A brief digression: Lewis and Clark Expedition

In my last post I mentioned Lewis and Clark, who supposedly named bear grass and also were credited with naming the grizzly bear.

Lewis and Clark might not have had the successful expedition for which they’re famous if it were not for a young Shoshone woman named Sacagawea (Bird Woman). 

Sacagawea was the wife of a French trapper, and Lewis and Clark engaged the couple’s services in 1804 when they reached an area in what is now North Dakota.  Sacagawea helped them find edible plants and foods squirreled away by critters for winter; her presence made the group seem less of a threat, helping avoid conflict with the native population. She and her French husband could act as interpreters with the French and the Native Americans. And her link to the Shoshone facilitated the purchase of horses for the expedition.  Sacagawea’s life is, in many ways, a mystery, but her role in the success of the Lewis and Clark expedition is unquestioned.  There are statues, monuments, and landmarks named for her, but I’m not sure any are as beautiful as Bird Woman Falls in Glacier National Park.

Bird Woman Falls (taken earlier in the trip)

For more information on Sacagawea, please visit: http://www.history.com/topics/native-american-history/sacagawea 

And it's on to Iceberg Lake.

Back to the US side; Swiftcurrent Lake

At the end the day, we leave Waterton and return to the US side of the International Peace park, to Many Glacier Hotel.  The Great Northern Railway built this hotel, like the Granite Park Chalet, near the beginning of the 20th century.  On the shores of Swiftcurrent Lake, the surroundings are--as usual-- breathtaking.

Grinnel is the point to the left across Swiftcurrent Lake

After we settle in, we   end the day with a cookout.  Hardly roughing it, are we?

From our woodsman/guide/sommelier to our Chef/guide/naturalist, to all the rest of us (somewhat weary) travelers, there is a lot of laughter as we enjoy the evening, the wine, and talk about where we’ve been and where we're going.... and began to realize our adventure is nearing an end.  With that in mind, we have mixed emotions as we all say goodnight.

We rise to a beautiful sunny morning. The clouds have dispersed, and we’re up to a fresh challenge...sorta.  The options are a hike to Grinnell Glacier (eleven miles; 1,700 foot elevation) or a hike around Swiftcurrent Lake --  three-and-a-half miles with no significant elevation. 

While I want to see the ice caves and crevasses of Grinnell, my knee tells me I would be better to save it for the last hike tomorrow, to Iceberg Lake.  So I enjoy a short hike on the Nature Loop around Swiftcurrent Lake.

View from loop around Swiftcurrent Lake

As I approach the end of this series on Glacier National Park, I’m looking at pictures I have yet to share and information I have not yet posted.

Colombian ground squirrels make frequent curious appearances.  

Colombian ground squirrel

You may recall this was the Big Horn sheep whose appearance held me back for photos and awe... until I realized how far ahead of me the group was.

Fireweed (above) is one of the first plants to grow after a forest fire.

Bear Grass- first given that name by the Lewis and Clark Expedition

The Lewis and Clark expedition set off to explore the Louisiana Territory at the beginning of the 1800s. It was their expedition that first gave the name ‘Bear Grass’ to the plant you see above and among the trees below .  

Rumor is that they also were the first to name the grizzly bear ‘Ursus Horribilis’--Latin for ‘horrifying bear’.  While the description is accurate, the naming rights actually belong to naturalist George Ord.  L&C had based their ‘grizzly’ description on the bear’s fur.  In 1814,  Ord named it for its other charms.

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The Trail to Rowes Lake

The  day dawns miserably cold and rainy.   Erik goes with the suggestion of Waterton guide, Carey, that we take an easier route than originally planned, partly because of the weather and partly because the people who’d hiked yesterday are more than a little tired. I empathize with those feeling the strain.   I also confess I am relieved that I’m not the only person who needs to ease my way back into full activity.

Our revised plan takes us on the trail to Rowe’s Lake.  My photo records may not be 100% accurate (I blame this level of activity --all new to me--12 miles in a day without a helicopter to pick me up when I’m tired? ). Using the Internet and checking with my travel-mates, I’m trying to verify that the locations I attribute to pictures are accurate, but I once again urge you to comment or correct if appropriate.  

Trail to Rowe’s Lake

The Writer Crosses a Stream

The above was obviously taken by someone else  because I’m the one crossing the log.  Please bear in mind the woman crossing that plank-like bridge was, not too long ago, afraid of heights; would never have crossed something that narrow for fear of falling (even though it would not have been a huge fall).   

Rowe’s meadow

In the course of the three-and-a-half mile hike to Rowes Lake, we had rain, snow, hail, and sun, each on more than one occasion.  I and a few others choose the short version of the hike, coming back after lunch in the meadow.  Moderately working my way back into the full activity level seems the wiser move, and I am not alone on my ‘short’ hike (of 7 miles, round trip).

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Waterton and Goat Haunt

The weary group that gathers for dinner in the elegant Waterton Hotel is feeling the day’s 11-mile hike.  All of us, not just me.  But my knee is telling me that I might not be doing any climbing tomorrow.  I think again, I didn’t come all this way to turn around,‘  I wonder what my options are....

Then Erik tells us.  The next day’s adventure will be a 12 mile hike on the Carthew Pass trail, a gain about 2,200 feet in elevation, go through old growth forest and lead to fields of wildflowers and bear grass.  After dinner, I tell Erik I don’t think I can do it. 

Here’s one of the best things about traveling with a guide on a well-planned tour.  Erik agrees that if my knee is bothering me in the morning, an easier day is in order.  He arranges for me to visit Goat Haunt, a location back in the Montana side of the park, accessible from Waterton by boat.  With tickets and directions in hand I retire to ice my knee and rest.

I join the group for breakfast, then retreat for an easy morning while the others are climbing the Carthew Pass Trail.  At mid-morning,  I head to the boat (with tickets Erik provided) to Goat Haunt, Montana.

Boat trip to Goat Haunt

The largest peak as we approach is Mt. Olson, --- I *think* this is a view of it

I have not yet found out why it's called 'Goat Haunt';  I do know that it's the main connection of Glacier and Waterton Parks is at the southern end of the Upper Waterton Lake (hence the boat).   It is the first ranger station a hiker on the Continental Divide Trail will reach. Here you can see the International Peace Park agreement that created the Waterton-Glacier International Park.  

Since we’re crossing national boundaries, visitors have to clear customs and immigration, showing appropriate documentation (i.e. a passport) or they'll be staying in the area near the station and dock.   Once I am cleared,  I choose a short, fairly flat hike toward Rainbow Falls.  Even this tamed-down version for today brings me to beauty that still strikes me.

Ranger Station

Rainbow Falls, Goat Haunt

Between the late start (I was a little too busy pampering myself) and the time I took to enjoy the view,  I almost missed the last boat back to Waterton.  I don’t know if you can imagine my surprise when one of the rangers told me the last boat was ready to leave, and then I learned it was not the boat I was supposed to take.  They kindly let me board and took me back ‘home’.  

At dinner that night the guides reminded people who wanted ‘foot work’ to be in the lobby early the next morning, before the hike.  I was confused… I thought maybe there was a pre-hike exercise program, or stretching or …dancing?  

Turns out ‘foot work’ means bandaging feet, popping blisters, addressing injuries…  People on this trip were not novices and had worked to prepare for the adventure.  But hiking takes its toll....Even Gumby had some issues.

Gumby at GNP- knapsack (sorta), bandaged knee, and a hiking pole.

Gumby?

My friend and her office mates used to take Gumby traveling and photograph him in new places.  I saw her doing it in Versailles, and I thought Gumby would bring some humor to my classroom--and give me an opening for geography lessons.  So my own Gumby travels with me now (yes, even now).  At this moment,  he’s perched on my world map with the pins marking where I’ve been, awaiting his next adventure.

*  I have to confess at this point that, whether because of the strenuousness of the activity, my excitement at the beauty around me, or the discomfort that was sometimes hindering me (or a combination) some of the information in my journal, including photo data and descriptions may be ...off.  Dear Reader, if you have corrections or additions, please feel free to comment.  Or if you're in my email list, feel free to respond to me directly and I'll incorporate your info with or without credit, as you choose.  Thanks.  DG 

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Say What? and on to Waterton

Back to hiking....

As we hike, we form a column of determined adventurers.  This works well on narrow trails, and allows people to go by us in either direction.  It also leads to some creative bear deterrence from the guides. As we move, there are calls and responses betweeen the leaders in the front and back--- enough noise to make it clear we’re coming through. The first time I hear “Yo Yogi!”  and “Yo BooBoo!”, I think the guides are just trying to amuse themselves.  They succeed, and they keep us laughing (and keep bears away).  

There are a few other humorous moments.  When Stacey, the Glacier Park naturalist and guide, provides some information, the people closest to  her hear what she’s saying, and those of us who are either ahead or behind catch only a few syllables as we pause and gather around. At one point Stacey is pointing and I hear…   “…ol… ea…i…ating…”

I look in the direction I think she’s pointing and think, “There are  … “P ol ar …b ea rs migrating”  That sounds ridiculous.   

Behind me someone asks, “There are flying beagles hydrating???”

That sounds equally ridiculous.  Then we all see where Stacey is pointing...

Golden Eagle Migrating

Not ridiculous.  Spectacular.

The miles of hiking takes its toll on my knees, so I focus on the view...like the regal Golden Eagle or the views of Grinnell Lake from the Garden Wall.

Grinnell Lake

After leaving the Chalet, we descend about half a mile in only 4 miles. At this point, while we intrepid few have hiked, stopped for a snack at the Chalet, and moved on, Eric has run back to the starting point, brought the van around to the end of the trail, and made his way up to join us.  I am humbled by his speed and skill.

and grateful.

By the time we reach the end of the ‘loop’, everyone feels the day’s exertion.  Going downhill jams your toes into the front of your boots and demands a lot of your knees....funny how that doesn't occur to me going up.  

It is with satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment that we reach the end of our first hike, congratulate each other, and get in the van to head north to Waterton, the other part of the International Peace Park.   Our accommodations for the evening are the other end of the spectrum from the Granite Park Chalet--we’re at the Prince of Wales Hotel.

Prince of Wales Hotel in Waterton

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Bears (again)

Since my blog entries turned to hiking, it may seem to you that I’m obsessed with bears.  In my defense, each tour begins with safety information and instructions on what to do if we see a bear. I’ll spare you the repetition, but will elaborate a little so you understand how I feel.

I am fascinated with an animal so intimidating that Lewis and Clark expedition, on seeing their first grizzly, named it ‘Ursus Horribilis’-- the Horrible Bear.  And Glacier National Park is bear country--both the ‘harmless’ black bears (that are not always really black or harmless) and the grizzly.  

Bears are likely to attack when they are startled,  when protecting their cubs, or when hungry and unintimidated by the ‘prey’. So we make noise (hence my very bad rendition of ‘Making Whoopee’) to avoid startling them. And if we’re a little on the quiet side as we’re hiking, someone in the front calls out somethng like  ‘Yo, bear!’ and someone at the back replies something equally clever like,  ‘Yo Yogi!” or  ‘Yo, BooBoo!‘  The first time I heard ‘Yo bear!’ I thought it meant there was a bear nearby and I almost climbed a tree (which is useless because grizzlies can climb). But once I realized we were safe, I found the 'protective calls' funny.  Picture it...a line of adults on a trail in the woods calling out 'Yo, BooBoo!' every few minutes.

So we often sounded a little silly.  But we were safe.  At one point, we saw the claw marks a bear had made on a tree and I took a photo of one of our group near the marks for perspective:

Those marks are made by some serious claws. 

Toward the end of the trip, I buy a couple books about the bears.   It's good that I read them after I visit Grizzly Land. The first, Night of the Grizzlies  by Jack Olsen*, which describes events from 1967 (long before my trip), relates the events of a summer at Granite Park Chalet when trash was accumulating, bears were gathering, tourists where enjoying the daily bear shows, and....this was not a good thing.

The other book is Mark of the Grizzly, by Scott McMillion **  The first story is about a Granite Park Chalet incident.  By incident, I mean an encounter in which a hungry bear got a very good meal ....

For a harrowing true story of human-grizzly interaction, consider the movie, Grizzly Man, a 2005 documentary by Werner Herzog that tells of Timothy Treadwell, who spent thirteen years living with the bears of Alaska.  To see a trailer, check https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gWycuaWJFCM/   More than once in this movie, someone makes the point that while Treadwell's 'friendship' with the bears was an act meant to protect them and their environment, his behavior ignored basic bear facts and ultimately was  a fatal mistake.

I have digressed from stories of *my* trip to Glacier partly because of my fascination with/terror of bears, and partly because Glacier National Park IS grizzly country.  There is a good reason for the rule, ‘Pack it in, pack it out.‘   It is not a good idea for grizzlies to get too familiar with humans or see them as food providers of any sort (even if it’s trash).  Grizzlies will never- never- see you as friends; food, maybe, but not friends.

*  © 1969 and 1996  Homestead Publishing, Moose Wyoming

** © 1998, Globe Pequot Press

Fighting Fire with Fire

Only when I began to travel did I learn the real meaning of the phrase, ‘fight fire with fire.’ 

Earlier I noted that my trip to Glacier National Park was a while ago and the Trapper Creek Fire of 2003 had since destroyed about 20,000 acres of the park.  In my last post,  the Chalet is surrounded by trees.  I looked at some more recent photos online-- it doesn’t look the same.  The chalet remains, but there are fewer trees.

People are a primary cause of fires, but fires started by lightning strikes cause more destruction than human error.  That doesn’t make the lightning strike fires better.  But fire is a part of a natural cycle.  

Before humans moved into areas previously populated by only animals and plants, that natural cycle worked fairly well (usually).  Fires can open up a forest canopy, enabling sun to promote new growth, or burn scrub in the grasslands with the same affect. Some seeds--certain pine cones, for example-- need the fire’s heat to open and take root.  Ashes  nourish  new plants.   Insects make new homes in the burned trees and attract birds. Some trees--certain oaks, for example--withstand fire better than others, so the loss of competing vegetation helps them survive.   And so the chain renews, life persists. 

When humans stepped in, those who depended on hunting for food  found forests could be a hindrance.  Then they discovered (probably learning from nature) that a little fire could reduce the underbrush and create a path leading game closer to hunters.  

We don’t depend on hunting anymore, and all over the world we’ve populated areas that once were wild. So now a fire that lets the sun shine or clears the scrub also threatens homes and lives.  Over time, we’ve also learned that we can manage fire.  

A controlled or prescribed burn fights fire with fire.  It reduces  the  naturally occurring accumulation of dead matter on the ground that could otherwise fuel wild fires.  Like those ancient hunters, we’ve learned to use fire to our benefit.

An example:  in May, 2016 WNEP channel 16 in Pennsylvania  reported that a brush fire was a ‘controlled burn’ to reduce the wildfire risk and improve the native animals’ natural habitat.

http://wnep.com/2016/05/10/brush-fire-along-casey-highway-is-controlled-burn/

Naturally occurring fires seem to have a four to twenty year cycle, depending on the normal accumulation of waste in the ecosystem.  Now that we've populated so many areas that once might have burned every four to twenty years,  we can't just let nature run it's course.  We have learned that we need to manage the ground waste with controlled burns in order to protect ourselves, at least to some extent, from massive destructive fires.

Is climate change affecting the severity of fires?   I leave that for the experts.  For me, though, the natural cycle is a reminder of the order of things, the immensity of the planet, the systems that compose it, and our teeny little place in the system...even if we do think we know better.

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To the Granite Park Chalet

We’re hiking to the Granite Park Chalet, where we’ll stop for another break and then move on.  There’s a gradual climb.  I note some other trails as we progress,  one going up to the top of the Continental Divide--but it’s a steep climb (about 900 feet in half a mile), we have a destination and time isn't on our side (especially on this slow hiker's side) so we continue to the chalet.

As I try to keep up with the group, a big horn sheep steps forward just ahead of me to the side of the trail. I must take pictures.  I am so focused on this guy I don’t notice where I'm standing or how faint my friends’ voices are becoming.

Then I realize that, though I’m not exactly alone, my group is far enough ahead of me that I get a little nervous. I hope the sheep doesn’t decide to knock me over, and I  start moving as fast as I can, thinking, " I'm alone in bear territory."  (If you followed my blog for a while you know I have this thing about bears....) I’m trying to remember all  I’ve learned about "bear safety".  One was stay with your group (whoops).  

Another was make noise, so I start singing loudly, the first song that pops into my head, "Makin’ Whoopee’*.  So I’m hiking, I’m singing--more like barely tuneful shouting: “Another bride, Another groom, another sunny honeymoon, another season, another reason.....”*

Imagine the look I get when I reach the guide at the back, who’s been going slowly to enable me to catch up. The looks suggests she thinks maybe speed isn’t my biggest problem.  I stop singing. Onward to the Granite Park Chalet, trying to act normal. 

The Great Northern Railway built several accommodations in the early 20th century, but the chalet, built in 1914, is one of the last back country lodgings still in use.  The chalet, just below the tree line,  is on a ledge of rock  that formed millions of years ago, probably as an eruption from an undersea volcano.**

Whatever you think when you hear ‘chalet’... forget it.  Our guides seem to pronounce it, ‘shallee‘ which helps dispel the image of a castle. Bring your own water (or can buy water there); plan on using a pit toilet (can be better than a tree).  Do not plan on room service. Plan to cook your own dinner (you can order food ahead of your arrival but you're the chef). Do not bring stinky food that attracts predators.  Do not plan a shower.  

Do plan to enjoy the view as you hike, from the immensity of the mountains towering over you to the tiniest flowers forcing their way out of the earth.  Once again, this puts everything into perspective, 

These flowers bloom just a few short months in the long cold seasons up here... 

wildflowers (yellow alpine buttercups, purple harebells, 

red fireweed,)

fireweed

As for the Chalet....There are  dormitory-like sleeping quarters with bunk beds, and visitors can use their own sleeping bags or arrange in advance to rent linens. Definitely not what you think when you first read 'chalet'.  But no one is here for the accommodations--we are all here to enjoy this vast and amazing space, and we’re just stopping for a break.  I eat a pear saved from lunch, savor the view, and then ask, “Where do I dispose of the core?’  

A new lesson for me... ‘Pack it in, pack it out.”  

That sounds like simple, logical advice.  As I’m wrapping my leftovers up to take with me, I don’t yet know the importance of this and the tragedies that led to this policy.

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*Published and released in 1928, lyrics by Gus Kahn, music by Walter Donaldson.     To appreciate what this song could sound like, hear Dr. John do it http://tinyurl.com/Dr-John-Making-Whoopee.  

** Much in this and the following post that led to current policies in the national park came from Night of the Grizzlies, by Jack Olsen, Homestead Publishing (Moose, Wyoming) Coyright 1969 and 1996.