Coop's Corner: Glacier National Park 1976

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Glacier National Park 1976

With a touring bike, time off (always not quite enough) and the desire to 'head west', trip planning with some friends had commenced. Friend Brad and I were making plans to visit Glacier National Park in August, he on his Kawasaki 900 four and me on the Honda 750 four. For a trial run, we decided to make a Canadian triangle trip over the July 4 weekend, our country's Bicentennial. Another friend, his name just happened to be Cooper (not related) decided to join us for a good trip shakedown.

We met early Saturday morning and rode up along Minnesota's North Shore, went through the border crossing and rode a short distance from there to Kakabeka Falls Provincial Park for our first night. Sunday morning we headed west and spent that night at Sioux Narrows Park near Kenora, Ontario. On our nation's birthday, we were in another country, not far away, but away. Brad, Cooper and Coopdway went for a walk that evening through the campground's loops. I saw a couple of motorcycles in one of the sites and heard voices that sounded very familiar.

I walked up and asked the two brothers if they remembered me and they did. In summers past, I'd met them in Bayfield, Wisconsin where we shared lunch at Gruenke's. Later that same summer I was out for a weekend in Michigan's U.P. at Porcupine Mountain State Park and the two guys in the white Firebird were once again the brothers. Brad and Coop were beside themselves, understanding that I would know two guys at a remote Canadian campground.

The long weekend went well and if Brad or I learned anything new about motorcycle travel, I can't remember what it was. Mid-August arrived and the two of us headed west, up I-94, across North Dakota and into eastern Montana.

Fort Peck Dam......

Site of Lewis and Clark's Camp Disappointment......

Mt. Wilber and Mt. Swiftcurrent, Glacier National Park......

It was raining in the Swiftcurrent Campground.....

Brad in fine form, drinking from the stream crossing our trail to Grinnell Glacier. Last time I heard, he's still living and able to tell about it.......

Coopdway at Grinnell Glacier.....

Coopdway in quiet contemplation, wearing red for the odd Grizzly suffering from poor eyesight.....

The two of us did lots of hiking, not much riding while we were in the park. I had been in the park a few years before with my parents, we had done some stream fishing and were very successful at it. Mentioning it to Brad, we hiked up above the campground a short distance and had the same kind of luck. I wish I had photos of the trout we caught and ate but alas......

That evening we were in camp and heard a BMW riding through the loops. The rider went past us, then turned around. Stopping, he asked if we minded sharing our campsite with him. Paul was over here, with his own bike (a big AUS license plate), from Australia. We spent the evening talking around the campfire though I don't remember a thing about what we learned, where he'd been, where he was headed to, etc. All I remember is that he was spending time riding the USA. I wonder what he's doing now?

The end of the trail to Iceberg Lake......

The next day we packed up and left Glacier and then the USA, heading north into Alberta's Banff and Jasper National Park. Along the Jasper Highway, our destination a campground north of Jasper Nat. Park.

A very busy Canadian National Railway station in Jasper National Park......

We zipped home, making the return a pretty quick one. I'd need Brad's help to remember exactly where and how we came back, but I do remember coming across the Trans Canada Highway and then down through North Portal, North Dakota. As always, nice to go and nice to come home.

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"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)