©Bert Gildart: This past weekend about 150 people gathered from all points of the United States, and from Canada, to pay homage to a former Glacier Park ranger. In itself the group represented a unique gathering that embodied a significant chapter of the park’s history, and in my early years, some of the assembled people influenced me greatly to include the man we had all gathered to honor.

East Glacier co-workers, at memorial service, July 19, 2008

Bob Frauson was that man and in brief, the ranger had distinguished himself in every facet of his life, for he had been a member of the elite 10^th Mountain Division and served in Italy during WWII. After the war Bob returned to college, worked briefly as a teacher, but soon found employment in his chosen field as a National Park Service ranger. As such he worked in parks in Wyoming and in Colorado before moving to Glacier where he subsequently served for 20 years–all on the park’s east side. In 1982, he retired as a district ranger, and remained in the Flathead Valley until his death this past June.

SEARCH AND RESCUE

My first encountered with this legendary man was 1962 and my acquaintance was under adverse conditions. It involved an attempt to find a friend, one with whom I worked and with whom I had climbed several of the park’s mountains.

Still part of Bob’s world, July 20, 2008

At the time David Wilson and I lived in a tent camp near West Glacier with a group of other young men, all working for the park in the woods and on the trails. We were young college students and one weekend David and I decided to climb Heaven’s Peak , which we did successfully. David, however, was somewhat of a loner, and the very next weekend he decided to climb Going-to-the-Sun Mountain all alone, something, of course, we are all advised not to do. When David did not return to the tent camp as scheduled we all became concerned. Next day, Bob initiated a search party and soon learned that David had signed the climbing register, but after that-no word.

Though a professional climbing team searched all conceivable routes Wilson might have followed, it found nothing, and that’s when Bob called in our labor crew. Bob organized us in such a way that we covered virtually every square inch of the forested mountain side that flanked Going-to-the-Sun Mountain. But after a week-long futile search, Bob concluded that David Wilson had either fallen into a crevasse, a bear had gotten him, or–and this was always one of Bob’s theories–that David Wilson had intentionally pulled a disappearing act and had fled the country. Though that possibility had not occurred to me at the time it was a possibility that I’ve come to accept; certainly one I prefer to the alternative. At any rate, 40-some years later not one single trace has ever been found of the missing climber, and now, though I certainly remember my friendship with David Wilson, I also remember the methodical way in which Bob organized our search party. It was my first introduction to techniques used for search and rescue.

HUGE PACK

As the years went by and I completed college I later worked as a seasonal ranger in many parts of Glacier and came to know Bob better. I worked for him out of Cut Bank Ranger Station-and what so many who spoke at the Memorial Service seemed to dwell on was the incredible pack the man carried when on patrol, something I certainly remember. Bob, of course, was a big man, and when you recall that he fought in the mountains of Italy his pack’s size might not seem so surprising. His pack seemed to carry whatever was necessary for rescues or for anything else he might run into.

These are aspects of the man’s life that friends and acquaintances dwelled on Saturday, but what I can add that others did not is that he could be very persuasive about park philosophy, something I learned from the career I chose as an outdoor writer. Bears were always a major item in park management, and I had been commissioned by Smithsonian magazine to write a story about the park’s fatal maulings, a subject on which I had become very well versed because of my own personal involvement in Glacier’s first tragic maulings of 1967.

PERSUASIVE MAN

One afternoon, Bob and I debated for hours about the park’s bear management plan and the extent to which Glacier should be held responsible for deaths that had occurred along Divide Creek in the St. Mary Valley. In the end, I left with a much better understanding of bear biology and the park’s bear management plan–and those were thoughts I worked into my magazine story.

But what I now remember most is that Bob’s council was excellent on a whole range of subjects, both professional–and personal–and that it should never be ignored.

St. Mary Valley, terrific for wildflowers, July 20, 2008

Though the memorial service closed with a quote from John Muir extolling the mountains that Frauson had so expertly helped manage, others closed in ways that were equally as telling. All the testimonies were excellent, but I focus on those provided by Bob Sellers, because he was another ranger whom I came to know personally and admired greatly.

“SEE YOU NEXT SPRING”

Sellers in his recollections reminisced about his and Bob’s respective roles in the park, and recalled how the two would meet in the fall in patrol cars at Logan Pass, knowing snows would soon render the road impassible on both its east and west sides.

“We also knew,” recalled Sellers, “that because we worked on opposite sides of the park we probably would not see one another until the following spring, and so that’s the way we’d part. ‘See you next spring, we’d say to one another.’ To which the other would likewise reply.”

And that’s how Sellers concluded his memories, a thought that says in effect that Bob Frauson is still overseeing the mountains we all love and that his council will always be around when needed. That’s a most satisfying thought, and one on which I find hard to improve.

“See you next spring,” concluded Sellers. “See you next spring.”

Pasque flower

Bert Gildart: Few places are more lovely in spring than Montana’s Glacier National Park. At this time, I’m particularly drawn to the park’s east side and this is the area to which Janie and I gravitated about 10 days ago. Several of my favorite flowers were beginning to bloom and the park’s water falls were thundering through the gorges which they continue to endow with rugged personalities.

Three flowers in particular were abundant, and all representative of early spring. They were spring beauty, the buttercup and the pasque flower.

The pasque flower has always been one of my favorites. It grows in areas that one might call a “dry site,” and it puts forth bold purple flowers. The Craigheads in their Guide to Rocky Mountain Flowers, and a book that has been on my shelf for decades, says the flower has no petals, only sepals, which are colored purple, violet, or occasionally white.

Anemone patens, as known scientifically, has white pistils, and yellow stamens that number in the dozens. When the flower has matured it produces a cluster of fruits resembling a lion’s beard. Consequently, some call it just that, “Lion’s beard.”

TOXIC SUBSTANCE

In late June you’ll also find the flower at Logan Pass (6,646 feet) and at nearby Hidden Lake, and then, towards summer’s end, you’ll see it as a silky head. South Dakota claims the pasque flower as its state flower and it is the official flower of Manitoba and the Yukon Territories. The plant contains a toxic alkaloid called anemonine, and if over eaten by domestic animals, particularly sheep, it can be fatal.

Grinnell Falls

Because the flowers were growing in the shadow of the horrendous St. Mary Fire of 2006, they added a delightful counterpoint to the blackened hills that surrounded us as we hiked above the old St. Mary Ranger Station.

The station is historic and is where Chance Beebe was stationed as a ranger shortly after the park was created in 1910. It’s also where Eva Beebe paced nervously with her child as a mountain lion prowled the attic. Chance was on patrol, but later saw the prints in the dust of the floor. The lion had gained access by leaping from a tree and through an attic window.

WATER, WATER EVERYWHERE

Not to be ignored were the water falls, which seemed to be cascading from many sources on the park’s east side. However, none that we saw last week could equal the gush and roar of Grinnell Falls, backdropped by Grinnell Point, all in the Many Glacier Valley.

It’s a lovely time to visit the park, though few of the trails are yet open. Logan Pass remains inaccessible as the lower portions of the Going to the Sun Road are closed, posted as being prone to avalanches. You’ll be hearing more about this famous road as the park will be celebrating its 75^th Anniversary throughout the summer.

This Time Last Year I posted materials about dandelions . I also posted a story entitled “An Old Farmers Advice ,” which I thought contained much sage advice.

AND NOW, THE COMMERCIAL:

If you’re interested in exploring the Flathead Valley and Glacier National park, here are two books produced by Falcon Press, one part of their Exploring Series, the other one of a new series of “Pocket Guides.”

Janie and I, of course, are the authors and you can obtain both from us, or directly from Falcon. Look for them, too, in bookstores and in Glacier.

Exploring Guide

Glacier Pocket book

Red Crossbill

©Bert Gildart: Here are two new species of birds that have recently started showing up at our feeder in Creston, Montana. They provide a continuation of the posting I made last year, entitled “By Their Beaks Shall You Know Them .” That posting was made from Florida’s Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge and is the same kind of information I use when bird watching here in Montana, and in particular, during our many outings to Glacier National Park.

The first species shown here is a Red Crossbill, and if you look closely, you will see that the lower mandible passes beneath the upper mandible, enabling the species to pry out seeds from unopened pine cones.

True to form the species is gregarious and is just one of the many Crossbills now seeking sustenance from our feeder.

CROSSBILLS AND THE CRUCIFIXION

According to Tom Ulrich in his book Birds of the Northern Rockies, the species carries with it a legend that traces back to the crucifixion. As the story goes, a small bird alighted on the cross and attempted to pull the nails from Jesus’s hands and feet. The bird tried so hard that its bill became badly twisted and its plumage covered with blood. As a result, we have a bird with an orange-tinged breast and mandibles that are crossed.

The second species appearing this week at our feeder is the Evening Grosbeak, where it assumes the role of a “King of the Hill.” Constantly bickering for position, the bird moves into the largest pile of seeds, relegating the chickadees, siskins and the brown creepers to the back of the feeder where seeds are fewer in number.

Evening Grosbeak

The bird is a colorful individual and we easily determine gender by the yellow band across its forehead above the eyes. The species has a massive set of mandibles enabling it to perform with brute strength what the Crossbill does with finesse.

MORE AVIAN ESPERANTO

With the return of these two species our feeder is now attracting a goodly number of species, suggesting to us that Sam Keen was correct when he spoke of an “Avian Esperanto” in his book Sightings.

Though our feeder was neglected for almost four months while Janie and I were traveling, somehow about 20 different species now know we’re back and that there is an easily obtainable source of food available at the Gildart’s. If that’s not some form of universal communication then please tell me what to call it.

The birds are here, of course, because of their beaks, which enable them make use of the food source–seeds–which we supply in abundance.

Our Pileated Woodpeckers are also back, and that’s because we supply the suet they can poke at with their long pointed beaks. On the other hand, though we see Robins all around, we never see them at our feeder, and that’s, of course, because we don’t supply the bugs and worms that their beaks can accommodate. In those ways, then, Ye Shall know Them.

AND NOW, THE COMMERCIAL:

If you’re interested in exploring the Flathead Valley and Glacier National park, here are two books produced by Falcon Press, one part of their Exploring Series, the other one of a new series of “Pocket Guides.” Janie and I, of course, are the authors and you can obtain both from us, or directly from Falcon. Look for them, too, in bookstores and in Glacier.

Exploring Guide

Glacier Pocket book

Janie and Cutbank Ranger Station

©Bert Gildart: Though I worked in Glacier National Park for 13 summers (and a number of falls), three of the best seasons were spent in the 1980s as a back-country ranger at the Cutbank Ranger Station.

The station was historic and had all the right vibes for me to write a weekly column about my work there for the local weekly back in Bigfork (the Bigfork Eagle). Come fall I’d return home and resume my work as an outdoor writer, producing a tabloid that won many awards from the Montana Press Association.

The trip Janie and I made this past week recalled a few of the wonderful memories from those years. To reach the old station this past Saturday, we drove four miles to a locked gate and then rode one mile by bike to the ranger station.

My memories were made even more vivid when, lo, whom should we find de-winterizing the station but our neighbor Bill Hutchison, still an employee in Glacier. He let us in, and we poked around a bit. Then we wandered back outside again and looked at the old familiar setting.

The station is set in the shadows of Kapukamint Mountain to the north and by Mad Wolf Mountain to the south. To the east once ran the old and historic North Trail, providing another lure for anyone with outdoor interests. Later, when we walked down to the old barn, memories flooded in.

The best way to provide some picture of what my life was like at the old cabin is to reprint one of my old columns. This summer, we hope to do even better and visit with the current ranger at Cut Bank. And then, too, there are several more columns I’ll soon be running here. But first, a column about the trails radiating from my station, and all that one can learn when one stays alert. Sometimes it’s much more than one might expect.

Reflecting on back-country ranger days

From the Bigfork Eagle, June 1981: Trails from Cut Bank Ranger Station lead (eventually) in four different directions. As a back-country ranger it is my job to patrol each of these areas and, in the jargon of the park service, “to stay alert and be prepared for the unexpected.” In the course of an average day that means I am supposed to remain in such a state for almost 20 miles or approximately eight or nine hours.

The mode of transportation used most often for these patrols is horse. During the course of a single summer, “John” (the horse) and I traveled hundreds of miles.

Typically, a day’s outing along trails to the south include a patrol to Medicine Grizzly Lake (approximately five miles one way) followed by a trip to Morning Star Lake (another five miles).

Bill Hutchison, and interior of Cut Bank Ranger Station

The return route then is about seven miles for a grand total of about 17 miles. Occasionally, I may extend these trips and proceed toward the east, terminating my trip at Triple Divide or, taking anther fork, terminating my trip near Pitamakin Pass. Both areas offer unique geological and historical features.

SPURT OF MASOCHISM

The trail over Triple Divide eventually takes me to Red Eagle Lake and then, five miles further, to St. Mary Ranger Station for a grand total of 24 miles. Once, in an unusual spurt of masochism, I hiked the entire length in a single day.

The fork to the southwest proceeds toward Pitamakin Pass. Here, if one were to continue, there would be several options: one, proceed back to the north and drop down toward Old Man Lake. Then, continuing, complete your trip arriving eventually at Two Medicine Campground.

As still another option, hikers may proceed from Pitamakin Pass taking what once was an old Indian Trail into the Nyack Wilderness area. This part of GNP offers hikers the opportunity to camp in undesignated areas. No other area of Glacier provides this opportunity.

May 2008 Reflections on St. Mary Lake

And what if hikers camp in unauthorized areas? Part of my job is to insure that this doesn’t happen, but occasionally it does, and if the Cut Bank Ranger catches offenders, why he can issue them a ticket. Like one day two weeks ago.

ILLEGAL CAMPING

Word had drifted back via hikers that a party of four was camped just below Pitamakin Pass at Lake of the Seven Winds. To make sure they would not get away, I arose at four in the morning and was at the above-mentioned lake just as the sun was peering over the frosty peaks. There they were, right in the middle of bear country–ground dug up all around them. In fact they were not far from the very area we had closed last year to prevent further bear/people confrontations. To top it off they had a fire blazing. Four healthy-looking men, with an illegal fire. Not a female among them to alter my disposition. So I done my duty, recalling, of course, that the dispensation of a ticket should be an educational tool, and moreover (according to park philosophy) that it should be administered with such tact and finesse that a violator might even want to send me a Christmas card.

THEY WERE “HONEYED UP”

If I were to ride in the other direction looking from my ranger station, I would soon be on the Blackfeet Indian Reservation. A few of the Indians here have leased their land to whites, who in turn, graze their sheep and cattle. Occasionally, these animals find a break in the boundary fence and slip through onto park land. In an effort to maintain good public relations with ranchers who really do work at controlling these beasts, I have ridden out to each of these spreads meeting as many of the hands as possible. It was in this manner that the Cut Bank Ranger was able to solve the case of a missing person for the tribal police.

Only last week one of the hands working out of a seldom-visited line-camp decided to drop by my ranger station with an exceedingly charming lady. By their actions, I judged them to be very good friends. Several nights later, the tribal police stopped by and asked me if I had seen the gentleman in question; that he had been missing for several weeks. Of course, I was glad to help and responded that, “Yes, they had been by the ranger station and, furthermore, that there had been no problems–that he was traveling with a most charming and certainly well-meaning young lady.” Continuing, I even said that I hoped he was in no trouble with the law.

Glancing at one another, the two tribal policemen advised me that he was in no trouble with the law but that he might be with his wife. The best they could do, they said, would be to advise the wife that the cowboy in question was in satisfactory condition. For their own records, however, they would have to note that man was “Honeyed up.”

My, but I do learn a lot by riding the trails and staying alert.

PREVIOUS POST ON RANGER STATION: “Pero, the Luckiest Mouse Alive”

Airstream backdropped by Divide Peak

©Bert Gildart: For the past three days Janie and I have been exploring spring in Glacier National Park. It hasn’t been particularly easy as campgrounds on the east side of the park are all closed, though expected to be open in about a week on a very primitive basis.

However, the KOA Campground at St. Mary is open, but then it is much lower in elevation and, therefore, is now snow clear. Not so, however, the park, where some of the more exciting and more lofty campgrounds are still filled with snow.

So, too, are some of the roads. Nevertheless, for the person with some spirit of adventure, there’s much to do.

BICYCLING IS GREAT

We found we could drive the road from near East Glacier toward Two Medicine and then park (Airstream and all) at the Running Eagle parking lot. Past this point, the road is snow free, but the road remains closed. Flooding is anticipated and some portions of the road could be difficult drive.

But you can bicycle the road, and that’s what I did, pedaling about two miles uphill to the Two Medicine Lodge, still closed and completely engulfed with snow.

LAKE PARTIALLY FROZEN

Interesting, I also found Two Medicine Lake to be partially frozen, but what a photo opportunity the lake provided all backdropped by Sinopah Mountain. Though the campground here will be open in about a week, at the moment, most campsites are banked with old spring snow.

Road to Two Medicine Chalet

From Two Medicine, we pulled the Airstream over Looking Glass Hill, descending to Kiowa Junction, then about 10 miles further, past the turn off to my old ranger station located along Cut Bank Creek. Later, we returned and did visit the ranger station, and this time both Janie and I bicycled the mile long section of this dirt road that wasn’t yet open either to vehicular traffic. Later this week, we’ll be providing some reflections on my days at Cut Bank.

TRAGIC FIRE

From Cut Bank, it is about another 15 miles to St. Mary, passing first over Divide Peak and then descending the northern flank that passes by one of the park’s most tragic burns. Just two years ago, the St. Mary Fire almost devoured the small settlement, and I’ll be posting here in yet a few more days photos of the devastation, and what might now be expected. As well, Janie and I also hiked the area, and we’ll be posting photos of our four mile hike that passed through some of the most incredible flower displays the park provides.

Sinopah Mountain

Our three days in the park in early spring was a trip we’ve been wanting to make for some time, and we are delighted we could squeeze out the time. Drop back throughout the week and we’ll be posting more Glacier photographs and providing a few reflections of the 13 years I spent in this incredible park.

Snow lingers in Glacier

©Bert Gildart: Snow pack in Montana’s Glacier National Park is more than we’ve seen in years, as an afternoon drive to Lake McDonald several days ago confirmed.

Nevertheless, Apgar Campground, which is always the first to open, is now manned with a campground host.

Though everyone seems startled with the quantity of snow, for us old timers it doesn’t seem so unusual. In the early 60s, several years after graduating from high school, I remember boarding a Greyhound Bus in Washington D.C., and then about two days later seeing the Rockies for the first time.

It was late May, and as the bus ascended a hill out of Great Falls, I could see the Rockies and recall that the snow which mantled the peaks also extended down the slopes to touch the prairie sweep.

I was awed–and I stayed, eventually graduating from Montana State University then working in the park as a ranger.

Apgar host

If you’re approaching Glacier from the east, that’s about the way it is right now. And as I recall, that was the way it was for a number of summers, though weather patterns have recently changed.

POSSIBLE FLOODING

But, now, for the first time in a number of years, snow is again substantial. Weathermen, in fact, say snow pack is 110 percent of normal and they keep mentioning the possibility of flooding. Today, that doesn’t seem likely, as the weather is cool.

But tomorrow all that is supposed to change and temperatures, weather reporters say will be about 20 degrees above normal. That will trigger run off and the streams that are now way down could suddenly rise. If all that is followed by warm rain, as it was in 1964, we could have considerably flooding.

Exploring Guide

Still, the mountains remain spectacular and though Logan Pass may not be open until late June, there is much to do and see.

Already folks are cycling along the Going-to-the-Sun Road while others are venturing into the Many Glacier area, the latter of which offers real possibilities of seeing grizzlies.

BOOKS TO HELP

To help with plans you may have for visiting the park now–and any time of the year in fact–Janie and I have published several books on the park. Globe Pequot published two of them and they can be purchased either from us or from them.

Much of the material distills from the years I spent working in Glacier as a ranger and then subsequently from photographing the park with Janie and writing about it for magazines and newspapers.

Glacier Pocket book

Bird Woman Falls

©Bert Gildart: Falcon Guides, produced by Globe Pequot Publishers, has just released the first in a new series called “Pocket Guides,” in this case a Glacier National Park Pocket Guide.

Though the books are small, measuring about 5 ½ by 4 inches, they pack a great deal into the 91 pages-and I am pleased to say that Janie and I are not only the authors but also the photographers, having provided all but three of the book’s forty-plus photographs.

Because of their size, the books are not intended to be comprehensive, rather they are intended to provide a snapshot of the park’s history and natural history. To give you an example, we’re providing here a few paragraphs from the book, beginning with an overview. We’re also providing a few paragraphs about bears and about one of our favorite areas in Glacier National Park, specifically, Kintla Lake. In the Pocket Guide we detail all the fun you and your family can have there by launching a kayak.

PARK OVERVIEW

One of the crown jewels of America’s national park system, Glacier can be described with many superlatives: Inspiring. Breathtaking. Vast. Some 230 years ago, when the mountain range containing Glacier National Park was first seen by Europeans, adventurers were prompted to call this the “Land of Shining Mountains.”

Yet another applicable catch phrase could be the “Land of Glorious Adversity,” for contemporary scientists tell us that the park was born of fire, quenched by torrential rains, inundated by vast seas, forced upward by internal pressures, and then gouged by great continental ice sheets that came and went on at least four occasions. From this heritage, mountains were molded that reach up to touch the sky and cradle more than 200 lakes…

SURPRIZING A GRIZZLY BEAR

If you should surprise a grizzly bear, stay quiet and back away slowly, avoiding direct eye contact. Try to get off the bear’s trail. Never run or yell. Stop if your movements are upsetting the animal. Signs of bear agitation include swaying of the head, clacking the teeth, lowering the head, and laying back the ears. Keep your pack on in case of an attack, and then drop to the ground. Protect your stomach by assuming a fetal position, and cover the back of your neck with your hands. Don’t move until you’re sure the bear has left…

Startling a grizzly

KAYAKING KINTLA LAKE

Kintla Lake, located in the most extreme northwestern portion of Glacier National Park, is probably the park’s most remote lake that can still be accessed by a vehicle, and its isolation and tranquility make it an ideal place for kayaking. At one time the park permitted power boats on the lake, but that’s not the case anymore, so the setting’s peace and quiet will never be marred by the sounds of motors.

What’s more, on some mornings the reflections of Starvation Ridge, Starvation Peak (in Canada), and Long Knife Peak in Kintla Lake are so perfect, you can almost invert any resulting photo images you might take and not tell the difference…

Of course, each of these sections describes more about the park’s history, bears and activities. At $9.95 (plus a $2.00 handling charge), these glossy booklets would make ideal gifts or serve as an excellent introduction to the person who is passing through and wants a quick introduction to the park’s fascinating features. There are also sections on where to stay both inside and outside the park-and much, much more on Glacier’s natural history.

Kayaking Kintla Lake

Though this new Falcon Guide book can be ordered from Globe Pequot, you can also order it from us. As well, you can order another Falcon book from us–or from them–about the Flathead Valley, which they published last year about this time.

Glacier is a National Park we know well for I once worked here on a trail crew and as a park ranger. In upcoming blogs I’ll be describing a few of its other natural history and historic aspects, specifically the 75^th Anniversary of Going-to-the-Sun Road.

ONE YEAR AGO:

Last Year about this time, I made two postings: One was about Boating in Alaska , the other about the spectacular profusion of Arrowleaf Balsam Root, which promises to be abundant once again.

©Bert Gildart: As a brief follow up to the postings written for my granddaughter about “Pero the Luckiest Mouse

Tme-honored relation, mouse & Owl

Alive” and about “Mice and Airstream Travel Trailers,” I want to add that, ecologically, mice rank high in the order of importance. In fact, if you enjoy owls and hawks and the occasional howl of the coyote, we’re lucky they’re here.

In this part of Montana (from a mammal book I wrote years ago for GNP), there are seven different species of mice-like creatures, and although the layman commonly refers to these rodents as mice, the biologist categorizes them as voles, lemmings and mice. Specifically, they include red-backed, montane heather, water, long-tailed and meadow voles. All are distinguished by their short hind legs, a short furred tail and ears that can just barely be seen. All five voles are distributed from our valley floor to alpine areas.

The lemmings of more northern fame are represented only by the bog lemming. This one, as its name implies, makes its home in wet bogs and meadows where there is a thick mat of ground vegetation. If its shorter tail is not noticed, it is easily confused with the voles. Lemmings are rare in Montana’s Flathead Valley.

Mice, as most people know them, are most typified in Glacier by two species, which may easily be distinguished from other mouse-like animals by their large, conspicuous eyes, ears and long tails. Specifically, I’m referring to deer mouse of yesterdays posting and to the western Jumping mouse.

All the above are essential to the existence of such predatory creatures as the Saw Whet owl, shown here. They are also, essential to all the valley’s other predators such as wolves and coyotes and the dozens of different hawks that constantly circle overhead. Without mice, these species would perish.

Except when “Pero” invades my Airstream, I’m happy they’re all here.

©Bert Gildart: Last night my six-year-old granddaughter called to tell me that she had read my posting on mice invading my Airstream. She hoped, she said, that I was encouraging their presence, just as I did when her mother (my daughter) had to contend with them as a child–the days when I worked summers in Montana’s Glacier National Park as a ranger and when we actually had wild mice as pets.

Pero, the luckiest deer mouse alive

At the time, we lived in a remote log-cabin ranger station in Cut Bank Valley surrounded by towering mountains inhabited by elk, grizzly bears–and mice. For my daughter, Angie, mice may have come to be pets out of some degree of boredom, but it all began one morning when we discovered a mouse struggling in our ceramic sink to keep its head above the water we’d left standing. Apparently, it had slipped, for ceramic provides no purchase. Angie wanted to save the forlorn-appearing creature from drowning, and so we reached into the sink with a spatula, intent on lifting it out. The mouse came out easily, for it was too weak to resist.

“Should I throw it out?”

“No, Daddy, let’s see if we can make it all better.”

And so we placed it in a cardboard box and then nursed it back to health. And all the while I thought this could be a wonderful learning experience. From a mammal book we quickly learned that a mouse that was dark on top and light beneath (protective coloration) was a deer mouse and that its generic name was peromyscus.

And, so, we called it Pero. Before long, Angie, seated, would have Pero climbing up her blue-jeaned leg. The trusting mouse dug in hard with its tiny sharp claws, knowing that when it ascended just above the bend of the knee that it would find some cheese, cracker crumbs or maybe even some scattered bread crusts. There it would nibble, peering at Angie with huge deer-like eyes that seemed to adorn. And, then, after feeding, Pero would clean itself thoroughly, for as we learned, deer mice belong to a group that is exceedingly fastidious.

Daughter Angie explained all this the other night to my granddaughter, and now Halle wants to know if I’m really going to kill one of these deer mice.

“Are you really going to kill Pero, Grandpa?” asked Halle, who so guilelessly sat on the lap of Santa Clause just a few weeks ago. “Can’t you trap them, alive?”

Of course I can, Halle; I have live traps. And maybe if I move them far enough away after trapping they won’t find their way back. But that’s not likely for scientists have marked deer mice and then proven the species has exceptional homing instincts.

Still, that’s my plan. I won’t kill Pero; I’ll move him. And should he return to our Airstream before we can leave on our trip into the Southwest, I guess I’ll have to move him or welcome him once again. And then, because deer mice are usually the most abundant of all mammals in a given area (probably why we hear owls each night), I guess I will also have to welcome any new friends he might have made on his journey back to his new home–our immaculate Airstream.

So have at it, Pero. (Pero, you may be the luckiest didly-durn mouse alive!) And since, God bless you, you make babies year around (as many as eight in each litter), the stuffing in our sofa (our bed, too) should make good nesting material, and we welcome you.

Isn’t that the least I can do for my daughter who has done such an extraordinary job of retaining environmental lessons from her childhood–and then passing them on?

©Bert Gildart: Snow Falling on Cedars is not only a great title for the classic book by David Guterson, but an apt description of a hike to Avalanche Lake in Glacier National Park our group made this past week.

Snow Falling on Cedars

As my sister, brother-in-law, wife and I hiked several days ago, snow was falling on the cedars, enough so that every now and then we could make out tracks of mice and other tiny creatures brave enough to scurry from beneath the protective covering of a log or cluster of rocks. As well, it was complementing the ice now forming in the gorge flanking the trail along which we hiked.

Avalanche Gorge

Avalanche Lake is reached first following a short boardwalk through an old stand of cedars that survived fires that raged through the area about 1910. From there the trail climbs two miles to a magnificent cirque where glaciers once performed their magic.

MAGNIFICENT SCENERY

Because of all the downed trees from a recent wind storm, it took about an hour to make this relatively easy hike. Of course, we were also slowed by the dramatic scenery along the way, which we often stopped to photograph. But before long, the trail topped out and we were presented with a view of massive mountains that surround the lake. As well, toward the lake’s upper end, we saw snow starting to bank up that in spring will avalanche onto the lake named for these thunderous occurrences.

When we reached Avalanche Lake, water levels were low, resulting from the scarcity of rainfall this past summer. We ate lunch at the lake, sitting on logs and studied the distant shore. Several other hikers told us they had seen a wolverine on the distant shore, and that indeed is a rare sighting. In my 13 summers as a back-country ranger in Glacier, I’ve seen but one, and nothing changed following our scrutiny of the other day.

TRANQUIL SCENE

As we continued to study the terrain we could see the dense and lush vegetation ringing the lake. The Continental Divide acts here as a rain shadow for the park’s west side, and the closer you get to the barrier, the more precipitation. The precipitation gives rise to all the cedars flanking the trail through which we just walked. It is the only area in the park where the species still exist.

Avalanche Lake

Normally at this time of year, the area is snowed in and the road to the Avalanche Lake trailhead is not accessible. But when it is, you have a perfect opportunity to hike one of the park’s most popular summer trails, and enjoy the first snows as they fall on the park’s community of cedars.

Grinnell Glacier in 1979

©Bert Gildart: Publication wise, this has been a good month for me, with four stories and a number of photographs in various publications. All my materials are in good magazines, but my most important story is one appearing in this issue produced by The Wilderness Society.

GLOBAL WARMING

My story in that magazine is about global warming and it required that I interview a number of well respected scientists. These men and women are the same types of scientists who have helped eradicate polio, map out the human genome, and who have sent astronauts into outer space. I was flattered they shared valuable time with me.

What is indisputable is that global warming is occurring, but what some of us still question is whether global warming is: man caused, part of a natural cycle–or both.

PRESTIGIOUS SCIENTISTS

Though the photographs included here were not part of my story for The Wilderness Society, they reflect changes that have occurred in my own back yard, specifically, Glacier National Park. I’ve taken these photos at various times over the past 30 years, the first shown here in 1979.

Grinnell Glacier, 2006

These three images dramatize the phenomenal change that have recently occurred. Doctor Dan Fagre, a global warming scientist in Glacier, considers Grinnell to be the “poster child of global warming.” He says that all glaciers in Glacier National Park will be gone by 2030–”if not sooner.”

The second photo, working from top to bottom, shows Grinnell Glacier in 2001–less than quarter of a century later. Once, as the first photo shows, Grinnell was a massive chunk of ice. In fact, in the early 1900s the glacier extended about a mile down the valley.

Obviously, Grinnell has shrunk in both mass and length, something easy to see by comparing photos. For reference, look at the small pointed peak just a little to the left of center. Then find that same peak in my first photo and examine the similar foregrounds. Compare the ice mass in the first photo with what now remains.

A GLACIER’S RAPID DEMISE

In fact, this once massive ice chunk has receded to such an extent that the name Grinnell Glacier has essentially been replaced by the name Grinnell Lake, or what you now see in the third photograph (and in my summer posting ). This photo was taken in 2005.

A massive glacier has been replaced by ‘Grinnell Lake’

Though this sequence of photos may not settle the question of what is causing global warming, it certainly does show the rapidity with which change is occurring in Glacier.

Read my story in the magazine produced by The Wilderness Society and you will see that similar changes are occurring throughout the nation.

Mountain Ash, symbolic of early fall in GNP

©Bert Gildart: Several days ago I visited with a very perceptive media representative who works in Glacier National park. In the course of our conversation, I said that with Logan Pass now closed for much needed repair work, essentially that meant the park was closed.

“No,” she said, it’s not closed. Virtually all the campgrounds are open, and you can still hike most of the trails.” And then she went on to say that it was fall-and after that there was no reason to say anymore.

She’s right, of course, it is fall, and that got me to thinking about all the times Janie and I have ventured into the park in late September clear on into mid and even late October. In fact, right now is the time to tour the park. Along the slopes paralleling the trail to Iceberg Lake, mountain ash berries are now a deep crimson.

Over near Two Dog Flats, elk are bugling, and all around colors are changing, and certain colors are intensifying. Granted, the Northwest doesn’t have the hardwoods so common in Eastern forests, but I defy anyone to show me a more beautiful setting than the one that results when cottonwood and quaking aspen are transformed from green to yellow and when they’re all back-dropped by mountains covered with a dusting of snow.

Though these photographs were taken over a period of several years, they suggest what you may expect to see in the next two to four weeks, for all were taken starting mid September.

Because I so thoroughly enjoy photography in Glacier in the fall, invariably I pack along a 4×5 with my 35mm equipment, just as I did several weeks ago on our trip to Two Medicine . Though 35mm works extraordinarily well for fast moving subject or for situations that require an instant response such as an elk bugling on a misty morning, for times when the winds die down and the peaks of Glacier are touched with snow, I love the 4×5. However, that doesn’t mean I’ll put aside my 35mm camera.

Red Eagle, Mahtotopa and Little Chief mountains

Last fall we were in New Jersey, and I needed photographs for publication. Winds however were kicking up, and that’s where my 35mm came in handy. The photographs satisfied my publisher and also enabled me to publish a blog (Leaves Fall and Birds Fly And I Wonder Why ) about the biological conditions that cause leaves to change.

Nevertheless, I like the 4×5 even though it’s cumbersome, and under the proper circumstances, I image myself joining Ansel Adam’s f-64 club and attempt to duplicate his technique, which called for tiny apertures and long exposures. (That also works for 35mm but isn’t so critical.) So doing, everything from the closest of objects to those most distant are in focus.

Chief Mountain

Because everything must be still, the technique requires patience, but if you look at these photographs and evaluate the depth of field, hopefully you’ll understand why I appreciate the 4×5-particularly for landscape images in Glacier National Park.

So, now, even though Logan Pass is closed, there’s still much to look forward to, just as managers are now suggesting. In other words, now is the time for Fall Foliage in Glacier National Park.

©Bert Gildart: Last week Janie and I joined daughter Angie and her husband Will Friedner and my granddaughter Halle Mae on a camping trip into what I like to think of as one of the most storied valleys in all of Glacier National Park. While hiking and learning a little something about grizzly bears (see photo of Halle below), we also learned a little about the significance of place names.

Sinopah, a Many Storied Mountain

To set the stage, I rose early one morning when the Two Medicine Lake was perfectly calm and photographed one of my favorite mountains in the park, Sinopah. Because it was one of the most perfectly calm and reflective mornings I’d seen in a long time, the scene called for the detail offered through the use of a 4×5 view camera. Though I can make wonderfully clear photographs with my Nikon D-200 up to 24 inches, with the 4×5 I can sell mural size photographs.

Referring to Sinopah, the center mountain in my reflection photograph, you can see that there are many mountains that surround it. These include Painted Teepee, Lone Walker and Never Laughs. Sinopah was the daughter of Lone Walker, who belonged to a Piegan Indian Tribe known as Never Laughs, and he gave her in marriage to Rising Wolf.

Rising Wolf, the mountain, is the backdrop for this now dismantled ranger station. The mountain is to the right of Sinopah-but not so far that the story loses its focus. I learned about the relationship of the people for whom these mountains were named during a cross-country ski trip in 1968 with two other rangers.

Halle Mae exaiming grizzly bear postings

At the time, I was attending college in Bozeman, Montana, working seasonally in Glacier and the trip was made during our spring break. One of the rangers, Jerry DeSanto, had brought with him a flask of wine and I recall that we sat around an old pot bellied stove and listened to him recount the stories. Jerry had completed all but his thesis for a doctor’s degree, but decided not to finish as he really wanted to be a ranger, not a college professor. However, his interest in history remained–and for that matter, still does .

Two Medicine Ranger Station once served as a layover for rangers patrolling the east side of Montana’s Glacier National Park. Rising Wolf Mountain, one of the park’s more famous monoliths, provides a backdrop for this turbulent winter scene.

Rising Wolf, the mountain, was named for Hugh Monroe, one of the first white men to see what is now Glacier Park. The Blackfeet [Indians] named Monroe “Rising Wolf” (Mahkuyi-opushsin, “The way the wolf rises”), and he (Rising Wolf) married Sinopah (Swift Fox). Her name is celebrated by the mountain in the first photograph above.

Monroe/Rising Wolf died in 1892 at the age of 93 and he is buried at Holy Family Mission near Browning, Montana.

Old Two Medicine Ranger Station, backdropped by Rising Wolf Mountain

Meanwhile, the ranger station provides little more than past recollections of the splendor of a Montana winter, for the buildings were removed about 25 years ago, shortly after I photographed the setting. Subsequently, the photograph has been published about 20 times in magazines, newspapers and books-whenever print media wants a picture that epitomizes a Montana winter. It was also purchased by Montana Magazine from my Christmas line and used one year by publisher Rick Graetz as his Christmas card selection. Not to undermine a good story with commercialism, but the Christmas card is still available and carries the above story.

The setting will always be one of my favorites, and I was pleased that I could explain the meaning behind Glacier National Park’s Many Storied Mountains for my granddaughter Halle Mae.

Glacier Park Lodging | Glacier National Park Cabins | Pro digital cameras | Hiking with kids

©Bert Gildart: How long can a moose hold its head under water? That’s a question not many people get a chance to resolve, but yesterday, at Two Medicine Campground in Glacier National Park, Janie and I had a chance to do ask that question.

Why Such A Long Nose?

Early yesterday morning, a cow moose with its calf passed through the campground, then wandered onto a small bog that was about 30 yards from our campsite. Though the yearling calf moved on before we could get set up, the cow stuck her long, long nose into the water. Then with a last roll of her eyes in our direction, she inserted her head, holding it there for about 30 seconds.

She knew we were there, and perhaps that was why she kept her ears out of the water on her first feeding. But as we watched her for a period that edged close to an hour, she grew more and more confident, soon immersing her head—ears and all.

How Long Can it Remain Submerged?

From research conducted long ago for a mammal book I wrote for the Glacier Natural History Association years ago, I learned that when a moose dips its head under water, the difference between the water pressure and the air pressure causes the nostrils to close. This long nose enables moose to locate food more easily, while the variation in pressures prevents water from flooding into its nose. Feeler-hairs on the over-sized nose further enable them to locate the best plants in the murkiest ponds—and to then feed for hours.

Moose, in fact, can eat 40-60 pounds of plants each day and it appeared that our cow would do it all in one very long “sitting.”

Bizarre Feeding Technique

Our moose had no interest in us and continued to munch and munch. She must have been ravenous, for she had swallowed most of what she clipped before raising her head. By my watch our cow held her head under water for almost two full minutes, but I don’t believe that is any sort of a record. Later I read that some observers have recorded moose holding their heads under water for over three minutes.

Though that’s not a time we recorded, nevertheless, we had a chance to ask the question, one of the rewards of gathering moose photos from Glacier National Park.

Marmot and Heaven’s Peak

©Bert Gildart: From the west side loop in Glacier National Park the trail to Grinnell Overlook is straight up. First you climb four miles to Granite Park Chalet, and then you hike about a mile to the spur trail that takes off from the Highline Trail. At the spur trail you climb about 500 more vertical feet—and then you’re there.

The view from the overlook is stunning. From the notch you peer down onto what used to be Grinnell Glacier, but because of global warming, the glacier has receded to the point where it is almost non-existent. Where the glacier once existed, it has been replaced in the last 10 years by Upper Grinnell Lake. Where once the glacier flowed down the valley toward Many Glacier, there is only rock, all of which unfolds from the notch and that you can clearly see about 1,000 feet below you.

For a while Matt Rigg, my hiking companion of the day, and I were alone, but soon we were joined by a young couple from Virginia. Their first comment was: “Wouldn’t it be great if George Bush were here!” Meaning, of course, that the obvious retreat might convince him that global warming should be taken seriously.

View from Overlook of retreating glacier, below

Truly, this is a place where science and beauty overwhelm. In addition to the staggering beauty of glacier cirques, there is also the abundance of various life forms in and around the Overlook. One of the first wild creatures to greet us was the not-so-wild hoary marmot, and one of them posed about five feet from my camera, enabling me to use a wide-angle lens to include Heaven’s Peak in the background. Years ago I climbed the peak, reminding me that I have great hopes of attempting another climb in about three weeks just south of Seattle.

But back to the here and now. Matt, who is fascinated by all forms of science (as am I), could not help but notice the abundance of huge chunks of rocks nearby with ripple marks. The rocks tell us that, once, they were laid down by vast inland seas, and that these particular chunks with their extensive ripple marks formed the shores of that sea. Then, about 40 million years ago, forces beneath the earth began to thrust upward, lifting that sea shore to where Matt and I stood this past Sunday—about 7,000 feet above sea level.

As we sat there, listening to marmots whistle and eating lunch, we watched as what appeared to be a small bee landed on our hands. The bee, however, was not a bee rather it was a fly, something I learned years ago in an entomology class. To better survive its many predators the fly has evolved to look like a bee. By so doing, it deceives possible predators, and they leave it alone. What a classroom Glacier can be…

Stromatolites, associated with ancient sea

Over the years (I once worked in Glacier as a ranger), I have been documenting the recession of Grinnell, and several years ago, as the glacier receded, I discovered that the rock exposed beneath the glacier was also exposing ancient stromatolites.

Stromatolites also existed in a marine environment, and that is the only place you’ll find similar creatures today. In fact they are an ancient form of algae, and several years ago I photographed them at the edge of what is now Upper Grinnell Lake. They too existed millions of years ago, but now, here they are, perhaps 6,000 feet above sea level.

Dr. Dan Fagre, showing dramatic recession

Though I tend to confine myself these days to travel writing and photography I am fascinated by this phenomena of global warming, something that is difficult for me not to accept. All scientific journals publish stories on the subject and all are peer reviewed.

None of the scientists dispute the evidence, only the popular media questions it, but they are obligated to do so for the sake of balance. And that I believe undermines the urgency of the problem. It’s real, and any who question whether or not it is occurring only need to visit Glacier National Park and hike to the Grinnell Glacier Overlook.

And when you do, invite George Bush to accompany you.

©Bert Gildart: Nineteen sixty seven was a dramatic time in Glacier National Park. Some of the park’s worst forest fires were raging, but what I remember most were the park’s first fatal grizzly bear maulings. I remember them because I was intimately involved, and this year, I’m remembering them as Backpacker Magazine is recalling them in their current issue. As well PBS is interviewing me—and others—asking us to recall our various involvements. They’re doing so now as this year marks the 40th year since those tragic times. Like most people, I don’t mind a bit of publicity, but am hoping the various publications will also focus on the good that came from these horrible tragedies. To some extent, that is what Jack Olsen did in his classic book, Night of the Grizzlies.

1967 Killer Bear, created by backcountry neglect

I was involved essentially because all permanent rangers were out fighting fires. In 1967 I was a road patrol ranger and though I wanted to be out fighting fire—and had asked for such consideration—the powers to be felt road patrol work was critical to visitor safety, and so my request was denied. As a result, I was one of the few rangers available when tragedy befell the two 19-year old girls.

On August 13, 1967, shortly after midnight I was piloting a huge truck over Logan Pass. Suddenly I heard a voice from Granite Park Chalet trying to reach headquarters, but failing because of poor transmission. Hearing the voice, from my location high up near Logan Pass, I served as a relay to headquarters, explaining medical attention was needed at Granite Park Chalet—that a young lady had been critically mauled…

That night I returned to my apartment in West Glacier about 3 a.m.

Several hours later, about 6:30 a.m., Norm Hagen, another seasonal ranger, woke me and said that I was needed immediately, that a young lady had been mauled at Trout Lake, and that I was to hike the four miles into Trout Lake and the Camas Creek drainage and see what I could find. Not surprisingly, I was confused, for I could not believe that yet another mauling had occurred. Sadly, Norm told me the young lady at Granite Park had died hours earlier.

Driving around lake McDonald to the trailhead I then rushed into Trout Lake and met Leonard Landa, who had left an hour or so prior to my departure. He was the seasonal ranger at Lake McDonald, and was waiting for some support before beginning a search. With my arrival and that of a helicopter flown in by John Westover who brought in the park’s engineer, Max Edgar, we formed an adequate search party. We all fanned out and began a search–hoping for the best.

Moments later, Leonard called out softly and announced that he had found the girl. We wrapped her in a body bag and Westover flew her out. The engineer left his rifle with me, and Leonard and I searched the valley for other campers and then provided an armed escort to the one remaining couple that we had located miles up the drainage.

Several days later, Leonard and I were dispatched to find the bear. We hiked back into the valley, then hiked up the Camas Creek drainage and spent the night in the park’s Arrow Lake Patrol Cabin. Early next morning (to make a long story short), I went outside to use the bathroom, and there, about 30 yards away, was a grizzly bear. I called for Leonard to bring out the rifles, and when the bear started moving toward us, we both fired. Both shots were fatal, one fired from a .300 H&H magnum, the other from a .30-06. A later evaluation of the bear confirmed we had shot the right bear (we’d been told to shoot any bear we saw, believing that any bear that didn’t run was a suspect bear). Later evaluation also revealed the bear had glass imbedded in its molars and that this was, in fact, a small emaciated 17-year-old sow, weighing less than 300 pounds.

Much the same thing was happening at Granite Park Chalet, though more bears were shot there as more bears had become “conditioned” to the presence of people.

About a week after the incidents, Ruben Hart, the park’s chief ranger and I flew by helicopter back to Trout Lake, and found so much garbage that the huge Hewey Helicopter didn’t have adequate space for just a single trip. In fact, many trips were subsequently required to clean up this backcountry campsite.

In fact, virtually all backcountry campsites had become dump grounds. Because of the conditions, these were tragedies just waiting to happen. In fact, the dual maulings created a national outcry demanding an evaluation of backcountry conditions, and the implementation of a Bear Management Plan, previously lacking.

At Granite Park Chalet, mangers there had been intentionally luring bears to the chalet to entertain guests. At the time, national park managers said they were unaware of the situation, but that was not the case, as David Shea, another seasonal ranger, and I had hiked to the chalet a week prior to the mauling, watched the feeding and reported on our findings to park headquarters. Others had done similarly.

With time the problems were corrected, and a bear management plan was implemented. Still, about ten years later, another mauling occurred, this time along Divide Creek near St. Mary. Once again, garbage was the culprit, and I focused on that for a major story I wrote for Smithsonian Magazine. The story also examined bear biology.

Today, the park has a well thought out management plan. In the broadest sense, the plan seeks to separate people and bears, and has mandates to help achieve that goal. For starters, regulations prohibit dogs from accompanying their owners into the backcountry. As well, they suggest people not hike alone, or if they do, make plenty of noise. The plan recommends women not hike during their menses. In 1967 all these factors now considered taboo were present. But at the time, no one had researched the delicate coexistence of man and bear.

The plan further specifies that bears that habitually frequent areas of human habitation are tranquilized and then relocated. If they return, they are euthanized. The plan requires that you suspend food some distance from your tent. Of course, I’ve only touched the surface, as you’ll discover if you visit any park service facility.

Is the Bear Management Plan working?

I think it is and when you consider that over 2-million people now pass through Glacier National Park annually, it’s to the park’s credit that most fatalities that do occur in the park are generally not from bear maulings. Stupid things do, however, still occur, and I’ve inadvertently been in situations where people have done unimaginable things, but by and large, the park is much safer today than it was 40 years ago—that awful Night of the Grizzlies.

Famous road belongs to spring cyclist

©Bert Gildart: Each spring the opening of Glacier National Park seems to be a gradual thing. The snow is cleared, but then a late season storm blows in undoing some of the work road crews have performed in attempting to open the 52-mile-long Going-to-the-Sun Road.

This year is no different, but there are some advantages to the gradual opening, particularly if you are a cyclist. Though the road is not quite suitable for vehicular traffic it is perfect for foot and bicycle traffic.

Often the portion of the road that is closed is the 15 mile section from Avalanche Creek Campground to Logan Pass, and so if you are a cyclist or a hiker you can be among the first to see this spectacular portion of Glacier.

Yesterday, I set out on my mountain bike for the 15 mile uphill ride to Logan Pass, knowing that the last few miles were still closed because of road construction. The rewards were immediate. Within the first half hour, a bear crossed the road. Five minutes later two deer poked their head out from the brush flanking McDonald Creek. Several other bikers had pulled over and were searching the rushing waters for Harlequin ducks. What’s more, the day was perfect with sun shinning on snow still lingering along peaks with names like Haystack Butte, Mount Oberlain, and Iceberg Peak.

No cars, more wildlife

Continuing my ride I began ascending in earnest the portion of the road where switchbacks become frequent. The grind was challenging, but I had been riding my bike almost every day for the past month, and the conditioning was paying off. Soon I passed Packer’s Roost, a camp used by horse packers taking food and equipment to one of the park’s chalets still in operation. Then a few minutes later, I came to the west-side tunnel which so perfectly frames Heaven’s Peak. The setting brought a flood of memories from all the years I worked in the park.

Shortly after graduating from high school I moved to Glacier National Park and one of the first things I was called upon to do as a seasonal trail crew employee was to fight fires along the slopes of Heaven’s Peak.

Curious deer along McDonald Creek

Next year, several other fellows and I climbed to the mountain’s summit. David Wilson was one of the young men and the following week he ascended Sun Mountain—then disappeared. We know he made the mountain’s summit as he signed the register on top of the peak, but after that he vanished and speculation continues to this day. Perhaps he fell; perhaps a bear got him.

Or maybe as Bob Frauson, district ranger at the time and our search leader speculated, he staged his disappearance and may one day turn up in South America. All that can be said with any certainty is that we searched for David Wilson for over a week, and never found a trace.

Continuing past the West Side Tunnel, the road continues on to what is known as the West Side Loop, and from here, you can command one of the most spectacular views of the fire of 1967—as well as several more recent fires as well. In Glacier, that was the year for both fires and bears, and was the night two girls were killed in two separate incidents by two different bears. I played an integral role in both incidents and some of those experiences are recounted in our new book. (The link will take you to Falcon Guides, then follow the thread to Books, and then to books categorized “Exploring.”)

Heaven’s Peak, less formidable than would appear

When I finally reached the furthest point to which I could cycle I stopped for lunch and was soon joined by several other cyclists. One couple (Nancy and Scott) were the first I’d met in a very long time who had actually lived in the valley for any length of time and who knew some of the same people I had known. In the past 15 years, the population of the valley has more than doubled, meaning that I don’t recognize many people any more.

Though the trip up required about 2 ½ hours, the trip down was accomplished in about 45 minutes—minus photographic stops. Because winter damage to the road this year was worse than normal, park officials say it will be late June or early July before the road passing over Logan Pass will be completely open. The drive is, of course, spectacular, one that Charles Kuralt called one of the nation’s most spectacular.

It’s a drive I, too, enjoy, but since the road is not open, that means for a few more weeks, cyclist pretty much have this most inspiring portion of Glacier all to themselves, and that’s something I don’t mind at all.

PURSUING PHOTOS AND PROSE

Bert Gildart: In part this is a story about a six year-old girl named Emma who may be one of the toughest little girls I’ve ever met. Emma is the daughter of Rich and Eleanor Luhr, and Rich is the publisher of Airstream Life Magazine. Currently, the Luhrs are parked in our driveway along with several other Airstream adventurers. They’re all friends that we’ve met in the course of our RV adventures and Janie and I had offered to show them the Flathead Valley.

Emma Trooping

Obviously one of the areas in the Flathead that everyone wanted to see was Glacier National Park, and because I once worked as a ranger in the park and have also written extensively about the park, they left it up to me to pick a trail that would be workable for everyone. My choice was the Highline Trail, a trail that leaves from Logan Pass, proceeds along a gorgeous segment of an area so lofty biologists describe it as the park’s Arctic Alpine region.