a final dash from Arizona to our termination point in Cumberland Gap National Park, Kentucky. I mentally compare that trip to this trip every few days:
Then: Every night for 11 weeks on the ground in a sleeping bag, almost always in a tent, occasionally under the stars.
Now: Every night on a memory-foam single bed, in a (very small) camper with heat or a/c if needed, bathroom, and shower.
Then: Every hot meal, with maybe two or three exceptions over 11 weeks and 17,000 miles, cooked over an actual campfire; always one per day, and more often than not two. All hot water heated over a fire.
Now: No campfire meals. All hot meals cooked in an instant pot pressure cooker, a microwave, or an electric skillet. Or in a restaurant. Camper has a water heater.
Then: Travel in a used school bus whose only air conditioning is a collection of open windows, and routes are determined by paper maps.
Now: What vehicle today isn’t climate controlled? Paper maps are still in, but at least as much routing is with GPS and various apps to help with where to get gas, find Cracker Barrels or Wal-Marts, the night’s campground, etc.
Then: Youth, fairly high tolerance for discomforts, blissfully dependent on adult leadership to solve all problems.
Now: Encroaching age, arthritis, and the two of you are on your own. But also, you set your own course, stay where and how long you want, and have, perhaps, a little greater appreciation of what you’re seeing and doing.

So: Lewis and Clark we’re not, but we’re doing OK, and it’s adventure enough.

DAY 15, June 5, Wednesday

We left the KOA on the east side of Glacier around 9:20—somehow it takes us two hours or so to decamp when we have to fully un-hook electric and water, hitch up, fill the fresh water tank, and dump grey and black tanks. We were only about 23 miles from the Canadian border, and we were fully prepared to have to pull over, get out, and have the customs agents rummage for an hour or so through the camper and car. But Val’s sweet look of preternatural innocence reduced the agent to mush, asking us only the standard questions (where you’re going, do you have firearms or other weapons, do you have firewood or produce), and wishing us a good trip. We drove to Calgary where we traded for some provisions at the general store. That’s Lewis and Clark talk for buying some groceries and other odd items at a Wal-Mart. Val also went into an IKEA, a new experience for her. Calgary is big and I was pretty happy to have it in the rear view mirror.

We covered 231 miles today and are in a small provincial park for one night, then on to Banff tomorrow.

Internet and other tech services are spotty up here, and we discovered that I won’t be making or receiving calls or text because I foolishly assumed that I’d have coverage. I had added international coverage when we were in Italy, but neglected to do so for Canada. My coverage will resume when we hit Alaska, and then I hope to be able to add the coverage retroactively for our return through Canada. Obviously, for anything even remotely complicated, Val figures it out for me. It’s pathetic. The good news on the tech front is that my new camera, which does not have a cord to my computer, can load my pictures onto the computer by some internet magic but also by removing the scan disk card and putting it into the computer slot. Perhaps I will have more success with Facebook.

We meet interesting people. More on that eventually.