Modern Nomads: 09/07/14

Disaster…

Un-mitigated disaster is the only phrase I could come up with to describe the scene that was about to unfold. As we rounded the last of the three loops it became abundantly clear that yet again, all of the spots that might have conceivably allowed a 32-foot trailer were occupied, often by a tiny tent, or possibly two. “They have the right to be here too,” I reminded myself. Meanwhile the 9 year old in me screamed, “Get out of my spot! What the hell are tent campers doing in Glacier National Park anyway? Don’t they know this place is chock full of Grizzly bears, waiting to drag them out of their puny little tents and eviscerate them while they sleep????” Happy campers took all of the spots that we could have possibly fit into. Alan confirmed this with the camp host who suggested we drive out to Browning to find a place. And, yes, she conceded it was crazy that the park filled up by 11:30 on a Tuesday when the website so CLEARLY stated that it hadn’t filled until 9 pm the previous two weeks.

I shook from head to toe, my body wracked with childlike sobs as I could no longer contain my bitter, bitter disappointment. For weeks now I had envisioned taking my children to the same idyllic spot where I had spent blissful weeks during the summers of my childhood with my best friend, Julie’s family in Two Medicine, Glacier. I had planned each moment in my mind. First we would find heart-shaped rocks along the beach, playing in the glacial waters. Next we would hike across the tiny bridge and maybe catch the Sinopah boat tour. We would catch Brown trout and eat them with Mac and Cheese, prepared just the way Don did, butter, lemon and onion wrapped in foil. Finally, the pinnacle, desert at the camp store, piping hot Fry bread and huckleberry milkshakes. Oh the campstore, smelling of cedar, permeating every membrane, every article of clothing and each memory. The smell filling my dreams for weeks now. I was bitterly, bitterly disappointed. Unable to hold out a second longer I gave in to the sobbing 6 year old inside and crumpled in the passenger seat. My oldest son, Jacob, reached around the seat, patting my shoulder and saying, it’s alright Mom, everything is okay, everything happens for a reason.

Hidden falls

I couldn’t hear his sage advice at that moment. “Everything happens for a reason” was the kind of crap I would spout when he was disappointed. That certainly wouldn’t hold true in this case.

We retreated down the mountainside. I had remembered a small family owned place just outside the park, the Lazy Y. The rates quoted on the website were astronomical but, Alan assured me, it would only be for one night, then we would be up at the crack of dawn, stalking people until they left a site. Now two days down, we would still have two nights to enjoy the park.

As we pulled in to the unattended park, we noticed a hand written sign on the door of a tiny office. The rate would be a mere $25 a night for full hook-ups. That means not only power but sewer hooks ups were included as well. Only $5 more than the spot I had so sacredly held at Two Medicine, with NO water, and NO sewer.

The place where Julie and I hid a time capsule at 12 years old!

In front of Sinopah Mt. At Two Medicine Lake

But, what about the view of Two Med Lake I wouldn’t be getting from my campsite? From our little spot amidst the trees I was able to see the sweet Cliffside chapel of my best friend Julie’s wedding 14 years prior. And below that, a draw in which we were privileged to see three deer eating breakfast while a coyote crossed the ridge above them.

"Julie's" Chapel

And what of the camp store? It had been taken over in recent years by a larger corporation. It smelled, faintly, of cedar. The Fry bread was gone, the huckleberry shakes, once made by hand, had been replaced with a frozen yogurt dispenser. They had Huckleberry flavor there. It tasted like soap. Soap and disappointment. Instead, the boys and I played in the lake, went into town and met an amazing Lithuanian couple working at “Brownies” serving exquisite Huckleberry Ice Cream. We talked to them for an hour about traveling and world citizens. We met a girl with her new puppy and went to the lodge to listen to Gospel, sung in barbershop style. The next day we stayed at our park with our wonderful host and chatted over coffee while watching the ravine. We spent the day exploring parts of the park I had never seen, and re-visiting old sights too. Things I would not have done had we stayed at the lake. Jacob, of course, was right. “Everything works out for a reason.” And, more clearly to me now than ever, we are right where we are meant to be.