GLACIER ROCK(S)!It was our 2nd wedding anniversary, which means we got to make one of our rare trips-o-fun in celebration. Since we had only been to Glacier National Park once, and back then the vast majority of roads were closed, we thought now was the perfect time. Besides, we may never have this chance again. I watched online with some nervousness as the tiny icons of the Glacier Park plows moved steadily along the famous and essential, "Going to the Sun" road. If they didn't get through by the July 4th weekend, the trip would be moot.
Well, they made it, hurrah! And we planned our trip. Visit the in-laws (they live right next to it), camp in the park a couple days, take a nice horseback trail ride. As typical with me in my older age, I hyper-planned it, which is weird. I've always thought of myself as rather spontaneous and figure-it-out-as-you-go-along-type gal when it comes to traveling. Sure, I always have a trusty handbook when abroad, but I never really sweated the details much.
Now I do, more and more often. It's probably part of that disease of getting older. But nowadays, I do lots and lots of research, print out tons of information, make calls, and draw up a plan. I don't always go by the plan, but I always have the plan there.
The plan this time? A) Find a camping spot that was secluded (as possible) and near water, and B) find the best horseback riding trail possible in order to secure the most perfect memory of all time!
No problem! After researching the campsites, I picked Bowman Lake, which was on the western side of Glacier and promised seclusion, a gorgeous lake, and the chance to see and hear wolves! I guess I must have flitted over the part about the bug repellent *foreshadowing*
Second, I chose Cracker Flats (ha ha) as the place for our 2-hour trail ride. Though it was on the OTHER side of Glacier, it promised a gorgeous forest, lovely lake, and pretty meadow views. Two hours didn't seem nearly long enough (*more foreshadowing*), but these rides aren't cheap.
DAY 1
On the way to Columbia Falls, Beau and J. stop off in a Thai restaurant in Kalispell that she's been wanting to try ever since they moved to Montana. By the end of the meal, the restaurant had won two distinctions in her heart: 1) Most expensive Thai restaurant EVER. This includes every Thai restaurant she went to in New York City. And 2) Crappiest Thai food EVER eaten. This includes the blanded-down version of Thai food offered in New Zealand. Beau and J. walk away unsatisfied on their tongues and in their bellies.
Beau and J. finally arrive at in-laws' place, where they chat, eventually eat some dinner, and then commence a 5-hour marathon of playing the card game Pinochle, a game at which J. does enjoy, but which she also still feels somewhat perplexed about, due to mother-in-law's screamingly illogical advice and a general lack of conveying ALL rules of the game until J. fucks one up, and then she is scathingly berated by entire group for stupidity. Good fun was had by almost all. Beau and J. attempt to sleep in guest room in bed that is somewhat comfortable, but the size of a Wheat Thin, so much grumbling and poking ensues until unconsciousness.
Day 2
All starts off well. Breakfast with the in-laws and even more Pinochle. J. finds that she's FINALLY beginning to grasp the game as a whole and enjoys it more, though she mentally grits and grinds her teeth when being verbally bitch-slapped by mother-in-law. A couple hours later, due to circumstances that shall remain tantalizingly secret, J. and Beau have a blowout of epic proportions that threatens to tear a hole in the fabric of the universe, and perhaps, actually did. More importantly, threatens to derail upcoming trip into Glacier National Park, and most of all, much-anticipated ride on horsies.
And, in a gesture that will both touch and haunt J. to her dying day, her frail father-in-law, always of giggly spirits, discovers said blowout and while J. and Beau are outside contemplating the end of the universe and each others' lives, sweet father-in-law emerges from apartment, hovers awkwardly several feet away, walking in small anxious circles, lugging his oxygen tank, while making sure not to make any direct, threatening eye contact. J., feeling like a gigantic, swollen baboon's ass, sheepishly approaches him and makes several spluttering apologizes *sniff sniff* while father-in-law generously claims it's no big deal at all and shrugs it off like all she did was sneeze.
Beau and J. talk -- never enough for J., always
too much for Beau, and finally head off to the park, with swollen eyes for J. and much relief from Beau. All goes smoothly from this point. They enter the park, begin to drive through it's fabulousness, and start the long trek north up the western side. Approaching Canada's border, they pass through what is some of the most gorgeousl...um...burnt land...that J. has ever seen. Rebirth is beautiful!After slowly tottering along the gravel for awhile longer, they finally reach their destination - Bowman Lake!
Is it secluded? Well, somewhat. Many campsites are filled, but it's rather quiet and there are no screaming kids running around. So, score! Is there water? Yes! There's a gorgeous and tranquil lake with majestic mountains which is almost a carbon copy to a lake in New Zealand J. and Beau visited! Are there wolves? Well, maybe. Didn't see 'em, didn't even hear 'em. What was seen was lots and lots of deer. White-tailed deer with giant eyes with Angelina Jolie eyelashes, inexplicably munching out of everyone's barbecue pits.That was all very nice. What was not nice was the unbelievable, Guiness Book-worthy, hyperbolic MASS of 10 billion jillion mosquitoes! Words could not possibly express how thick and annoying they were. Beau and J. completely bathe in bug repellent, and still, the unending buzz of the little fuckers assaults their ears. And despite the regular reapplication of repellent on not only skin, but also over shirts and jeans, the bombardment continues, and inexplicably, they both still receive numerous bites.
Now, having lived in Bangkok, what was formerly thought of as the Mos
quito Capital of the Globe, a place where J. suffered several bites daily, and to whom both Westerners and Thais saw as some kind of mosquito-attracting freak, AND to whom the disease of Dengue fever was bestowed upon by some g-d mosquito, she is completely shocked and appalled to find a place that makes Bangkok seem like a pansy. Her thick ponytail mimicking that of a real pony, every few seconds she gives her head a violent toss in hopes of dispelling the little pricks. Citronella candles are set up, and J. and Beau hunch as near to them as possible without setting their hair on fire.They go for a walk around the lake and then enter the beautiful forest with its narrow, occasionally bear-visited path. The mosquitoes are, impossibly, thicker here. After J. kills yet another one, which spurts blood all over her arm with its demise, the walk is given up and they return to their campsite. After making their way through a delicious, though distracting dinner of grilled burgers and
beans, and an attempt to play cards in a cloud of bloodsuckers, they finally surrender, and escape to their car, where they read Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince until it is well dark and they can dive into their 2-man tent, zipping it closed in a crazed frenzy to avoid any unwelcome guests.With no sleeping bag, and just two thick blankets between them and the hard ground (a point that Beau reminds J. about 10,000 times since she had only wanted to bring one), they huddle together uncomfortably. J. does not sleep, not much, since there seems to be a tree root somewhere under her torso and after awhile, her hips began to get sore. In addition, the temperature appears to be dropping 10 degrees every hour, and the blanket does not entirely cover her (seems to cover Beau just fine though, hrmph!). The next morning, both occupants are extremely tired and crabby, but rally together, and have the entire place packed up 30 minutes later. Fuck staying there another night!
They have over 5 hours to drive all the way on the other side of the park to reach their trail ride. Might possibly be faster by horse. They will travel along the star of the trip, the Going to the Sun road, a long and winding road up up up into the mountains and down again to the east side of the park. After first stopping at a bakery in a town of about 12, they purchase the world's most delicious pastries, scalding hot chocolate, and then are off! It's a warm day, and as they meander slowly down gravel roads and through burnt, but still lovely, forests, they talk, J. reads some more Harry Potter, and they ooh and awe at the scenery.
They finally reach and begin ascending the Going to the Sun
road and the view gets more and more spectacular with every mile. The going is somewhat slow, especially every time some poor animal finds itself on the side of the road, completely freaked out and confused by the line of cars which all stop and leap out to photograph it. A trio of mountain goats anxiously trot back and fort between the cars and the mountain, alarmed and lost, but those in the cars are thrilled, and traffic comes to a halt again.With the ever-increasing beauty, and a stomach-tumbling view down thousands of feet to the road below, Beau and J. finally reach Logan's Pass -- the pinnacle of the road, and a place covered in snow, yes, snow, and damn cold. After experiencing the pleasant morning and hot afternoon, finding themselves just two hours later in freezing cold and seeing skiers and snowboarders walking by hits them as rather surreal. They shiver back to the car and take off again. It will be very close making it to the horsies on time!
Beau and J. are now winding their way through the east side of Glacier National Park, and it is rather different than the west. Instead of the thick forests and hills, the land now flattens out into vast meadows and a turquoise-colored lake paces along their right side. Not quite as exciting or rustic as the west, but still unbelievably beautiful. They stop briefly for a touch of gas, at a criminal price per gallon, but they take it well since their trusty little Honda has not needed gas since they left Missoula until now.
They finally make it to Many Glacier and the horse corral right instructing those damn city folks how to ride a damn horse without getting themselves kill't. The next 1/2 hour is spent with Nearly Headless Nick's doppelganger. Though J. feels she has ridden enough times to get it, she still listens intently. She doesn't want to do anything stupid around Beau, former official cowpoke and breeder of paint horses. J. can hardly wait for the 2 hour ride, wishing it could have been longer, but horse riding is never cheap.
J. is given a very large, white horse named "Smoke" who is termed the bully of the group. J. continually tries to talk to him in a soothing voice and make friends, but Smoke's response is laid back ears and a general air of annoyance. J. is still convinced that horses hate her, since she can name about 1/2 dozen unfortunate incidents with the beasts. Beau think she's full of it, and that the only thought in a horse's head is, "Will this hurt me?" Beau calls horses "big babies."
The trail group, of which Beau is at the head, with J. right behind, is led by a southern belle-voiced woman named George-Anne. J. thinks this is perfect. George-Anne spends a good part of the ride shouting over her shoulder at the riders, telling jokes, offering advice, and just being silly. J. likes her very much.
The glorious ride starts off through a canopied forest which is cool and lovely, the thin trail snaking along. Any hikers along the trail must press themselves up against the foilage to avoid being trampled by awesome Smoke and othe
r said horses. The trail then opens up onto a lovely 
lake which they wind around for awhile before finally coming upon a large open meadow. J. is surprised to like the open meadow the best, especially when she made a point of going on a trail with water. J. also really liked the thought of going on a trail called "Cracker Flats." Feel free to insert a joke now. George-Anne shouts over her shoulder that the name came from a 2-year "town" of hopeful, yet doomed, gold prospectors who buried their valuables in metal cracker tins in the ground, which were discovered in great numbers many years later when the area was dug up for development. J. wonders if there could be any, as yet, unfound cracker tins with valuables that she could locate with a metal detector. Realizing that she does not have a metal detector, does not know how to find this place, a
nd will probably never return again, she quickly gives up such dreams.The trail ride loops around and goes back the way it came, through meadow, past the lake, and back into the forest. A lone hiker reports that 10 minutes back he spotted a mother bear and 2 cubs on the trail. YES! Though normally a mother bear is exactly what one does NOT want to find on a trail, all have been reassured that the trail horses are numb to all other creatures, including bears, and J. has complete trust in Smoke, who will surely defend her to the death against any pissy mother bear.
Though excited by the bear, J. is mystified by said lone hiker. If SHE was alone, in the middle of a forest only sparsely frequented by hikers or trailriders, once SHE caught sight of a mother bear, that would be it. Hike over. Return to camp. Now. Why tempt fate when all the gory stories of people running across ferocious mother bears with cubs?
After an hour and a half clomps by, J. begins to rapidly change her mind about her fantasies of all-day trail rides. Though the ride so far has been glorious, J. now begins to feel tired and achy. Her thighs hurt, her lower back hurts, and worst of all, she starts getting cramps in her legs. The kind of cramps that wake you up at night in full scream mode, as you hobble around your bedroom desperately trying loosen it up. No matter which way she flexes her foot or leg, the pain only seems to intensify and shoot up her thigh. She grits her teeth in agony waiting for a few to slowly ebb away. Suddenly, the scenery, which, let's face it, she's seen already, doesn't seem so lovely, and the thought that she would have chosen a half-day or, lord have mercy, ALL-day trail ride (if finances had allowed), now is a horrifying thought, and if she'd been Catholic, she would have crossed herself in relief.
She wants the ride to end. Now. She wants her feet on the ground. She wants to off this carnival ride. A bit later, they finally come down the trail and meander into the corral, where wranglers are there to greet them and help them off their horses. Beau gets off with ease (of course), and though J. does not need help off of Smoke, she finds once her feet hit the ground, they nearly buckle under her like a cheap lawn chair. She swears that her legs audibly scream in agony as she takes a couple cautious steps, all the while trying to look totally nonplussed. It reminds her of walking home drunk when you're trying very hard to appear totally sober and indifferent. She has no idea if she's pulling it off.
Happily, J. notices that it only takes a few more steps before the knots in her legs loosen and begin to feel good. Coming back to herself, she can't help but go and visit the other horses, standing bleary-eyed at the posts, uninterested in her attentions. Finally, Beau has to pull her away.
They drive back once again from the East to the West side of Glacier, revisiting the Going to the Sun Road, and making sure to stop once for some pie. Pie pie pie! They are both tired and pretty happy, and much reading from Harry Pott
er 6 ensues. As they reach the familiar part of the park, they admit to each other that there is no way they're going to sleep on the ground (tree roots, ow) again, and decide that maybe they will just get a nice, cheap-ass hotel instead. They haven't showered in 2 days now and are starting to really feel it.With each mile they go back and forth with their decision -- Missoula is only 3 hours away, but they're tired and dirty, and they need to look for a pick-up to buy for the big move coming up. If they stay, they could have a nice meal and relax....if they go, they could sleep in their own bed that night and use their own shower....if they stay, they could get out of this damn car!...if they go, they could be home soon! And what about those poor kitties all alone? Typically not this indecisive, they form a bizarre compromise - eat in town at a ginormous, obnoxious rib place packed with families that spill out of their booths, and then drive on home. J. is so excited, she can hardly talk, but bravely reads on, before pooping out and passing out for 30 minutes. Beau makes the whole trip behind the wheel like a true hero, and around midnight, after quick showers, they collapse into their beds for a dreamless sleep.
