I drive back to Montana in awe of the Canadian Rockies. I was there two days and I want to go back. As I enter the United States the mountain seem smaller, less dramatic.
My new basecamp for two days is Whitefish. I’ve never been here before and I walk around the downtown and depot. I check out the trains and the historic signs. There are trains blowing their whistles which is such a western sound in my mind. Tomorrow is race day and I’m not super excited about it. I’m actually looking forward to the after-race travel back to Glacier National Park and Polebridge.
Back at the hotel I rent a kayak and paddle north on the Whitefish River. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on water like this. Very relaxing and just seeing where it goes. The day was stormy and I am taking a chance that I get poured on, but worth it.
The Whitefish Half Marathon isn’t as scenic as the full marathon would have been. The half starts at the Amtrak depot downtown and runners head southeast into a residential, ranching area. The course loops around and through a park, then back into town. It is fairly flat and uneventful. The full marathon runs by the lake and close to the ski resort. I wish I trained better and ran the full.
I finish the half and I’m sore. It was perfect running weather: sunny and cool. I don’t stay around the finish. I walked back to my hotel, shower and head for the true adventure: Glacier National Park.
The plan is to spend the entire afternoon in the place I spent five days back in 1988 – Polebridge. I want to see the mercantile and explore Bowman Lake.
I drive toward Polebridge and the drive is mostly dirt road. I make the final turn and I see it. It looks so familiar. I park and walk around trying to find the hostel we stayed in and the river we played in. I don’t find the hostel and go into the mercantile to see if anyone knows about it. The woman at the counter is new and doesn’t know about a hostel that was in operation 36 years ago (ha!). The area I think it is in has no trespassing signs.
It’s okay, I buy a sweatshirt and head into the park and Bowman Lake.
The road to Bowman Lake is narrow, bumpy and not well maintained. It is slow going. But once I see the lake everything gets better. It is a cloudy day but the view is spectacular.
I’m not sure if I remember this lake but what I really remember is Numa Ridge trail to the lookout. Our group in 1988 hiked it wearing bear bells. We got to the lookout and saw the door with 200 spikes that was used to block the stairway to protect lookouts from the grizzly bears!
I also remember that once I got home years later I came across the essay from Edward Abbey, Fire Lookout – Numa Ridge in his book, The Journey Home: Some Words in the Defense of the American West.
I’VE BEEN THERE. I read his essay and just understood what he was talking about.
I don’t have enough time to hike the 11 mile round trip to the lookout, and I don’t have bear bells or spray with me. Another missed hike that I know I’ll be back to do. I do, however, hike in for about a mile, all while worrying about running into a bear and never being seen again. Instead, I do what I don’t ever seem to do in my life: I sit on a log and just watch the lake and sky.
I stay still and just watch. I think about being in this moment at Bowman Lake in Glacier National Park, Montana and how happy I am to be here in this place, again.
I drive back to Whitefish for my final night in Montana. In the morning I drive south back to Missoula and the airport.
That trip 36 years ago ignited in me the love of the west, the love of mountain and hiking, and national parks. And really, it showed me at a young age how to see the world. Sign up for a trip where you don’t know anyone and take a chance that you will see things you’ve never seen before.
I feel like this trip is a scouting mission because I want to go back to Montana and hike to the glacial lakes. Stay tuned for further adventures.
