The Garden Wall II

Jessica Stickseed (Hackelia micrantha).

Other delightful surprises kept showing up along the trail: blue forget-me-not like flowers (Hackelia micrantha), a wild clematis with drooping blue flowers (Clematis occidentalis), so many other flowers that I couldn't begin to guess at! I wish I could have had an expert botanist with me, I'm sure one could have pointed out so much more than I could take in.

Native clematis (Clematis occidentalis)

Along the trail.

Mountain Death Camas (Anticlea elegans)

Going to the Sun Road below the trail.

As the trail wound around thickets of subalpine firs and some very steep hillsides, it was now several hundred feet above the Going to the Sun Road. The lush vegetation of the Garden Wall began to thin out and become more like grassland. Fields of bear grass in bloom dotted the slopes.

Looking towards Haystack Butte.

Looking down a chute.

looking toward Haystack Butte.

I hadn't encountered any hikers for a while, and it had stopped raining when I turned around and saw this tiny creature on the trail right behind me. I'm still trying to figure if it was a Pika, a small mammal that inhabits high-altitude meadows in the Rockies, or a baby chipmunk or vole of some sort (the coloring looks much like a chipmunk but it's lacking the characteristic stripes).

A tiny inhabitant of the Highline Trail.

Pika or chipmunk?

I held still while the tiny-eared creature grazed on the vegetation around the trail briefly and then disappeared into the brush. I gazed at my watch--it was getting towards four o'clock. I had intended to reach Haystack Falls before turning back, but I needed to turn around now to get back in time to return my rental car before they closed at six.

Looking up.

Reluctantly I turned back. Other hikers returning from Haystack Falls passed me. I stopped now and then to take more photos.

Wildflowers on the Garden Wall.

Wild onion (Allium schoenoprasum)

This was the last photo I took before my camera froze up. The shutter would not focus or shoot, and when I tried to see the other photos I had taken, it would not change modes. Oh-no!  What was I going to do without a camera, and this early into my trip? I had two weeks ahead at Sperry Chalet--how was I going to get the photos I needed? How could I have been so stupid? 

Well, there was nothing I could do for now. Perhaps when the camera dried out it would go back to normal, or I could find a store in Columbia Falls where I could get it fixed quickly. But on a Saturday evening, the chances were slim. I passed a couple of Japanese tourists with very fancy camera rigs and was tempted to offer to buy one of their cameras, but they didn't understand enough English for me to even try.

I trudged on back towards my car. At least I'd gotten the hang of using the poles and my stride didn't feel so awkward as at the beginning of the hike. I drove back to the car rental place to call Kevin as prearranged. I explained the situation with my camera but he said he didn't know of any camera repair shop in town--there wasn't any store where I could make a quick purchase either. My only hope was to pray that the camera would dry overnight and work again.

That evening I tried to think of alternatives if the camera didn't go back to normal the next day. I called Herb and he thought perhaps he could buy me another camera the next day and ship it to Kevin overnight, and Kevin could send it up with the next mule train that would resupply the chalet in another few days. I fell asleep praying this wouldn't be necessary...

The Garden Wall I

Mt. Oberlin in clouds.

I woke to the sound of rain, got up to look outside, and yes, it was pouring out there! I lingered over breakfast hoping the weather would clear up later on. Kevin stopped by and I gave him my three duffel bags and portfolio for tomorrow's mule pack train.

While waiting for the weather to improve, I caught up with my Email on the hotel's computer. Getting on towards ten, the rain stopped and it seemed to be clearing. Today might be the perfect day to hike at the Garden Wall, with the plants fresh after the rain.

It would be chilly up there, so I put on every layer of clothing I had kept (everything else was in the duffels I'd given Kevin earlier), and unpacked my new hiking poles. This would be a good time to get the hang of using them, in preparation for the grueling hike to Sperry Chalet tomorrow. I bought a sandwich at a carry-out along the way and drove up towards Logan Pass.

Driving up to Logan Pass

The clouds played hide-and-seek with the mountains, and today the Weeping Wall was a veritable torrent. With fewer hikers and tourists out, there were plenty of parking places at the Visitors Center at Logan Pass. I ate half my sandwich in the car and then suited up for the trail. The Highline Trail, as it's called, begins at a meadow on the other side of the road by the parking lot at Logan Pass. It crosses a steep talus slope and then the trail continues above the Going to the Sun Road, which gradually drops down. All along this stretch the Highline trail is visible as a ledge running parallel several hundred feet above the road.

Looking down from the Highline Trail.

I steeled my nerves to look down from this precarious ledge to the road below, trying to reassure myself that my hiking poles would hold me steady. It was so narrow it would have been difficult to pass another person at this spot. 

The beginning of the Garden Wall

Once past this, the beginning of the Garden Wall was marked by rills periodically cascading down from the heights above and a profusion of plants unlike anything I'd ever seen. Plants grew anywhere the terrain gave them any kind of purchase.

Rocky Mountain Columbines (Aquilegia flavescens) under a ledge.

Black Twinberry (Lonicera involucrata)

I passed a lovely clump of Rocky Mountain Columbines (Aquilegia flavescens) growing under a moist ledge. Further on a golden twin flower covered by a purplish bract peeked out under a shrub, which I learned later was a native honeysuckle called Bearberrry or Black Twinberry (Lonicera involucrata).

Arctic Willow (Salix arctica)

Looking across the valley.

As I walked along I alternated between looking down at the plants and the spectacular views across the valley. The sun almost broke out once and then a veil moved across-- a steady rain started.

Rain moving in.

The Garden Wall

I pulled up the hood of my parka under my hat, and managed to keep fairly dry, but after a while my wool Tilley hat became completely soaked and droplets began to drip off the edge of the brim whenever I leaned over to look at or photograph the plants. I tried to keep my camera dry but it was almost impossible.

Mist on the Garden Wall.

In places the rocky ledge the trail ran on widened a bit and subalpine firs grew, giving some shelter from the wind. An incredible variety of species took advantage of the shelter--it truly seemed like a spring garden here.

Bracted Lousewort buds (Pedicularis bracteosa).

Twisted-Stalk (Streptopus amplexiflolius)

So many of the plants were completely new to me, though there were some I could guess at--these plants had eastern relatives that I was familiar with, or they were the native versions of cultivated garden plants--like Spirea, that I was well-acquainted with. Others, like the Bracted Lousewort, I had seen before on previous trips through the Rocky Mountains.

The leaves of the one above, Twisted-Stalk, looked very like Solomon's Seal, but the flowers were quite different. Some, like the False Solomon's Seal below, or the False Hellebore or Corn Lily (Veratum viride) seemed to be the same species that are also found in the east.

False Solomon's Seal (Maiamthemum racemosa) and blue Stickseed.

Going to The Sun Road

Going to the Sun Road pull-out above The Loop.

After my first day on the shuttle, I wanted to reserve a spot on one of the famous Red Bus Tours, but all seats were sold out for the day. The only seat available was for the following day, a half day tour in the afternoon, which would take me only as far as Logan Pass, territory I'd already covered.

It seemed the only way to see the eastern side of the Continental Divide and the Many Glacier area was to drive myself there. So here I was on my third morning at Glacier, armed with camera and a bag lunch, driving up the Going to the Sun Road.

This road really is an amazing engineering feat: to think that they began building it in 1911 at a time when even if they'd had heavy machinery, it would have been impossible to move it up the mountains to the site. The crews that surveyed the route climbed about 3000 feet a day to accomplish their task and had to hang off the mountains on ropes and ladders to take measurements. The crews that built it camped on site during the short season and supplies moved on horse or mule back--no doubt about it, these people were truly tough. It took until 1933 to complete the road linking the two sides of the park, at a cost of about 2 million dollars. A restoration project completed recently cost over 180 million! Even today, plowing this road in the spring is not a job for the faint of heart.

I made it past "The Loop"--whew! All along the road there are pull-offs every so often where one can stop to gaze at the amazing views without endangering life and limb. There was such an immensity to look at!  The road was very narrow in places, and the oncoming traffic tended to veer off towards the middle to avoid the rock wall, while those going uphill tried to stay away from the low retaining wall at the edge of the precipice. Thank heaven most people took it slow, observing the 25 MPH speed limit.

Haystack Falls and Butte.

The Weeping Wall was to the left here, and immediately after, Haystack Falls-- I remembered that from the previous day. By mid-morning all the parking areas near the trailheads were full, and hikers were out everywhere in this gorgeous weather.

Going to the Sun Road looking down the valley.

Going to the Sun Road from Logan Pass.

The Parking lot at Logan Pass with the Red Buses.

At Logan Pass the parking lot was completely full, I had no choice but to drive on, and was lucky to find parking at Siyeh Bend, just below the pass on the east side of the Continental Divide. Here the roadsides were full of wildflowers: pentstemons (beard tongue) of two different colors, bear grass, paintbrush, a white-flowered crownvetch, too many varieties for me to identify at a glance. I took photos of the plants that caught my eye, hoping to be able to identify them later, once I'd had time to consult my books.

Siyeh Bend

Lyall's Pentstemon (Pentstemon lyallii).

Alberta Pentstemon (Pentstemon albertii)

Indian Paintbrush (Castilleja rhexifolia)

White Sweetvetch (Hedysarum sulphurescens)

Bear Grass (Xerophyllum tenax)

Siyeh Bend was still in the alpine zone, and many of the plants here were the same as those on the western side of the continental divide, though not all. As the road continued to descend, Mt. Jackson and its glacier came into view. The vegetation began to look different here, with aspens and lower elevation deciduous trees on drier slopes.

Mt. Jackson and Jackson Glacier

Eventually, Lake Saint Mary came into view. There was evidence of the previous year's fire and the associated succession of colonizing plants growing along its shores, with fireweed predominant. It was getting on towards one o'clock, and one of the pull-offs seemed like a wonderful spot to stop and have lunch.

Along the shore of Lake Saint Mary

Lake Saint Mary with Saint Mary and Virginia Falls on the opposite shore.

The lake, looking east towards Rising Sun and St. Mary's Village.

I lingered over my sandwich while surrounded by nature's beauty, watching a tour boat plying over the lake. After I'd finished, I turned back to see a long line of cars stopped in the middle of the road, with people hanging out the windows clicking away with cameras and videos. I asked a gentleman near me what was going on. "They've spotted a bear over there on the other side of the road," he said. I looked but didn't see anything, then suddenly a golden-backed bear appeared over the crest of the hillock, not fifty feet away!

Golden-backed black bear by Lake St., Mary.

I thought the bear could smell my lunch bag--they can pick up the smell of food miles away--was that what had attracted him? I ran towards my car (forgot that running in the presence of bears was a no-no) to dispose of my lunch bag quickly and grab my camera--I didn't want to miss this photo op! I managed to get a few shots of the bear before he ran off. In less than two minutes a park ranger showed up to investigate and break up the traffic jam, reminding folks that stopping was not allowed except at the designated pull-offs. Everyone moved on and my heart rate dropped back to normal. The ranger asked if I'd seen the bear, and I said yes, I thought it was a juvenile, but didn't know if it was a grizzly or a black bear--I'd never seen black bears of this golden hue before. The ranger told me that black bears in Glacier came in all different colors, from blonde like this one to very dark.

Beyond the lake the valley broadened and grassland became dominant. The valley floor was profuse with prairie-type wildflowers: masses of lupines, blanket flower, fleabane, wild roses, phlox and bee balm grew among the grasses.

Fields of wildflowers in east Glacier.

The line of cars in front of me stopped in the middle of the road again. I pulled over and asked what was up--it was another bear sighting, this one was quite far away. I got my binoculars out and spotted a big black bear feeding in the bushes at the base of the line of mountains. Another park ranger came by and dispersed the cars with the same reminder. It seemed bears were more numerous on this side of the park.

Wild rose (Rosa acicularis)

Blanket Flower (Gaillardia aristata)

Lupines (Lupinus sericeus)

Fleabane (Erigeron speciousus)

Another few miles without incident and I was at the east entrance of the park. To get to the Many Glacier area one has to leave the park and drive north on State Route 89 for a few miles, then turn left and re-enter the park on a different road.

Entering Glacier

Lake MacDonald Morning, watercolor 5" x 8".

This summer I had the wonderful opportunity to fulfill a long-time dream to visit Glacier National Park in MT. I had applied to be artist-in-residence at Glacier this year for the second time, and had been turned down again. Being in my late sixties, one wonders if this could be the last year when one might still be able to trudge up and down those rugged mountain trails. I didn't want to take no for an answer. Could there be another way...?

I thought of going on my own, and started looking for accommodations in the park, but of course April was too late--every hotel in the park was already booked. I saw a link to Sperry Chalet, a historic back-country chalet built in 1913 and clicked on it. On the website was another link: Art at Sperry Chalet. I read through it and found that Sperry Chalet offered an artist in residence for two weeks in the summer. The deadline was rapidly approaching, so I hurried and managed to get in my application just before the May 1st deadline.

Two weeks later I had a message from Kevin, the manager of Sperry Chalet. I called him back during my lunch hour and he interviewed me. I had many questions: how would my gear get there, how did the chalet feed its guests if there was no electricity, were bears a problem, where was the nearest airport? Kevin answered my questions and asked a few in return, which I did my best to answer. At the end of the interview, he told me I could come! He suggested I should come a few days before the start of my two-week residency if possible, so I could see a bit more of the park.

I started looking into airfares and hotel accommodations--booking a flight into Kalispell was no problem, but all the hotels close to the park were already booked. I found one room available at the Glacier Travel Inn in Columbia Falls, some 15 miles from the west entrance to the park and booked that right away. Perhaps there would be some daily bus or shuttle service that could take me into the park.

Outfitting was next: I needed to replace the water bladder in my old day pack, and I bought some hiking poles (I'd never used these before, but considering the terrain, I thought this prudent). I had adequate clothing and art supplies but I needed new orthotics for my nearly-new hiking boots, and I needed to pack light  (it's the bad habit of an exile, I tend to pack too many things I don't need, as if I were never going to return).

The preparations consumed the weeks before my July 12 departure. Despite all this, when I landed in Kalipell that evening I felt so--not ready! Kevin met me at the airport and drove me to my hotel. He agreed to pick me up the next morning to take me into the park, and pick me up that evening, but since he had to work, I would on my own during the day.

Apgar Village near West Glacier.

Wednesday morning after Kevin dropped me off I toured the Visitor Center at the west entrance and then walked on through Apgar Village to the visible edge of Lake McDonald. The mountains around the lake were veiled in clouds, giving the place a moody atmosphere--perfect for a sketch. I found a bench and parked myself there for several hours to observe and work. As the light and shadow played over the mountains I painted, and chatted with a charming lady from St. Louis whose son and daughter were wind-sailing on the lake. She took a photo of me with my paints. 

Lake McDonald on a cloudy morning.

Painting at Lake MacDonald.

After lunch in Apgar Village I went into a quaint store--the Old Schoolhouse (formerly exactly that) and on a whim, I bought a Polartec vest that happened to match the color of my old favorite Polartec jacket that I had brought with me. I had a hunch this vest would come in handy, and as it turned out, my hunch was correct.

After that I boarded one of the shuttles and went to Lake McDonald Lodge towards the other end of the lake. The clouds had cleared and the day had become sunny and pleasant. Like Sperry Chalet, this hotel dates from 1913 and has a classic Swiss chalet-style of architecture. The interior conserved the western-lodge decor of the era, with hunting trophies mounted on the walls.

Lobby of the Lake McDonald Lodge.

After taking the lodge in, I walked out to the back and looking to fill the time, reserved a seat on the next boat tour. I chatted with the young man at the boat concession and after I told him I was going to be Sperry Chalet's artist-in-residence, Devan insisted on returning my ticket fee--he wanted me to take the tour for free, with his promise to point out Sperry Chalet from the water during the tour.

The boathouse at Lake McDonald.

The ranger leading the boat tour was a gentleman in his 70's and had worked at the park for many years. He pointed out a small cabin on the shore of Sprague Creek that was the artist in residence's quarters and a few other private homes behind the lodge that predated the creation of the national park. His description of the 2003 fire which he had witnessed was unforgettable--seeing the wall of fire jump over the mountain range to the west of the lake, the fire roaring louder than jet engines.

Sperry Chalet and Sperry Trail seen from Lake McDonald.

When we reached a spot about two miles from the boat dock, Devan handed me his binoculars and told me to look for Sperry Chalet on the second mountain range behind the first one. The Chalet was barely a dot in the distance, and I was going to hike up there next Sunday? From this perspective it seemed an improbable feat. So this is what I'd signed up for... oh boy, I'd better do a few practice hikes in the next couple of days to get ready for this!