The Misadventures of J. and Beau - Day 2: Howard Lake

The next day - Saturday - not as early as we planned (it never is), but early enough, we set out on the road north. The car was packed tight with our camping gear (including that BLUE blanket, *wink*), and the cooler was stocked with bottled water and ice. Through a trip to Good Foods (a mutated clone of the evil Whole Foods), we had amassed about 12lbs of bulk food from which I made my own version of trail mix: yummy honey granola, GOOD nuts, dried cranberries, banana chips, and m&m's. No frickin raisins or sugared pineapple or walnuts in this baby! Of course, the four or five bags of trail mix cost about $3000.

We were off to Howard's Lake in northern Montana, near Libby. From Missoula, it is a few hours to Kalispell, which is of similar size, though somewhat different character. We both like Kalispell a lot, though most of my experience of it has been driving through it. We've even contemplated moving here, but what *I* would do for a living is beyond me. In between Missoula and Kalispell is Polson, which I suppose at this point, is basically a tourist town, mostly because it embraces the mind-boggling massive Flathead Lake. Now, I was practically born on Lake Michigan, so I have some familiarity with what a "great lake" is, and Flathead Lake certainly qualifies. Now with Lake Michigan possessing 22,400 square miles and Flathead Lake just 191.5 square miles, you'd think there's no comparison. But when you're driving around Flathead, it doesn't seem that way.

To me, the majority of any body of water's beauty has to do with the effect of the sun. I was convinced further of this when living across the ocean in New Zealand, since I had my morning ritual of staring out the kitchen window and observing with an almost scientific interest its ever-changing appearance. It could be twinkling blindingly in a baby blue; lapping happily in a warm turquoise; or terrifyingly rough in dirty grey. They were all beautiful to me, but my favorite was the rich, peacock-blue color that I just couldn't get enough of. I don't know if it stimulates something in my brain, raises my levels of serotonin, or is just plain pleasant, but when gazing at water that color, I feel hypnotized. I just feel so good.

And very fortunate to me, as we angled around the lake, which stretches from Polson all the way up to Kalispell, the bright sun turned that water just that color blue I adore. Gorgeous.

Somewhat marring this beauty was the sprawling development which seeped into every inch of space along the lip of the lake. As soon as you reach Polson, it begins in earnest. The town jealously hugs the lake with vacation homes, hotels, restaurants and boat ramps. But what tears at Beau's heart, is that it just doesn't end. As the highway parallels the lake on its way north, you see, almost non-stop, building after building in mid-construction. Enormous hotels and bloated family homes. Considering what wages are in this state, it completely boggles my mind how ANYONE is affording to live in these mammoth structures - and there are HEAPS of them! Many Montanans will quickly tell you it's the "fucking Californians" who swoop in, buy up the "cheap" land and build their dream homes upon them (fucking over everyone else whose property tax then skyrockets). I don't know. SOMEONE here has cash. "I used to really love this lake, but it's been overtaken," said Beau.

With the sun beating down relentlessly (I would end up with a sunburnt right arm and thigh from just sitting in the passenger seat for hours), we made it to Kalispell where Beau wanted to stop in a Chinese buffet for lunch. I was skeptical, since I've never been to a good Chinese buffet, but it's just the word "buffet" that draws you in again and again, despite your better judgment. And as I've mentioned to Spongie, I think Thai food has kind of ruined me for Chinese food. The flavors in Thai food are so intense, that when you eat Chinese food afterwards, it's like drinking watered-down Kool-aid. But, it did what food's supposed to do, it filled us up, and we were off again, after a brief stop to pick up some more supplies (we could shop for this stuff FOREVER).

Then we were driving up north, crawling closer and closer to the Canadian border. *waves at Lazuli* Beau began to relax and a look of contentment crossed his face. "I love this country," he said, "I love it out here." For him, it's the towering pine trees you have to crane your neck out of the window to see the tops off, the endless grass, and the backdrop of mountains that never end. And the smell. He often talks about the pine smell out here that he misses so much. To be totally honest, I didn't smell it, though I didn't say so, and at that moment I felt like somehow I wasn't one of the chosen ones.

We finally turned off the highway onto the bumpy, gravely road to Howard Lake. The whole way we didn't see a soul, and every once in awhile we'd make a stop, like at the archaeological site of an old town that was built in 1898 and burnt up by 1910. Besides an interesting sign providing background, the site itself didn't seem to consist of anything at all. It was just another patch of forest. I did see some unidentified berries and picked them. They were like tiny red beads with teeeny dots on them; I believe they were buffalo berries. I had brought two different bird-tree-flower guides with me for just this purpose and was going to take them back to the car to see if they were edible. As a joke, I waited until I was in Beau's line of vision and then purposefully brought the berries up to my mouth. Just as I reached my lips I heard, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, GOOFBALL!?" while simultaneously having the berries forcefully smacked out of my hand, where they sailed in a gleeful arc through the forest, landing silently some distance away. Besides the shock of the smack, and humor at being called goofball at the moment of my potential poisoning, I was also touched. I told you I find everything touching.

After what seemed like a very long time, we reached the entrance sign to the lake. Hooray! Finally! It was after 5pm, so it had been a long day. Our Honda meandered and rocked closer and closer, it was pretty exciting. We were going to camp alone near a giant, secluded lake. We'd cook over a fire, maybe we'd fish, play in the water, who knows? Beau told me the story again about how he had been out on the lake on a boat, not a soul around, and there, right in the water, was a moose! Both a scary and fantastic moment. They're certainly impressive, but not always gentle giants. I thought how great it'd be if *I* could see a moose too!

Just at that moment we rounded the bend and were slapped in the face by the earth-shaking rumble of a generator. An enormous camper trailer was set up at the entrance. A woman (possibly a park ranger) , poked her head out and said, "Are there envelopes in there?" (We would need the envelope to pay for the daily charge for the lake). Beau checked and nodded numbly - he was in shock. The peace of the isolated forest had been dramatically shattered. As we very slowly continued to drive on, we were hit with a continuous onslaught of noise pollution, consisting of barking dogs of all sizes, children running wild, and drunken parents shouting back and forth at each other, and their kids. The place was OVERRUN by campers, camp sights, enormous RV's, etc. By the time we reached the water, Beau's disappointment was so thick, I felt like it had oozed into the pores of my skin. I was heartbroken for him, and a bit bummed out in regards to our plans.

After circling the campsite three times looking for an open camping space, we finally settled at the only one left - one site away from the infamous generator. After getting out, and gazing downhill at the various people and animals milling around, I asked, "When was the last time you were here?"

"Well, it was when S. was 15," Beau mumbled.

"Wait a minute, what?" *J. calculates in her head* "That was 15 years ago!"

"Yeah, I guess it was."

"Oh, Beau."

As you can imagine, there has been some development in the past 15 years, and though Montana may not have grown at the breakneck speed that I've witnessed in Arizona, no giant, gorgeous lake is going to stay Beau's little secret for that amount of time. So, in this day in time, it was time to share the beauty.

So, I pitched the tent (along with air bed and blue blanket), and after Beau created a *cough* diminutive fire, we had a wonderful dinner of steak, brats, beans, and corn-on-the-cob, along with some nice Australian wine.

And despite the crowd (most people had cleared out by the next morning), it is still a rather breathtaking lake, and I am happy we got a chance to see it. It may no longer be secluded, but at least it's now OUR special place.