I was talking with my mom Sunday evening (it was her birthday, and I try to be a good kid) when the course of our conversation reminded me; Going-to-the-Sun road in Glacier National Park would soon be closed, and not long after snowed and avalanched in for the winter.
Time to go.
The cats and dogs rain falling on me at 0550 driving out of town fell as snow above 5800′.
The cats and dogs rain falling on me at 0550 driving out of town fell as snow above 5800′.The forecast called for a 30-40% chance of rain. Future note: this is a very photogenic forecast for Glacier.
I parked at “the loop” switchback, and rode the 9 mile traverse up 2400′ to the road’s summit at Logan Pass. 50 minutes, dinking along, mouth agape as the clouds zoomed and morphed about the valleys.Destination was the Highline Trail, Granite Park chalet, and the Loop Trail back to the car, retrieve the bike, and home.
The trail reverses the course of the road, roughly holding it’s elevation through the cirques and drainages. This is a hike fraught for me with meaning. I did it when I was nine (minus the biking) on family vacation. 2-3 weeks of summer road tripping and camping every year is the most durable constant in my childhood memories, and this hike, massive and amazing that it was, has stuck in my head more vividly than all others. That summer was the last summer we had out west before my dad got cancer. We still took a trip the next summer, when he had yet to suffer substantially, but he wasn’t then up to carrying, physically or otherwise, as much as he always had.
It’s been almost two decades since I walked those trails. 7.6 miles out the traverse to the chalet, four downhill to the road. It was time.
I was so glad I went. A long drive up on a dark morning, but the snow and polymorphic light held me in thrall for the first hours.
I took, for me, a huge number of photos. This was a mangy marmot. He’s pissed he pulled duty here, rather than growing fat down in the Sierras.
This was the view I’d gone up to see. The first glance of the chalet.
It sits straight below the end of the ridge as it fades into vegetation.
Years back I was so excited to see that view! Five miles was a long way when I was nine. Dad cautioned me that it was further than it looked. Such was the case today, and that five miles only took me ninety minutes with grown up legs. I don’t remember the slog, just the excitement, and the view. I knew where to look for the chalet almost a minute before I could pick it out.I walked on over still enjoying the day, stopping as it grew closer to thank my dad. For being my dad. For teaching me to hike, and be outside, and swim, cook spaghetti on a camp stove, make tiny pancakes when we forgot a spatula, be generous, integrity, and to be generally graceful and gracious going through life. It took me a long, long time to stop being mad at him for leaving me so early . I’m no longer mad, just thankful that he gave me so much in such a short time, and very sad that he isn’t around to go hiking, and biking, and climbing, and all the things he’d have loved to be able to do. Sad that he can’t meet my wonderful wife, hear the things I’ve done, and see whom I’ve become. See the fruition of that which he made possible.
Thanks dad.
The chalet itself is gorgeous stone work, in an amazing location.
The chalet itself is gorgeous stone work, in an amazing location.
This late in the northern season, they weren’t open for tourist business, so I was unable to buy a tuna sandwich. I got one when I was nine, as far as I can recall the first I’d ever had. What motivated me to make an unlikely at such a time I cannot say. But it tasted really good, and I’ve liked tuna salad on a good dense wheat bread ever since.Hiking down the hill my mind slipped back into itself, it’s normal patterns. Future trips, gear, dinner tonight, class tomorrow, test Friday, weekend plans. I’m a big kid now, an accomplished hiker (moreso than dad ever was) and four miles downhill with 2400′ of loss is an hours work.
The presence of the extraordinary and the everyday was comforting.
Bedrock & Paradox 
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