After two weeks of nonstop family, fun and food, Eddie and I are alone in a house (condo) in the Montana woods. George and Team Drew are back in Texas with the hot temperatures that we annually attempt to escape. Not to gloat, but we woke up to temps in the low 40’s with an expected high of 71...brilliant blue skies and just a hint of a breeze in the aspen trees, with the smell of spruce in the air....yeah, I know, being a Pickle is so hard during a Pandemic, heat wave, with 4-6 Tropical Storms/hurricanes in the neighborhood back home. Life is good.
As advertised, Week 2 with George was nothing quite like week one with Team Drew. That being said, I can now find my way back and forth to Glacier National Park blindfolded. We have driven, or been driven, the Hwy 93 to Highway 2 route almost every day...so there will be no fire drills or getting lost in today’s report. So mask up folks, and I will give you this week’s high points.
While it did not happen all on the same day, we have partaken in the local waters—-beer, wine and whiskey tastings...seems everyone has gotten into dyi spirits in Montana. Must be the long cold winters and nothing to do..unless you like ice fishing, snowboarding, skiing, snowmobiling...Big Mountain where we are perched gets roughly 300 inches of snow a year. As Eddie has said many times before, just because you can grow a grape, does not mean you are a wine maker...same hold true for a good number of the spirit purveyors in this neck of the woods. I grew up on the Tennessee/Alabama line, with bootleggers making moonshine and those darn revenuers bustin’ up stills... (no, I did not go blind). Some of the stuff we sampled burned going down, and gave you fire in the belly, for hours...yeah, just a little better than PGA and moonshine. Some others...were pretty smooth, with an interesting mix of local flavors (not huckleberries but cherries)...those are coming home in our suitcases...as Glacier Distillery does not ship...the wine we liked will be home next week...beer was enjoyed locally and regularly...beer garden style, social distanced, outdoor under the trees...wonderful temperatures, dogs optional. We did have a fun adventure/scavenger hunt of sorts...if you are a American Whiskey (not to be confused with an Irish or Scotch whiskey) person...there are a couple of names that are legend (read rare or hard to find-expensive in the third market resale)
Pappy Van Winkle and Blanton’s. Both are small batch...post era of merger and acquisitions, they are both owned and distilled by same company in same place. Buffalo Trace (the distiller) has learned the lesson of fine wine makers...create a cult following and release only a very limited supply...well, apparently the folks in Montana does not have a bunch of sophisticated whiskey snobs. The Montana state run liquor stores gets regular shipments/allocations of Blantons (not sure about Pappy’s)...heck, you stand a good chance of getting the entire collection of their oh so collectible stoppers. (I’ll wait while you go look it up on Wikipedia)The Blanton’s is a little more expensive that what Eddie stocks in his bar, so it stays on the shelf a good deal longer here in Montana. So, there are 7 liquor stores between our condo in Whitefish and the entrance to Glacier. So, guess that is what you do when your family leaves, right? Nope, we did not find the bottle of Blanton’s to go with our other liquor souvenirs-we were close...but it was this week’s spin on the fire drill at a red light.
As Eddie was the chief driver during Team Drew’s visit, I planned for a private guided tour of Glacier NP for George’s visit. Eddie has long complained that when he is the driver, he only sees the traffic in front of him and tends to miss out on the sights in the sightseeing tour. So, I found a company that would give us a GNP tour and commentary. Our guide, Andy, was a 42 year old Colin Hanks doppelgänger. Originally from Maine, he came for college and stayed...he has a degree in American History and a minor in Native American Culture...so he fit right in with Eddie and George on the History channel. Andy and George could exchange stories of the joys of History degrees in the job market....I do think Houston has more opportunities than Montana. He made his way through his college summers as a Jammer in the park. Jammers aka drivers of one of the 33 Red Buses (circa 1936) that are used to tour folks around the park...jammers because the jamming of the standard transmission can be heard all over the park. This would have been my 2019 preplanned preferred way to go, along with the boat on Lake MacDonald...but this is 2020, there are none of this services available in the half open park...so, private Subura Outback driver/guide it is. Andy said that in Late April, early May (about the time all various types of the bears start to come out of hibernation) all the locals (and after 25 years or so here, he can claim local status) started to worry out loud that no one would come this year to GNP or the surrounding areas. Business Owners started to prepare for Plan C, since Plan B had been deployed during the shut down. The summer has brought recorded numbers to this little hamlet along with people purchasing second homes, so business is booming, as is construction. Whitefish (along with the surrounding towns along Highway 2) are not like Jackson Hole or Breckinridge. Think Splendora and New Caney...there are probably more Thrift Stores, Bison burger joints and Huckleberry Gift Shop/Restaurants than boutiques and high end dining establishments...which is kinda why we like it. Andy’s tour was more of the roads less traveled or park personnel only roads, sharing his unique perspectives and view points of the scenery in and around the park. One of those areas was the guidebooks #1 must see, Polebridge Mercantile...an outpost on the north western fringe of the park that was a stop for trappers long before the park was establish. Polebridge, cause that is what the bridge over the Flathead River was made from -Lodgepole pine trees. It is now home to a bakery, and a half dozen rough overnight cabins. When I say rough, it is not the glamping that’s you see in travel magazines. It is a no frills, kerosene lamp, outhouse affair-from $125 a night. Stray cats, random rusting metal objects available at no extra cost, but those tetanus and rabies shots will. While the huckleberry bear claws, huckleberry strudel bread are good, kinda of glad that this outpost wasn’t visited during week one...see part about shots. Glacier NP (almost named Glacial Lakes National Park) is like so many of the original national parks, a step back in time. The hotels and buildings are often 100 years old or older representing an era when travel was by train and horseback...slow and unhurried with natural unspoiled beauty, fresh clean water and air are the stars. Funny, how a pandemic can make you appreciate things like this in a whole new light...masks, hand sanitizer, social distancing and all.
George also did a Whitewater (not scenic float ride) rafting trip one afternoon which allows us time back in the park. We hiked down to the Scared Dancing Cascade and waded around in the crystal clear cold waters then were able to drive up the Logan’s Pass before having to turn around to get to the Blue Rafting place from the previous week. Second time around, I knew the drill..no getting lost....and saw things that we had not seen or explored the other times. As it is late into the summer, the rapids were pretty tame, but he had two boys (7 & 8) onboard that wrestled the entire time in the raft bottom, or wanted to be drug over the side of the raft...sound familiar. Apparently, this is SOP for the raft company. Here I thought we were unique. George played his part by hoisting the boys out of the water with their life vests....as he and the dad understood the drill better than mom. Once a Boy Scout, always a Boy Scout.
All that is left is to finish the 1,000 piece puzzle, eat the rest of the provisions we have purchased, and pack. My fuzzy sock slippers and snuggly warm pants will have to wait until November or December to see the light of day when we get back home. Yeah, Montana is the Last Best Place.
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