The National Park system is not what we were expecting as we traveled through Glacier and Yellowstone National Parks. There are tons of people who stop at the thought of seeing wildlife while everyone behind them is slamming on their brakes (the whole break light issue didn’t seem to be a problem, probably because we were more interested in getting out of the parks than seeing the ‘wildlife’), dogs literally aren’t allowed out of campgrounds or off of paved roads and the scenery and wildlife is equally spectacular outside of the parks. Needless to say we didn’t spend more time than we had to in either Glacier or Yellowstone.
After leaving our hospitable northern Idahoan, we continued along Hwy 2 and into Montana, another state, another high-five and a new time zone. This is the first time Jessica has been out of the Pacific Time zone in the continental United States and every mile east is one mile further than she has traveled in her 21 years. Soon after crossing into Montana I spotted a ranger station and I thought we should see if we could get any local information on camping in Glacier or nearby or any other interesting sights to see in Big Sky Country. I’ve never understood is why they call it Big Sky Country, the sky doesn’t look any bigger in Montana than any other state I’ve ever been to. We stopped in and picked up lots of free Smokey the Bear paraphernalia, a state map with lots of places to camp across the state and some brochures of some interesting things to see before we hit the Park.
About thirty miles after the ‘Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires’ station we saw the sign to the Swinging Bridge over the Kootenai River. “Why not?” we reasoned, we were up early and making decent time, “Could be interesting.” I convinced Jessica. We were into our first major climb in the van, too, so I thought it would be good to let her cool down for a bit and us too after Chris, our Spokane mechanic, said it would be a good idea to keep the heat on in the van to help keep the engine temperature down. What a great idea if the outside temperature is below freezing but when it’s over 80 degrees and you have the heat on high and the fan blowing full blast it gets a little sticky, especially when your climbing the foothills of the northern Rocky Mountains at a blistering 30 mph. Down the trail, trying to get our shorts unstuck from our legs due to the sweat, we crossed some railroad tracks on a footbridge that we had to climb three stories of metal stairs to get to and one of the most entertaining dog walking styles I’ve ever seen Juno take on the metal grates of the stairs, down some more trails and we could see the Kootenai River. Juno made her own trail down to the aqua blue water while Jessica and I found the actual trail to a beautiful rocky beach. We took a few pictures, Juno cooled down in the river and I spotted the infamous Swinging Bridge about a half-mile down the river. It’s infamous because as our brochure pointed out the movie ‘The River Wild’ with Kevin Bacon and Meryl Streep was filmed there.
We continued down the trail and found the bridge, climbed the twenty feet or so to the span, and I led the way. Now, it’s called the Swinging Bridge, so I figured I’d find out why. Jessica and Juno were not quite as curious and I could tell this by the profanities Jessica was yelling at me and the way Juno was hunkered down, practically belly crawling her way across as I jumped on the three rows of 2x8’s that lined the surface. We all made it safely across and wandered around the other side of the river, took a few more photos and headed back for the van. I gave the bridge another good bouncing and Jessica gave me a few more profanities. We made it back to the van and took off for Glacier National Park.
At the entrance to the park we were greeted by a friendly older lady in her official parks service khaki shirt and full brimmed hat who was waiting to collect our money for the opportunity to drive very slowly for several hours and be harassed about having a dog. America doesn’t seem so free with the number of rules and fees imposed at this ‘National Treasure”. We paid $80 for a year pass to all of the National Parks in the country, thinking it would be a good thing to have since we’re planning on seeing lots of these great places. The nice grey-haired lady gave us a map and some other information, commented on the van and said, “My husband and I have one we bought a few years ago.” “They’re great, aren’t they?” I responded. “I think its been with the mechanic more than with us so far.” She replied. I smiled and said, “They can do that, but they’re lots of fun when they work.” She smiled and told us to enjoy the park.
I had been telling Jessica how scary the road to the top is, how narrow it is and how steep it is looking down the mountain side and you have to pass big motor homes and how the guard rail is a joke, about 18 inches of stone between you and a 4000 foot drop. Once we were on the Going to the Sun Road it really wasn’t as terrifying as I remember, maybe because we’ve been on some pretty crazy roads in Oregon and California or maybe because I didn’t have my brother-in-law John white knuckling the door of the car as it snowed on us the first time I made the drive. We were also constantly behind really slow drivers, if I can catch another vehicle on a climb in the van I can justify calling them really slow, and we had to stop for construction several times. Apparently the snow and ice the park gets for seven or more months a year takes a little toll the road. We stopped at the top, Logan Pass, Juno ate some snow out of one of the ten-foot high snow banks and we started to walk up to the visitor center when we saw our first ‘No Dogs Past This Point’ sign. Well, I guess they’re not getting our money, I thought and we got back in the van to head down to find some camping east of the continental divide in the park. More construction and waiting to be pilot car’d through, we got to the bottom and saw our first camp site.
We pulled in and noticed it was nearly evening, if we stopped and stayed we might finally have a chance to eat before 9 pm. We went into the lodge/store/gift shop to try and find a sticker to decorate the Rocket Box atop the van. After picking one we overheard the tourist ahead of us at the checkout asking for shower tokens. Jessica’s ears perked up and inquired when it was our turn in line. “$2.50 for 8 minutes, they’re out back.” Seeing as she hadn’t showered since Spokane she was ready and we didn’t know when our next opportunity would be so she bought one for each of us. We drove around the parking lot to the campsite and were greeted by the camp host. After rattling off a myriad of rules, several of which referred to the dog and one in particular that really bothered me, no collecting fire wood, “It’s a National Park and everything in it is protected, we have fire wood for sale but it’s a little pricy.” She said, “It’s $20 for the night and there’s only a few spots left.” We said we would take a look around. We drove the loop, saw the few remaining spots and decided we’d shower and head to the next camp ground on the map.
Pulling around back of the store we found the showers, well, one shower for the guys and one shower for the girls. Needless to say with a full campground and few showers there was a line for both. We both waited for nearly a half hour to get our eight minutes of hot water in a three by three foot shower and hurried down to the next campground. Now at least we’re clean but getting a little cranky because we haven’t eaten anything substantial since Idaho the next campground was equally as full but mostly RV’s, no decent spots left, few trees, the same restrictions and this one was $22 a night. We made a quick loop and left the park. Looking at the maps there were no other camping opportunities for 60 miles or so and I proposed we camp along the road somewhere quiet and leave early. Jessica isn’t a big fan of the idea but we’re both so turned off by our glorious National Park that she begrudgingly agrees. A few miles out of the park there’s a sign for a campground. I pass it and Jessica says, “What are you doing?” Not up for an argument I turn the van around, she checks the map and sees the spot, down a dirt road for five miles and back into Glacier. A few bumpy miles in there are a dozen or more wild horses in the road, they’re moving about the speed of traffic the rest of the park tourists were going but soon headed into the open prairie, another mile and more horses. We smile at each other, Juno is going crazy in the back, we cross a cattle guard and we’re back in the Park. There’s only a handful of campsites, most of which are vacant and it’s in the trees, near a creek and there’s no Nazi Park Rangers to hassle us. We have our pick of sites, back in to one, start collecting half burned fire wood from the other vacant sites, start a fire, pop the top on the van and search for what to make for dinner.
I open the van’s refrigerator, which is operating flawlessly, and quickly spot our ground elk meet from Jill. “How do elk burgers sound?” I ask Jessica. “We better eat it before it goes bad.” She gives me a worried look, “I’ve never had elk.” She confesses, “What do we do with it?” “It’s just like beef, but leaner. I’ve never had it either but I’ve heard it’s good. Do you want to make the burgers and I’ll get the bbq ready? I’m starving.” I say. Jessica tears into the package, adds some seasoning, and starts turning out patties. She makes me the biggest burger I’ve maybe ever eaten, I fire up the bbq and throw them on. They cook great, smell great, and were very tasty. We even have two left over for lunch. Thanks Jill.
As we finish dinner two couples pull in with Florida license plates and camp next to us. The first thing they do is let their dogs out and then proceed to chop down a tree for firewood. Apparently they haven’t seen the National Park bylaws but at least we don’t feel so bad about letting Juno off her leash to play. They aren’t very social so we play some cards by ourselves and get to bed under a brilliant forest canopy with millions of stars shining through. Maybe the National Parks aren’t so bad.
The sun wakes us early, we make huckleberry pancakes, thanks again Jill, and decide to take a little hike into the park before we head down to Yellowstone. With Juno off her leash we walk through the campground to the trailhead. Juno takes off to chase something in the prairie grass and we run into one of Glacier’s finest in her full brimmed hat. “Is that your dog?” She asks, looking at the white furry with her head now buried in a hole after a mighty pounce. “Oh, yeah, I’ll put her leash on.” I respond. Foiled again. The Park Ranger explains that dog’s aren’t welcome on the park trails, yadda, yadda, yadda, they chase the wildlife, yadda, yadda, yadda, endanger the wild dogs, yadda, yadda, yadda, she goes on. “Well, I guess we’ll be leaving then.” I tell her. I understand rules, I just don’t agree with these particular rules, I show and vent a little of my frustration and Ms. Park Ranger doesn’t seem to be too disappointed that we’re leaving. Walking back to the van I say to Jessica, “At least we get an early start.”
Back down the dirt road to the highway we spot the wild horses from the evening before grazing in the open prairie and I stop to take some pictures. Lots of very attractive equines, unafraid of me I get close enough to make some nice pictures with my point-and-shoot of the horses with the towering Rocky Mountains in the background. We hit the highway and don’t look back. We both feel a sense of relief leaving the highly restricted area and on our way to our next highly restricted area, Yellowstone National Park.
Many more miniscule towns south down the old highways of Montana. We don’t make many stops but we’re not making the kind of time we had hoped and we’re leery of trying to camp, late, in Yellowstone after our experience in Glacier so we search the map for an area to camp north of the next park. About fifty miles out of Yellowstone there are a number of campsites, we pick one down another gravel road, this time maybe seven miles or so long, and find a riverside spot to stay at. It’s been raining much of the day and after leaving the highway we think we’ve left the rain. The road and the campsite are dry, the river is very swollen though and has actually overtaken a few of the nearby campsites. We debate sleeping on the upper bunk of the van because if it rains over night the canvas top will get soaked and it takes a while in the sun to dry it out. We play it safe and it’s a good thing we do. Sometime in the middle of the night the skies open up, God goes bowling and we’re both shaken awake by the booming thunder and overly frequent lightning strikes. Rain, hail, thunder, lightning, nothing like a good nights sleep camping. An impressive show for over an hour, we finally get back to sleep. We found out later that in Billings, the nearest major city, baseball sided hail was reported to have done a considerable amount of damage to cars and houses. With the bear warning posters and signs everywhere we had everything stuffed in the van so as not to attract any so there was nothing left out and nothing to have to dry in the morning, have I said how nice it is to have the van? At least when it’s running? We slog through the mud to the outhouse, have a few granola bars and leave early again.
Down the road from the campground we noticed Chico Hot Springs on our map. Intrigued, I lobbied to check it out. Maybe we could find a place to hop in and clean off I thought. Arriving at the destination on the map we found a very chic resort, “Maybe they can tell us where to find the hot springs.” I told Jessica. Feeling out of place parking amongst all of the luxury automobiles, we walked into the resort and to the front counter. “Can I help you?” The lady behind the counter asked. “We might be in the wrong place,” I confessed, “but is there a hot spring around here?” “Yes, we have a soaking pool for guests that’s fed by the springs.” “Oh,” disappointed sounding, we obviously couldn’t afford to be guests here if we wanted to keep traveling, “Is there somewhere the general public can go?” “You can buy a day pass and use the pool.” She informs us. Hesitantly I ask how much for a day pass. “$6.50 per adult.” She says. Well, it’s more than the showers at Glacier but we get to play in the pool for a while and shower too. We buy our passes, go back to the van to get out shower stuff and suits and head to the pool. Trying hard to look like we belong there amongst all of the fat old rich ladies floating in the 100-degree plus geothermal heated pool is difficult but as the water aerobics class starts I decide to join in. The ladies seem amused, Jessica seems mortified and pretends like she doesn’t know me, slowly moving away as I try and convince her to join in the workout. Thunder and lightning ended the class and we were all ordered out of the pool. It was probably time anyway as our fingers and toes were starting to look like the raisins in the van. We hit the locker rooms, showered, and hit the road again.
After our Glacier experience we decide we’re going to see Yellowstone from the van and get out of the park. We might as well go, we paid $80 for our annual park pass and it’s a long way around at this point, maybe we’ll even see some wildlife we reason. At the park entrance we get more maps and information, choose our route and head in for what we think will be a few hour drive. We didn’t anticipate the traffic… Summer’s in full swing apparently and everyone acts as though they’ve never see anything furry with four legs. It seems every few miles there’s a traffic jam for people to stop and gape at a pair of bison, a coyote, black bears, and one especially irritating stop for a grizzly bear and two cubs. Normally I’d be excited to see such a site, out in their wild habitat, but the sixty or so cars, parked in the road with every yahoo hanging out their windows to take pictures jaded my experience. We sat for nearly twenty minutes, on an incline, which the van doesn’t like because of it’s manual transmission and lack of an operable emergency break, waiting for these bears to exit our thurofare so we can keep moving. Jessica decided to join the yahoos, hanging out the van’s window to catch a glimpse Smokey, in real life. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. The bear and it’s cubs finally crossed the highway and retreated into the woods to the disappointment of those close enough to see them and to the delight of the string of cars backed up a quarter mile behind us. Once free of the rush-hour like traffic jam we couldn’t get out of the park fast enough. The eastern part of the park was much nicer, far fewer people and we nearly doubled the 35 mph speed limit getting out.
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