June 25, 2002 – Tuesday
Baker City, OR to Joseph, OR
Happy Birthday to me! We treated ourselves to morning lattes and pastries at a local, non-chain shop where the fan blew such cool air that I was too cold. (I asked Brian to remind me later in the day when it got hot that I had ever been too cool.) We made it to the Oregon Trail Interpretive Center exactly when it opened at 9:00 and bought a Golden Eagle pass to stick on our National Parks pass. The Golden Eagle cost us $15 and saved us $10 immediately so it should pay for itself at other Forest Service fee sights.
I handed Brian the video camera since I usually get to film while he drives and we began our visit at a circle of representative wagons on the top of the hill. Below there was a real, live western cattle drive taking place and we captured it on video. The center itself was arranged so you would walk past displays that progressed as the Oregon Trail did, from its beginning in St Louis to this site in Baker City and beyond. The hardship and sacrifices of the more than 10,000 pioneers who rode and walked the trail was unbelievable, and many did not survive; there was a grave an average of every 80 yards along the trail. It was all so moving that I had to buy another pin (and of course it is my birthday).
Birthday lunch was another Wendy’s treat in La Grande after we had gone north through grassy flatland that was bounded on the northeast by the snowy Wallowa Mountains and the west by the Blue Mountains and Elkhorn Range, with rolling sagebrush foothills. The day grew hotter and hotter and by the time we reached Joseph, all we wanted was some shade for the cats. We found a spot by a creek on a side street in town and immediately wet down the kitties. They did not care for the process but appreciated the results. I appreciated a wade in the creek!
Leaving Herb in the shade, Brian and I took a brief, boiling hot walk through Joseph, managing to admire the bronze statues and even shop in a music store for a plastic egg shaker (for Brian) and a pocket-sized tin whistle tune book for me (did I mention that it was my birthday?). Finally we collapsed with tall iced lattes in our sweaty hands.
We decided to splurge on an actual camping space at Wallowa Lake and it bought us shade trees, visiting deer and free showers! What bliss Рwe each managed to squeeze in two showers during the 18 or so hours that we were there. For birthday dinner Brian fixed me garlic cashew ramen noodles with saut̩ed veggies and we uncorked a bon-voyage bottle of Gewurz from Ashland friends, Butch and Marsha McBaine. Brian had hiked to the nearby convenience store for ice to chill the wine, fancy mixed nuts for appetizer and a fluffy, cool Jell-O dessert.
After our feast we strolled to the lake, which was peaceful in the early evening. We skipped a few stones before turning in.
June 28, 2002 – Friday
Clark Fork River, ID to Kalispell, MT
Waking to the sight of squashed mosquitoes on Herb, we reviewed our welts then made breakfast. This time I cooked. I invented a little something I like to call stovetop cinnamon rolls out of lightly fried white bread chunks with a topping of brown sugar, raisins, butter and cinnamon. Tasty but rich. It needed the coffee along with it.
On we went on the Scenic Pend Orielle Byway and in about three minutes we entered Montana and the Mountain time zone. A few clouds filtered the penetrating sun as we wound along the river road. Pine trees were all around, then there would be a sudden grassy field dotted with cattle. This continued as we reached the town of Thompson Falls and made a gas and groceries stop. Mountains now drew nearer and we began to ascend among the jagged, tilting slabs. The climbing suddenly ended and we found ourselves in a high, fertile valley with ranches of cattle, buffalo and even one with the most llamas I have ever seen – hundreds in all sizes and colors. From here we caught our first glimpse of the Rocky Mountains, pale blue and featureless in the distance.
The land of fishing made us crave a little fillet of fish, but nothing local could be found so we settled for snapper. This called for a special dining location and we were pleased to find the West Shore State Park on Flathead Lake. The day use area provided a nice spot right next to the lake and we settled in for the afternoon – Herb’s side door was opened and the cats harnessed for safety, the pots and pans and cooking miscellaneous were assembled and Brian worked his cooking magic. At our own folding table and chairs a nice meal of pan-fried snapper was served with accompanying wild mushroom cous cous and bon voyage chardonnay from Owen and Roxanne Jones, more friends in Ashland. The tasty food, the fresh air and the lovely lake view all put us in a fine mood and I may perhaps have uttered a giggle or two.
The campground host paid us a visit and told us that he and his wife would be caring for the park all summer. Then in past years they had been off to Arizona (with side trips to Mexico for fishing and food and sneaky beer margaritas) to while away the cool months before returning to Montana. This year, though, his wife had decided they should buy a house and stay put. He mumbled something about putting down roots but it was clear that he had his doubts about skipping the snowbird routine. I told him we would give his regards to Arizona.
The “Big Sky” of Montana was touched with puffy clouds and wispy streaks, for which we were grateful. We drove through the evening with the goal of reaching Kalispell in time to find a laundromat. Kalispell was a pleasant city with a broad Main Street and a variety of stores blending the useful with a touch of the resort town feel. We cruised the evening streets past shops and fairgrounds until we stumbled upon a laundromat that would be open until 11:00 – just long enough for us to wash and dry a load. We half watched TV while the clothes de-filthed, and finding two quarters gave us an excuse to buy a soda from the vending machine. About a block from the laundromat we parked on a quiet city street for the night.
June 29, 2002 – Saturday
Kalispell, MT to east of Glacier National Park
This was a red letter day, and not just because I had a maple bar with my coffee when we stopped between Kalispell and Glacier National Park. Glacier is a place for which the word “wow” must have been invented.
I was one eager puppy as we reached the Apgar entrance to the park and flashed our brand new National Parks pass. First stop was the visitor center on Lake MacDonald and we dutifully looked at the huge topographic map before walking over to see the lake. The lake is beautiful, as mountain lakes usually are, but the backdrop of curved slopes soaring up to mountain peaks made it spectacular. What surprised me was that even on a Saturday in the summer, we were entirely alone at the end of the boat dock for the time we were admiring the scenery. Not that other people were not nearby, but it was definitely uncrowded. Part of the explanation could have been the notice we read in the newspaper at the maple bar coffee shop that the famous Going-to-the-Sun Road through the park had only opened yesterday due to late snow. We felt very lucky.
With video camera at the ready and in spite of occasional drizzle, we hit the scenic road. First stop along the way was the historic 1913 Lake McDonald Lodge. Its wood-beamed interior rose many floors at the center of the lobby area and animals looked down on us through glass eyes – bighorn sheep, moose, cougar, elk, mountain goat, bear. At one side of the main floor was a huge stone fireplace and lounge chairs. Hanging in the center of the lodge was a branching light whose many shades looked like parchment painted with Native American pictographs. For a wooden lodge, the interior was surprisingly bright.
Back in the parking lot, we spotted another of the old red tour buses we had seen earlier, then another and another. There seems to be an entire fleet of these restored 1932 vehicles still used and they add a charmingly nostalgic look to the park.
Unsure what to expect but ready to be amazed, we took off up the Going-to-the-Sun Road. It warmed us up gradually with view of the mountains and river, but as we entered those mountains the scenery became truly spectacular. I uttered repeated wows between warnings to Brian not to drive off the edge. The old video camera got a workout as we ascended the carved mountains above green valleys. The sky was wispy and it felt like we were climbing right into the clouds. There was a fairly steady stream of cars but we all moved at a sensible gawking pace. We took advantage of some of the turnouts to savor the view. Koko seemed to appreciate the wonder of the situation and sat on my lap peering out at the peaks and abyss.
Eventually, as expected the snow began to rise at the sides of the road until we were passing through walls of white. As did most people, we turned out at the visitor center on top of the pass, but it was closed and the bluster unnerved all but a few snowboarders. Down, down we went on the Eastern side, buffeted by the wind, bewildered by the view. When we reached the St Mary’s visitor center on the eastern edge of the park, we got out and stretched our legs (inside; it was too windy out of doors). The spirit of the moment moved us to purchase a small, full-color booklet about the building of the road we had just driven. And, of course, we picked out a pin for my growing collection. It pictured a yellow Glacier Lily, which I had not seen but the design was pleasing.
Saving our camping bucks for the next day, we pulled into a roadside turnout just south of the park entrance and made camp. There near the car was a patch of Glacier Lilies.
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