2005

Montana is, geographically speaking, divided into roughly two sections, flatlands toward the east, and mountains in the western half. Census counts indicate the east is losing population, and the west is gaining.

Farmland to the east, mountains to the west. Locals refer to their state as, “the last great place”, and not because Montana has no sales tax.

Monday, July 25/05:

Logan's Run
Changes in Latitude, changes in attitude. We’re so far North, I can read the roadmap by sunlight alone at 10pm. If that ain’t enough to impress you, the sun rises at 5.

It’s far past suppertime, and the reflection of a sign welcoming us to Cut Bank, Montana, brings thoughts of a hot shower and a comfortable bed. If you watch the weather channel, you’ve heard of this town, often mentioned during winter as “this morning’s coldest location”. A small ‘berg, commerce activity mainly consists of grain elevators, trucks, and farm equipment, but for us, it is the jumping off point for a 200 mile loop, taking us through Logan Pass, deep in the heart of Glacier National Park, Montana, USA.

It can be tough to score a clean room at a reasonable rate once you wander far from any interstate, and in Cut Bank, this was the case. Only one “chain” motel, overpriced, and no vacancy. After considerable hassle, we lucked out with a $150 room for 67.50 at the Glacier Gateway Plaza. It had the largest bed I’ve ever seen in a motel, very clean, and saved us from having to crash at a nasty looking place down the street. If you are the hardy type, preferring a stare at the stars rather than a ceiling fan, GNP has open camping space and sites. I doubt the primitive sites ever fill up, because this place is in the middle of nowhere! There is simply nothing past GNP, unless you’re headed to Calgary, Canada to find the true meaning of life.

Tuesday, July 26/05, 7am:

Did I mention that Cut Bank is cold in the winter? Temp in the low forties as I walked out to check the chopper. I could see my breath, and it’s summer, but we’re less than 40 miles from Canada, so we decide to have dinner in the morning and wait for it to warm up. A couple of ribeyes and a pot of black coffee later, west on Rt. #2, into and through the Blackfeet Indian Reservation. A mechanic who came out to look at our ‘horse warned us about Browning, the next town to the west, saying…

“Don’t stop there, or ask them for anything, they’re drunk 24 hours a day.”

(Yeah, I sensed quite a bit of tension between the locals, and the original residents of this place). It’s been my experience that there are quite a few drunks among the population of non-Indian people too, but yes, while in Browning, I saw a couple of tipsy native Americans, one who just barely made it across the road. My take? After what we did to them 150 years ago, they have every right to drink, if that’s what they want. Consumed with thoughts of Browning, I forgot to gas up, and by the time we arrived at St. Mary, the entrance to Glacier National Park, the S&S was running on fumes. The two Hamilton’s for a park pass, good for one whole week, was the best money I ever spent. The next 120 miles was punctuated by gasps of “wow” nearly every five minutes. 9,000 and 10,000 foot peaks were everywhere. I’ve rode this high country in other western states, but the relief in GNP is nearly vertical in spots. 25 miles in, we traverse Logan pass, elevation 6400 feet right on the blacktop. Snow-capped mountains right down to the tree line.  At the pass, I could pull to the shoulder, and reach out to make a snowball. Deer, Elk, Moose are everywhere. GNP is home to one of the last great strongholds of the Grizzly Bear. Local farmers are dead set against the government’s attempt to expand the range of this endangered bear, but this is about extinction, not sheep and cows. Wind in these mountains can be hazardous, as can falling debris, as can be wildlife. It won’t kill ya to stop and take in the sights, but it might if you insist on staring at the horizon on this twister of a highway, it happens all the time.

Because of the extremely clean environment, and directly from snow water runoff, you might expect crystal-clear streams, but what you get is even more exciting. Early in the morning or late in the afternoon, you can see trout, seemingly suspended in air, waiting for the occasional dragonfly to venture too close to the surface, and become an instant meal. I’ve seen clean streams in beautiful places like Jackson Hole, Wyoming. The best description that comes to mind when describing the streams in GNP is “freaky-clean”, so clean you think the water is air. We swam in an area lake where you could float on the surface and look down over the drop-off, and so far beyond, it was scary.

Around one bend, we spotted a Bighorn Ram, just chilling out in a meadow of green and gold, oblivious to our presence, except for peripheral glances over the tip of a perfectly rounded rack. You don’t get this kind of experience at the Bronx Zoo.

On past Lake McDonald, where there are NO McDonalds, and into West Glacier, and then through Pinnacle, Summit, and finally, out to East Glacier, and our first food stop, where we hit a little diner. Two 16 oz espressos, and two burger platters, all
the way with fries, lettuce & tomato, total tab…$7.50! This town is so remote, the waitress, (who was also the cook), didn’t seem to realize we left the ten-spot for a tip, and didn’t want any change! If making this loop, leave early. 200 miles doesn’t seem like a long trip for hardened bikers, but the journey can take a lot of time due to the rugged terrain, and those overloaded RV’s don’t exactly haul ass when they’re going straight up a grade. Plus, you keep stopping to take it all in, breathe it all in, and simply stare.

Back at the motel, we loaded up on Coronas and smoked fish from Minnesota. When we shared a few of our homegrown Florida limes, the locals were Fascinated that we actually grew enough citrus “to eat”.

Confirmed: Logan Pass is a long way from home.