I had been looking forward to this trip for some time. I would consider this to be our first “adventure” themed family vacation, in contrast to our typical lay on the beach and waste away trips, which are nice for the first day or two but can quickly become boring and predictable. We planned to stay near Kalispell, MT and spend most of our time hiking in Glacier National Park. Trip dates were Tuesday, August 27 to Sunday, September 1.
Day 0: we made it!
I was lucky enough to have a direct flight from ORD to FCA, and even luckier to have the same flight to FCA as my parents, who were stopping at ORD from BUF for their connection. Although my parents’ takeoff from BUF had been delayed by a bit, they landed with plenty of time to spare. I made it through security and met up with them at our gate to make sure they were alive and functional. They passed my cursory evaluation.
We took off for FCA and landed as scheduled. FCA looks and smells like a Cabela’s. Maybe it’s the wood finish or maybe it’s the dead animals on the wall. Who knows. We got our luggage and found our rental car via Turo. We hopped in and headed to Columbia Falls to kill some time before Tori’s flight got in. We stopped at Lary’s Fly and Supply (yes, it’s one r) on Nucleus where I picked up some floatant, desiccant, and dries of which they had a good selection. We then walked to the end of the main drag and back to Outlaw Diner for lunch which had good food and fast service.
Between shopping and lunch, we had killed enough time so that Tori’s flight was just getting in. We swung by FCA to grab her and then stopped by Super 1 Foods for groceries. The place would probably be considered to be a dump by people who are used to Wegmans but for those who grew up in the Midwest, the Super 1 would likely meet their expectations for a run-of-the-mill grocery store. We ultimately found most of what we needed and hit the road. We made a quick stop at the Jesus factory on HWY 2 to immerse ourselves in all things Christ and to remind ourselves that through Him, with Him, and in Him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is yours almighty Father, forever and ever. Amen.
We were staying at Black Bear Cabin owned by Duane and Donna Byrd which is located at 625 Old Spotted Bear Rd. We cruised up the well-maintained gravel road and were pleasantly surprised by quality of our rental. Inside, we found a clean kitchen fully stocked with everything you would need for home-cooked meals (pots, pans, utensils, etc.). The master bathroom and second full bath were clean and stocked with shampoo etc. The master bedroom and two additional bedrooms were also clean with fresh linens and plenty of towels for washing up. There was even a grill on the back patio along with a table and bonfire pit (bonfires are illegal July-Aug in MT). The rental was on the pricier side but as they say, you get what you pay for, and in my opinion, we got our money’s worth.
We were anxious to get out in the woods, so we decided to head to West Glacier for a short evening hike but before we could even leave the cabin, we got our first taste of Montana wildlife. Peering at us from the field only few steps from the front door was a bull elk in velvet.
Anxious to get out into the woods, we set off to West Glacier to get a look inside the park and take a short hike if we were able to find one. It’s important to note that vehicle passes are needed to get into the park (I think between 6 am and 6 pm). A portion of these passes become available 120 days or approximately four months in advance, while remaining vehicle passes become available at 7 pm MDT for next-day entry.
We pulled up to the park entrance at West Glacier, flashed the pass my mom had purchased 120 days prior, and drove up to Oxbow Trail, a ~1 mile out-and-back along McDonald Creek.
The trail was flat and very easy to follow. It offered some nice views of McDonald Creek, which meandered along with crystal clear water. We made it to the oxbow and finally to the end of the trail at which point Tori gasped and grabbed my mom to duck backwards. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “There’s a bear!” They exclaimed. I walked a few feet up past them and sure enough, a small black bear was rummaging through the brush on the other side of the trail, seemingly unbothered and uninterested in us. Tori managed to get a picture and video of the little fellow as he scampered along.
We finished the hike, hopped in the car, and then headed up the west side of Lake McDonald via Fish Creek Campground Rd. We pulled the car into a small lot and climbed down to the shore of the lake to explore. We were met with stunning views of clouds and fog against a mountainous backdrop. We snapped a few pics and began to head back, at which point the sky opened up. We made it to the car just in time to avoid getting completely soaked.
It was a round 7 pm at this point, so on our drive home, we put in for a vehicle entry pass for the Many Glacier. Luckily, Tori was able to secure one, which would allow us to enter the park at the Many Glacier entrance on Wednesday, providing access to many of the highly rated hiking trails the park has to offer.
Day 1: Assberg Lake
On Wednesday, we set out at around 7:30 am for Many Glacier. Our initial plan was to hike Iceberg Lake Trail, which can be accessed via the Swiftcurrent Trailhead area. On our way out of the neighborhood, we again spotted the bull elk, this time with others in tow.
The drive to Many Glacier is a little under 2.5 hrs from Martin City but took us a little over 2.5 hrs because I’m a shithead and missed the exit for RT 49 North so we ended up driving through Browning, which costed us around 15-20 extra minutes. It’s good to note though that if the weather is bad, the route up through Browning could be better because it avoids the narrow and winding cliffside passages on RT 49.
We noticed some weather passing through the park to our west during the drive but didn’t let it discourage us. We pulled into the lot across from Swiftcurrent Motor Inn at around 9:45 am. We got out of the car and were greeted by chilly temps in the low forties and light rain, so I dressed a bit heavier than I had originally planned (long sleeve shirt, quarter zip, jacket, and raincoat). We walked up the loop to Iceberg Ptarmigan Trailhead and were on our way.
Compared to some other trails, Iceberg Lake Trail is a bit on the longer side, but the gradient is pretty shallow. Only a few minutes into our hike, we were met with nice views of the surrounding mountains. The trail is quite open in most areas, which ultimately proved to be a double-edged sword.
About a half hour into our hike, the intermittent light rain transitioned to intermittent light rain and snow, with temperatures probably around 40. At this point, I felt great. I was shedding layer after layer as I began to warm up, down to just my shirt and raincoat at one point. I enjoyed the snow, as it was the first time I had ever seen it in August.
This first part of the hike was a bit reminiscent of my childhood. A long time ago, we had a vast expanse of woodland bordering our neighborhood (which has since been developed). I used to explore these woods with my neighborhood friends, ambling aimlessly around to see what we could find. The sights and smells I experienced on this hike reminded me of the days I spent exploring those woods in late fall/early winter. Nowadays, I spend a good amount of time in the outdoors when I go fishing, but rarely do I wander around the woods for the sake of wandering around the woods like I did when I was a boy.
We made it to Ptarmigan Falls around 11:20 am. The falls provides nice views of the valley created by Ptarmigan Creek and the valley below. At this point, wet snow was falling pretty heavily but I was still mostly dry. Boy would that change.
Shortly after Ptarmigan Falls, the trail splits off to either Iceberg Lake (2.3 miles I think) or Ptarmigan Lake (1.6 miles I think) which you can then use to continue to Ptarmigan Tunnel. We contemplated our options and ultimately decided to head up to Iceberg Lake (which I had my mind set on the whole time anyway). On the way we passed two hikers who mentioned that some mountain goats were visible on the cliffside. We ended up spotting them, but it was difficult to get a good picture.
About halfway to Iceberg Lake (from Ptarmigan Falls), things took a bit of a turn for the worse. The heavy wet snow was now beginning to soak through to my skin, and I was getting a bit chilly. The wind was also picking up, which felt extra good in the cold and wet conditions.
I was perpetually ahead of my parents and sister for most of the hike, so I pulled off and waited so we could gather and discuss. My mom had pretty much had it at this point. I knew that if I was cold, she must’ve been freezing her ass off. I said we should walk until we found Iceberg Creek, because it was about halfway between where we were and the lake. Based on this time estimate, we could then estimate how long it would take to get to the lake.
We trudged onward, the snow and wind picking up in intensity. About five minutes later we made it to Iceberg Creek, at which there is a wooden footbridge that had by now accumulated a layer of slush. We kept onward and eventually made it to the shores of Iceberg Lake about five minutes later. However, we couldn’t see the water until we were practically standing in it due to the whipping winds, heavy snow, and fog.
It was nearly impossible to see anything more than a few feet in any direction, outside of breaks in the wind that offered brief windows of slightly better visibility. We snapped a couple pics of our sorry asses standing in front of the lake. The wind and snow were so strong that I couldn’t turn my head upwind because my skin felt like it was getting sandblasted. The wind even blew Tori’s tripod over. I briefly relished the moment. Being at the top of the mountain in the cold whipping winds and driving snow made me feel alive.
The others had no desire to stay any longer than was absolutely necessary, so we booked ass down the mountain. On the way, the snow gradually turned into rain, with temps probably in the low to mid-thirties. The rain had now soaked through my boots and my feet were sloshing around. My Patagonia rain jacket did a decent job of keeping my upper body mostly dry, but all the rain that had run off my jacket funneled right into my butt and crotch, which were now soaked. My mom had told me to bring waterproof pants, but I left them home thinking I wouldn’t need them. People don’t usually tell me I’m a good listener.
We hardly stopped on the way down, but I managed to snap a few pics. We finally made it to the trailhead, soaking wet and freezing cold. The last time I remembered being that wet and cold was when I played football as a kid. Back in the day, I used to try and stick my thumb between my pinkie and ring finger to gauge how cold I was. This time, my thumb was able to make it about ¾ of the way, which was quite a bit better than a lot of times I remember as a kid. Guess I’ve gotten soft in my old age.
We stopped at the Swiftcurrent Motor Inn to warm up and grab some coffee, which was lukewarm and funny tasting. Because of our experience on the trail and in the restaurant, I started a petition to change the name of Iceberg Lake to Assberg Lake. Unfortunately, I was only able to get four signatures.
After we regained some semblance of functionality in our hands, we hit the road. This time, I succeeded in getting us onto RT 49. However, the ride was a bit nerve wracking due to the cliffside twists and turns. In addition to the risk of falling to our deaths, we also had to watch out for wildlife, including a rogue herd of cattle that had escaped from their ranch.
Day 2: Recovery
We got a late start on Thursday, still a bit battered from our arctic expedition the day prior. Our plan was to hike Avalanche Lake, one of the park’s most popular trails. To get there, we needed a pass that would allow us onto Going-to-the-Sun Rd, which my mom had purchased (in addition to the pass that allows us to get into the park). We got into the park at around 9:30 am and then to the entrance of Going-to-the-Sun Rd at around 9:45 am. There was a line of cars about a quarter mile long leading up to the entrance, where the park services woman checked our pass and informed us that the road was closed just past the Avalanche Lake Trailhead due to the recent winter weather. We figured we were screwed because in addition to all the people who planned on hitting Avalanche Lake, anyone who had plans to drive past Avalanche up to Logan Pass had probably also stopped at Avalanche for the day.
We carried on up the road and found what we expected: cars piled up at Avalanche Trailhead like salmon at a dam. The parks services guy instructed us to turn around and find parking farther away on the east side of Lake McDonald because the number of parked cars far exceeded the lots’ capacities.
A bit bummed, we carried on southward down the east side of Lake McDonald until we found parking near Jackson Creek. We checked our maps (yes, paper maps) and saw some shorter hikes available nearby via the Gunsight Pass Trailhead. We settled on hiking to Fish Lake, so we walked up Lake McDonald to the trailhead.
I was a bit excited for the hike because I thought there was a chance I’d get to do some fishing. I had transferred most of my fishing gear to my hiking bag because we had originally planned on hiking Avalanche Lake, which I read up on and knew fished well. What I didn’t know was whether Fish Lake held fish. I thought there was a good chance the lake would be at least fishable given that every other lake in the park seemed to be. I should’ve kept my expectations lower.
We embarked on our second “real” hike of the trip at around 11 am. The trail led us past a horse stable and then up a much steeper gradient than the trail up to Assberg. Fortunately, the trail provided a few nice views of Lake McDonald and the surrounding mountains, which looked quite different in the sunshine than it had in the snow and rain a couple days prior.
We crossed a few creeks with footbridges before descending upon Fish Lake at around 12:30 pm. When I was finally able to catch a glimpse of the water, I saw lily pads, and my excitement quickly turned to disappointment.
We continued our descent down to the lake shore, which I discovered was mostly surrounded by a marsh. At this point, I realized the place was pretty much unfishable, at least from shore. This was no alpine lake, it was a fricken bass pond.
Although I wasn’t able to fish, I was able to enjoy some sunshine and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. We snapped a few pics and were on our way back down the trail. Fish Lake was the biggest disappointment of the trip for me.
We eventually made it back down to the shores of Lake McDonald around 2:30 pm, where we sat for a bit watching the water and discussing our plans for the rest of the afternoon. We decided to see if the rest of Going-to-the-Sun Rd had opened given that it had been warm and sunny all day. Sure enough, it had, so we set off to check out the visitor center at Logan Pass.
The drive up to Logan Pass was a white knuckler. The narrow roadway and cliff on the north/west bound side of the road were enough to make most people’s stomachs turn. However, the drive did provide some spectacular views, though the pictures we took never seemed to do them justice.
We made it to the visitor center around 4 pm. The center has restrooms (no sinks), some wildlife displays, and souvenirs. We shopped around for a bit before walking the paved pathway around to Hidden Lake Trailhead, which unfortunately was closed due to the weather and bear activity. We snapped a few pics before heading back home for the evening.
Day 3: Sardines on the fly.
My dad and I planned to fish the first half of Friday. I decided to try the Middle Fork of the Flathead River based on some research I had done in the days prior. I considered several factors in this decision including proximity to where we were staying, expected quality of the fishery (both fish size and numbers), probability of running into other anglers, ease of walking/wading/casting, and scenery. To gauge the quality of the fishery, I read some articles online including a few helpful posts on Big Sky Fishing.com. To gauge scenery and how easy the stream would be to navigate, I used Google Maps satellite view. The satellite view also allowed me to decide whether to walk upstream or downstream from the access site and what kind of water to expect (ex. runs, pools, flats, etc.).
We left around 8:00 am. It was about a 50-minute drive to the access point near the mouth of Bear Creek. We got there around 9 am and suited up. It was a pretty still morning, with temps in the low fifties. We walked upstream of the mouth of Bear Creek to the first run. The run is just downstream of a sharp bend in the river with a deep pool (like 10+ feet deep). I surveyed the crystal-clear water for a few minutes without seeing a single rise.
I came prepared with two rods, one with a dry fly and the other with a streamer. I had my dad work the run with the dry fly while I worked the deeper pool with a streamer. I quickly realized I wasn’t getting down deep enough, so I threw on my sink tip. We worked the run and adjacent pools for about an hour with no signs of life. I started to panic.
I headed farther upstream to a similar feature: a riffle spilling into a pool that shallowed out into a run. I found an area that I thought would be deep enough to hold fish with enough room to comfortably backcast. I was getting desperate, so I set my dad up with a pheasant tail nymph under a bobber. He had gained a good amount of experience with this type of rig during steelhead season, so I was reasonably confident he’d be able to fish it well. I let him work the upper area while I worked the lower.
About ten minutes later, he yelled over to me, and I looked upstream to see him fighting a fish. I excitedly ran over with the net to land the decent size whitefish. The relief was immense. We successfully escaped a skunking. Dad had saved the day.
With the skunk off our backs, our next goal was to catch a cutthroat. I made my way over to the other side of the river to see if changing my casting angle would change my luck. No sooner did I make it over there than my dad had another fish on. I rushed back across the creek to net his fish. Lo and behold, it was the cutthroat we came for.
Without any reason to leave the spot, we fished it for about another hour. I saw fish rising on the far current seam, so I threw on a dry. It was hard to get a good drift with the changing water speed across the stream and the ten plus yards of line I had out, but I did manage to get two takes, none of which stuck unfortunately. My dad bagged a couple more whitefish before we moved downstream to hit the pools and runs we started at before packing it in for the day.
On the walk back to the car, I reflected on the experience a bit. The Middle Fork of the Flathead is essentially a scaled-up version of Clear Creek, a small inland trout stream I fish in the upper Cattaraugus Creek system. Although the major pools on the Middle Fork are much deeper than those at Clear Creek, they were equally difficult to fish and unproductive as those at Clear Creek. The water clarity on the Middle Fork pretty much matched that of Clear Creek, and the fish on the Middle Fork were scaled in size pretty much according to what I would expect for a larger version of Clear Creek.
I ruminated on my decision to fish where we did. The evening prior, we stopped by Duane’s lodge to pick up a can of bear spray. My dad told him we were planning on fishing, and he asked if we had a guide, to which we replied no and that we were planning on fishing the Middle Fork by foot. He said that sounded fine and that the North Fork was another option. From what I read online, fishing on the North Fork could be spotty in the summer months. The article also mentioned that there wasn’t much room for backcasting in some spots, which I knew would have been problematic for my dad. Also, via Maps, it initially looked like the North Fork would’ve been a bit more of a drive than the Middle Fork, however, the article I read on Big Sky Fishing.com mentioned that the fishing on the Middle Fork was generally better above Essex, so our drive to the Bear Creek access point was actually significantly longer than it would have been to some of the access points on the North Fork (which were only about a 30 minute drive from where we were staying).
I had all this information available to me the night before, but I stuck to my guns given the spotty fishing and potential backcasting problems mentioned in the Big Sky article about the North Fork. The key tradeoff though was time on the water, which weighed heavily on my mind because I knew time was going to be a key constraint and the North Fork would have potentially offered us an additional 40 minutes of fishing.
In all, I didn’t necessarily think that I made the wrong move, but I acknowledged that I probably could’ve made a better one. When I was flying home, the kid working TSA at FCA asked me how I did fishing, so I told him it was fine. He said he had been out to the North Fork the day prior on his friend’s raft and that he had a good day. Then, after landing in O’Hare, another kid approached me who had the same connection to Buffalo that my parents did. He asked how the fishing was, and I told him it was fine. He said that he loved floating the North Fork. From all the conversations I had with people, it seemed the North Fork was more popular, but comparing my success to theirs was apples-to-oranges because I was wading and they were floating, which allows them to cover probably ten times the water I’m able to on foot and access areas that I can’t.
The kid at O’Hare also told me that he was originally from Buffalo and that he was building a house in Columbia Falls. He said he loved it out in Montana, fishing in the summer and skiing in the winter. He said it was beautiful out there and then asked if I fish back home in Buffalo at places like Burt Dam and Oak Orchard. I told him that I fish back home and that I had been to those places but left it at that.
After all my experience fishing out west, which isn’t a ton (Colorado, Idaho, and Montana), I still think WNY provides the best fishing in the country and perhaps even the world. Sure, maybe the scenery is better out west, but doesn’t catching the same ten-inch cutthroat over and over get old? In NY, I’ve caught brown trout, steelhead, rainbow trout, brook trout, king salmon, Coho salmon, Atlantic salmon, longnose gar, channel catfish, pike, smallmouth bass, largemouth bass, sunnies, carp and more on the fly. World-class musky and lake trout fishing on the fly are also available here in Buffalo. I don’t know anywhere in the world that can match the above, but I guess better scenery and ten inch trout make up for it?
We got back to the cabin around 2:30 pm. Our original plan was to spend the afternoon and evening in Whitefish, but instead, we chose to try and hike Avalanche Lake. We got to the trailhead around 3:30 pm, which was a bit later than we had hoped given that passes aren’t needed for Going-to-the-Sun Rd after 3 pm. Of course, the place was packed with cars, but we were lucky enough to find a VIP parking spot in a small lot on the east side of the road.
We began our ascent to Avalanche at around 4 pm. The trail has a steeper gradient compared to some of the other trails but is on the shorter side and is overall a pretty easy hike. We snapped a few pics on the way up as the trail provides some nice views of the adjacent mountains and runs along a very narrow canyon for part of its length.
We made it to the lake around 5 pm and quickly discovered why the trail was so popular. The views of Avalanche Lake were amazing. The crystal-clear lake was like a giant mirror reflecting the rugged mountain backdrop. Farther down the lake, I could see small ripples radiating outward from rising fish.
We walked farther up the southwest side of the lake to find shoreline that was less crowded. I looked out to find the water boiling with rising fish, some only a few yards from shore. I was pretty spent from the fishing earlier, but with a little convincing from everybody, I decided to bust out the fly rod for one last go.
I had left my floatant and desiccant in the car but thankfully had some dries in my bag. I threw on my go to size 14 caddis and ripped a cast out as far as I could. No more than ten seconds after my fly hit the water, I got smacked. Holy shit, these are the dumbest trout I’ve ever seen. After a short fight on my five wt rod, I had the fish in. It was a beautiful cutthroat.
I ripped a couple more casts out and bam, another fish. I realized after the first fish that I should’ve crimped the barb on my fly, which I did, but apparently not well enough because removing the hook on this fish was equally difficult. After I got the fish on his way, I made sure to crimp the barb as hard as I could. Any time I’m fishing catch-and-release (which is pretty much always), I crimp my barbs. I think it’s especially important to do so in places like this where the fish are wild and even more so when the fish are inhaling your flies like these ones were.
I had been fishing for about ten minutes by now and my feet were starting to get cold. I had waded out to about knee deep in water that couldn’t have been any warmer than 40 °F. I hooked one last fish and handed the rod over to Tori. She reeled it in no problem, and we snapped a few pics before I packed up my gear and we headed back down the mountain.
For dinner we stopped at Gunsight Saloon in Columbia Falls. I got the Chix & Sausage Jambalaya and was not disappointed. Everybody seemed to enjoy their meal that night.
Day 4: Winding down
On our last full day, we drove up to Whitefish to explore the town. We walked up and down the main drag to pick up some souvenirs and stopped by Lakestream Fly Shop, where I picked up a few more dries and a hat.
After exploring the city, we headed up to Chair 1 Big Mountain Express, a ski lift that runs in the summer and takes you up to a lodge with drinks and food. It was a gorgeous day with temps in the low seventies and sunny skies so the ride up was quite nice. We got some drinks at the top and took in the view. The lodge was a bit dingy and smelled like feet, which met my expectations. The ride down provided nice views of the surrounding area including Whitefish Lake.
We stopped at Blackstar Brewpub for lunch. I got a double cheeseburger which was close to $20 without any sides. The place was essentially a grossly overpriced McDonald’s, but I figured everything in Whitefish was probably pricey. On the way back to the cabin, we stopped at The Huckleberry Patch and picked up a huckleberry pie.
Tori had yet to close her rings that day, so she was in the mood to get some exercise. The only real hike available close to where we were staying was Apgar Lookout, which is near the south end of Lake McDonald. After entering the park at West Glacier, we drove a few miles down the rough dirt road to the trailhead. The parking area was empty save a family with some young kids who were packing up for the day. It was around 5:45 pm at this point.
I tried to live as much in the moment as possible on this hike because I knew it was our last one. The evening was beautiful with minimal wind and temps in the mid-seventies. The sun casted its golden rays across the mountainside.
The hike starts out pretty much flat before beginning a steep ascent to the top of the mountain via three long switchbacks. We made it probably halfway up the first switchback when my parents (specifically my mom) lost interest. The flat leg of the hike is entirely tree covered and much of the first switchback also has significant tree cover, so the views weren’t great up to that point. My parents decided to head back to the car while Tori and I continued to onward and planned to meet them back at the car when we were finished. We made it a little farther along the first switchback and the views improved substantially.
At this point, I was free to embrace my inner mountain goat. I pranced up the mountain, marinating in the sun’s rays which felt quite warm at that point, so warm in fact that I took my shirt off and still ended up sweating through my backpack straps.
The hike was anything but easy. The steep grade was unrelenting for the duration of our ascent. Tori kept up quite well but also started losing interest. I was steaming hot, but it felt great. I kept onward thinking the trail would level out in just a few more steps, but it never did. We made it about 3.3 miles into the 3.6 mile hike when Tori suggested that we didn’t have to finish it. I honestly wanted to make it to the top, but I knew the views wouldn’t be any better than what we had previously seen and that we had plans for a birthday celebration that evening, so I suggested we stop a little further up to snap some pictures before turning back. Although this hike probably wasn’t memorable for anybody in my family, I won’t soon forget the evening I spent running up Apgar.
We flew down the mountain and made it to the car in an hour (our descent started at 7:01 and we made it to the car at 8:00 pm). We drove on back to the cabin for some dinner and huckleberry pie, which we stuck some candles in for our mini birthday celebration for my dad and Tori, who had turned 60 and 29 in July.
As the evening wound down, inklings of despair began to arise in me. I packed up most of my things while the others turned in for the night.
Day 5: Heading home
On the last day, I awoke with a sinking feeling in my stomach. It had all gone by so fast, like crazy fast. The first couple days of vacation usually go by slowly before the time warp kicks in and it’s over. Not this one though, every day flew by. First it was 7 am, then 9 am, then 1 pm, then 9 pm seemingly in the blink of an eye. I knew I would miss the sights, smells, and sensations of the wild. The woods bring me a sort of peace that’s hard to come by nowadays. I anticipated the Zen I had garnered over the past five days would carry over about a day or two into my return to the concrete jungle. I was right.
We had a bit of time to kill before our flights departed, so we waltzed over to Duane’s house to feed his chickens some scraps of food we had left over. They were quite voracious birds, running around the pen stealing food from each other. They didn’t cluck the way I had expected, but instead made some sort of noise between a squawk and a purr. Anyhow, the experience was interesting.
We stopped by The Huckleberry Patch to grab a few souvenirs for family and friends on the way to the airport. By 12:30 pm, we were back at FCA saying our goodbyes (well to Tori at least).
Our flights departed mostly on time, and that evening I made it back to my ordinary world: the mundanity of daily commutes, errand running, predictable interactions with coworkers, the whole nine yards. Gone were the days of unpredictability, romping around the woods in the rain or snow or sun, stumbling upon bears, elk, deer, and other sorts of wild animals. Gone were the mornings spent deciding where to explore.
I’m working on appreciating the time I spent in Montana with my family instead of focusing on my desire for more. It’s hard to be happy it happened rather than to be sad that it’s over. I appreciate all the time and effort that my parents had put into planning the trip; all the passes they had to buy on all the different timelines, figuring out which parts of the park to target, where to stay, etc. I kind of felt like a freeloader, having contributed hardly anything more than a few wrong directions.
I also couldn’t believe how well my parents fared on the trip. Our first full day up at Assberg Lake was the real deal. It was a long hike in tough conditions, led by my sister and I, who are obviously on the younger side and in pretty good shape. My parents didn’t complain much if at all, not even my mom whom I’m sure was experiencing her personal hell with the rain and snow. Keeping up with Tori and me is no easy feat, yet they did it.
I don’t know if we’ll have another trip like this in the future, but I do that we need to appreciate the times like these that we spend together because they ain’t gonna last forever. I feel like I made the most of this particular opportunity, which I guess is the most important thing.