Greetings from Glacier National Park. Someone on the staff here discovered your blog the other day and showed me the haikus that you created at the park. It really made us smile. We just installed those exhibits about three weeks ago and were not sure how they would be received. It’s our attempt to reach out to different audiences, rather than have all of our exhibits be the same traditional formats. Hopefully people find them interesting. We loved that you were inspired enough to continue the haiku theme back at your campground.

We didn’t realize the haiku exhibit was so new! We loved reading them, of course. It was really nice to see something new and different. We liked how they invited us to ponder in the forest instead of attempting to fill us with statistics and figures. You can read facts and paragraphs anywhere. Strolling through the woods is special. The haiku exhibit enhanced the experience.

We hope this creativity catches on at other parks.

Jammin’ in Glacier / Avoid driving on the roads / Or write a poem.

Note: With the exception of Alaskan Amber and Red Hook ESB, I’d neither seen nor tasted any of these beers before.

Kokanee (Co-KEN-ee not Cocaine-y)

This is the light lager of choice. It’s Canadian. Molson and Labatt don’t seem to have much influence over here. Every bar serves Kokanee in Idaho and Montana. They even serve it at Alive After Five in downtown Boise and on Jeff’s sailboat. We’ve seen it everywhere. At bars it’s priced like a domestic. At stores it’s priced like an import.

Fresh like a 100-year-old glacier!

Olympia Lager

This stuff is cheap, like Schlitz in the Midwest. We first saw it in Utah, 3.2 version naturally. Not bad – just your basic swill beer and sometimes that’s exactly the beer you want. The regular version is better and still way cheap (under $8 per 12 pack cheap).

Seattle swill beer.

Rainier Lager

One more reason to like Seattle in my opinion. I like stouts and ales and IPAs and the full-bodied stuff too, but on a warm day, a lager sure hits the spot. We had these while camping below Mount Rainier, naturally. Brewed with local, Yakima Valley hops.

Yakima Valley hops make it yummy.

Alaskan Amber and Summer

Fat Tire, basically the default craft brew of Colorado, plays second fiddle to Alaskan Brewing Co in the Northwest and northern Rockies. This stuff is everywhere. Nearly every bar carries the Amber. In Seattle, yes, there’s Redhook, but Alaskan seems to be everywhere Redhook is too. In Montana and Idaho, it appears to be king. For good reason too — the beer is good. I had a co-worker that would bootleg it to Chicago because it was her favorite. I’m not sure it’s that good, but it is fun to think of Alaska while drinking a beer.

Whales love to get drunk in the summertime.

Bozemon Amber

Picked this one up outside of Yellowstone before the reality of Montana struck. Not bad. Fat Tire is still my favorite amber though (and Lisa’s favorite beer).

Crazy state medicine.

Grand Teton Amber and Pale Ale

Grand Teton Brewing Company is based out of Idaho. We had some of their beers in Grand Teton National Park. Tasty stuff, but shouldn’t the brewery be in Wyoming?

Warning: Consumption of too many of these may lead to the flashing of Tetons.

Tallgrass Buffalo Sweat

Well, we had this one in Glacier after striking out at the local dining establishment. Not a bad beer, but not exactly from the area. It’s brewed in Kansas, but it had the world ‘buffalo’ in the name so I had to get it … and because all microbrew cans were the same price at the store and this one was 16 ounces.

The buffalo makes it local.

Hilliard’s Amber Ale

We walked or drove by Hilliard’s probably six times before finally trying their beer. The 4-pack is nearly $10 at the store. Ouch. But it’s good and the cans are big. Too hoppy for Lisa, about perfect for me. Sort of an IPA meets Fat Tire taste. The hipsters of Ballard probably love this beer. Dale Chihuly’s crew probably drinks here after work — his studio is down the block.

Hilliards’s Hipster Ale.

Red Hook ESB

Probably Seattle’s best-known beer for good reason — it’s good. Makes me thirsty for Fuller’s ESB and our trip to London. Yum. I finally had a pint on the ferry to Bainbridge Island. Great setting for a beer.

Enjoying a Red Hook ESB on the Bainbridge Island Ferry.

One beer we didn’t try: Churchkey Can Co’s pilsner. Each six-pack comes with an old-timey opener (you can’t open the cans by hand). The beer company is named ‘can co’ not ‘beer co’ … as in the can is the main event, the beer is just in it. They were featured on Tech Crunch, lamely, as a high-tech start-up. Lame, as I said, but hipsters: this beer is your new king. Throw away whatever remaining stock of PBR you have, toss out your Hilliard’s, this beer is for you. Just get your wallet out. It’s expensive.

So it’s been tasty lately. I love how these beers were entirely off our radar until we ended up in the right part of the country. Makes me happy to realize that sort of stuff still happens. What a boring place the world would be if we all drank the same beer.

Paul

The Large Man Hiketh and Contemplates the Second Helping of Fried Chicken He Had at Lunch

Waddle. Step. Regret.
The path is long like my belt.
Heft the food baby.

The Nuanced Gun Laws of the National Parks

Your gun is legal,
but you mustn’t discharge it.
That’s against the law.

Seeking Nature … Kinda

Scary grizzly bear.
Bring spry, bells, shouts, songs, sneakers.
You’ll never see one.

Pissed Off at Pistons

Thanks, motorcycle.
Thank you, diesel-engine truck.
I’m sick of quiet.

An Obscure Encino Man Reference Sums Up Our Travels

Nine months on the road.
The cheese is old and moldy.
Where is the bathroom?

Lamenting the Bottom of the Boxed-Wine Bladder

Three liters of wine
is four regular bottles.
Gone too soon again.

Hiking in the National Parks With Every Other Citizen of the World

Solitude in groups
is elusive and fleeting.
Take what you can get.

Lisa

I left my haikus untitled – they’re pretty straightforward.

Writing haiku and
drinking wine after a hike
all’s well in Glacier

Yesterday I said
I may be ready to quit
but today I’m not

I do like to work
but I hate having a job
Jeff says with a grin

The van, it smells like
cheese, and feet, and sometimes dust
but it’s home to me

Feel peace descend when
the trail clears and up ahead
Just you and a view

Warm beer t’aint so bad
when the sun is beating down
’tis better than none
(inspired by our attempts to use t’aint, c’aint, and h’aint in a haiku)

Wearing brown green tan
I’m a real nature girl now
a part of the woods
(Paul quote: ‘Real’ has one syllable unless you’re talking about Real Madrid!)

I love the desert
alive despite all the signs
here I feel at home

Must we really age?
No: when we are old, we’ll have
our young memories

Do you remember
when it was cold and we froze
but we were alone

Do you remember
drinking champagne under stars
stars in our glasses

Paul working through a difficult haiku.

“Seasonal” vegetables.

Let me take a step back. In Glacier, we celebrated our 9-month on the road anniversary. We were in the Many Glacier area and we decided to splurge a bit at the Swiss  Lounge and grab some food and a couple beers. The place just felt like it was only there to take our money. Nobody seemed to care about us having fun or enjoying ourselves. The food was a joke — cheesy soup pretending to be fondue served with “seasonal vegetables” (that’s what the menu called them), baby carrots, broccoli florets, and celery sticks. Seasonal? No – season-less vegetables. The place was a train wreck — the ordering system supposedly crashed so orders were being doubled and screwed-up and the beer tap system was broken so only cans were available. It wasn’t worth it. They didn’t really want us there. The place just wanted our money. I wish we hadn’t given it to them.

But I didn’t think much of it until Moose’s. Moose’s isn’t some pinnacle of culinary achievement, but they seem to want patrons to have a pleasurable experience. The beers are cheap but small. The pizza is fine, but it’s fun. There’s something else in play. I don’t know how to describe it but I know it when I see it. They wanted us to enjoy ourselves, wanted to make our lives a bit better.

And all this, because of NPR, is making me think about politics. Wouldn’t it be great if we knew which politicians were seeking election in hopes of making our lives better instead of just trying to win a job, make money. Man, if I can just figure this out, how to tell. I don’t care the party, just want to do a good job (within reason, Nurse Ratched), want to improve things for people, and I’ll vote for you.

And serendipity provides (via Facebook). I just saw this:

“You are not here merely to make a living. You are here in order to enable the world to live more amply, with greater vision, with a finer spirit of hope and achievement. You are here to enrich the world, and you impoverish yourself if you forget the errand.”
― Woodrow Wilson

Now THAT is what makes a good restaurant.

Frozen crust; warm atmosphere.

Or at least it would, if everything wasn’t still buried in snow.

We were warned by a crazy campground host on the way to Glacier that the entire park was still snowed in, that the pass wasn’t open, and that we wouldn’t even be able to get in. It wasn’t that bad, but every trail I wanted to hike was still snowed under. In July! It’s amazing. If you really want to hike the high elevation trails, you’ve got to visit Glacier in August or September, but you’ll be risking new snow in late September. And that means that everyone else is also trying to visit in August or September. May we suggest the shuttle?

In between the rain and snow and crowds, we managed to find some sun and incredible beauty on the trails that were open in Glacier:

Lake McDonald.

Bear Grass was blooming in the lower elevations. Bear Grass has nothing to do with bears, or with grass.

Future huckleberries?

Trail to Redrock Lake and points beyond.

A section of Redrock Falls.

The Many Glacier section of the park.

Looking up Sherburne Lake towards Many Glacier.

Along the Going to the Sun Road.

The trail I was excited to hike: closed.

Paul got this shot of people hiking the trail to Hidden Lake.

A closer view of people on the “trail.”

Dramatic clouds at Logan Pass.

Paul got this shot of traffic on the Going to the Sun Road — my worst nightmare kind of drive.

Looking across the valley towards Hidden Lake.

Hiking through mossy woods near Avalanche Lake.

Avalanche Lake reflection.

Closeup of the waterfalls behind Avalanche Lake.

Paul’s black and white take on Avalanche Lake.

People at Avalanche Lake. We found a quiet spot and spent some time contemplating which waterfall we liked best (I picked lefty, Paul picked righty).

Us, refreshed by nature.

Gopher hunting: Montana Official State Pastime.

The first clue was the Inside Bozeman magazine we grabbed in Gardiner, MT. Most of the articles were interesting, but one advised readers to look no further than gopher hunting if they were searching for some good, wholesome recreation. Gopher hunting, with a .22 or a slingshot or a blowgun. Presumably because the last issue was about what fun it is to shoot coyotes, their predators. The article closed with a recommendation to ask landowners permission before blasting away at every gopher you happen to see. Good call – ask permission before discharging a firearm on somebody’s property and killing the wildlife living there, somebody that also probably owns guns and is versed in whatever stand-your-ground law they have in place here.

Then, on our first night camping in the state, the campground host tells me why Chicago has so much crime – its gun laws. Not enough people own guns in Chicago. Oh, really? I don’t think the guy had ever been within 500 miles of Chicago – probably gets his news from the NRA Times. “Yep,” he told me, “everybody out here has three or four guns.” Which is why there’s so little crime he explained. Forget the fact that nobody has anything worth stealing outside of their guns. Forget the fact that towns contain a few dozen families, all a bit interrelated, so committing a crime would likely result in robbing a second cousin. And forget the statistics that say Montana has essentially the same rate of property crime as Illinois (IL does has more frequent violent crime). Whatever, dude. Enjoy stroking your blued barrels. We say something about wanting to move west. “I would,” the man that’s never been to Chicago says. Thanks for the endorsement.

Finally, while passing through Hot Springs, MT, we stopped for gas at a gas station / casino / deli / absolute fucking train wreck. I should admit that I don’t know what the deal is with casinos here – they’re like coffee shops and they’re everywhere in Montana. I tried to go to the bathroom – it was not yet 11AM and we’d been driving for a while. There was a drunk taking a piss without the door locked, so I ended up barging right in on him. I had an excuse — he was wearing a camouflage jacket so I didn’t see him. He was speech-slurring drunk, wobbly-walk drunk. Probably pissing all over the toilet drunk. Before lunch. I browsed the aisles and killed some time. Somebody that referred to him as ‘brother’ eventually pulled him out … probably put little ‘him’ away too. So I let some time pass, then tried the door again. Two four-year-old kids taking a piss together looked up at me as I again barged into the bathroom that apparently has a lock that nobody wants to use. I learned my lesson – I wasn’t going to pee there. I grabbed Lisa and we sped out-of-town.

And, as if on cue, as I’m writing this at our campsite a car stops, backs up, reverses. The driver exits. I get up to talk to him and see what’s going on and maybe get a bullet in the chest. We’d found a blown-over tent near the river and I figured the guy was coming to retrieve it. That or shoot us.

“We couldn’t see your license plate – thought it was Missouri,” he says. His buddy rolls down his window. They ask where we’re from. I say Chicago.

“Oh, Chicago. You’re from a BIG city!”

Indeed. I really don’t know what to say to these guys. I ask where they are from.

“Oh, we’re from around here. We’re just cruising around, drinking some beers.”

“I had a buddy from Chicago in college!” the other one says. “Used to sing ‘Chicago is my kinda town‘ while walking along the halls.”

I should add that these guys are maybe 80 years old. I think one was wearing a WWII hat, could have been WWI. Old men. Just cruising. Montana!

But I get a kick out of them. We chat for a little while, shoot the shit. Maybe this state isn’t so bad. Cruising around, drinking some beers, I guess I can understand that.

Anyway, Montana wasn’t what I expected. I was expecting Colorado, a more mountainous Vermont, but Lisa put it best when she described it as Northern New Mexico. It’s a bit weird here.

We’re in the Glacier National Park area enjoying the dramatic views. Who needs fireworks when you have glaciers in July?

Other than that, we just celebrated our nine-month on-the-road anniversary. Whoopie! It’s been fun. Next stop: Seattle … with a bunch of detours before then.

Avalanche Lake, happy travelers.