Three Forks Montana(Leaving)
Montana seemed to have a high number of motorcycle riders (bikers). Harley Davidson advertisements and businesses were very prevalent. In the restroom in the morning one of the bikers entered after me. He reminded me of a fictional character I used to know a long time ago that used to work out all the time, but if anyone had to identify him a hold up they would describe him as overweight, stocky, or short and fat. This biker looked like that. Kind of like the bikers in Clint Eastwoods "Every which way but loose." The kind of guy that could probably bench press 500 pounds but would have a heart attack if he had to run down the block or touch his toes.
Its funny that bikers like that seem to get offended if you don't ask them about their bike, but if someone that really knows bikes start to talk over their head, they get real defensive. The fictional character I used to know was like this about his work. He was not qualified for the position he was given and everyone knew it. He got the job by sucking up to a fictional company-ladder-climber that no one else wanted to work for. The two had a simple methodology to their work. The ladder-climber would take the end-user customer out for dinner, drinks and strip-clubs to get them to fight for whatever it was he wanted to sell them. Kind of like a used car salesman that does not ask you what you need your car for, but how much you have to spend.
Next he would wine and dine and golf any one in the chain of command that had input into getting the deal signed. Anyone that opposed him at his level was subject to ridicule and abuse from the higher ups. At the lower-level the two-teamed up to degrade and humiliate anyone in their way. They came to every meeting with a snarl on their face ready to jump down anyone's throat that was not touting their line, whether the meeting pertained to their line or not. When anyone stood up to them they would throw a temper tantrum reminiscent of a two year old until everyone got tired of hearing them kick and scream and just let them have their way. But I digress, in summary certain people seem to try to put up a tough front as well as being overly proud of every little thing they do, but when challenged they reveal they are just as insecure as I am. The sad thing is I always think the people in charge would know better and take the higher ground.
The drive to Butte was pleasant and without incident. There were a lot of calm peaceful green valleys that looked nice in the morning sun. I stopped for supples on a Sunday morning and really got some good vibes from this town as a place to live. The first real good vibes I had from any town on the trip. I passed the "Suds and Fun, Landry and Casino" on my way out of Butte at about 8:30am.
About 10 minutes later on the way to Missoula, however, I noticed that a much better route to take would have been to go north at Butte through Helena and Great Falls. that way I would be on the eastern side of the park and could drive west without making a loop. I did not want to turnaround, but luckily there was a two-lane highway about 10 miles away that went right to Helena. The scenery on the highway was beautiful. Green grass and pine forests and those meadows that get covered with snow in the winter. I was really taken with this area. I passed through Helena quickly, but wished I would have investigated it a litttle more.
The road to Great Falls ran right along the Missouri River. It was surprisingly wide and swift at this point. I almost stopped to check out the camping, but the exit said there was no return to the freeway. I passed through some rocky canyons and had a great view of the river. I really wanted to stop, but I had passed the only public camping and did not want to turn around. Finally there was a sign for private camping. I got off the freeway to find a rundown mobile home parfk with a sign that said register in the bar. I did drive around a while then got back on the freeway.
In Great Falls I stopped for Gas and the gas station and the diner across the street both had help wanted signs. Maybe another day. After Great Falls, the wind returned with a vengence. I could see great dark clouds surrounding what turned out to be the Rocky Mountains and my final destination. I drove through what would make a great Sears Point style NASCAR road track with the wind beating incessantly against my bike. It was a very windy road through open rolling hills of green grass. I got gas and a cheesburger at an Exxon on the reservation. It was run by native americans and the pumps, store and restaraunt were full of native americans and their pickup trucks the whole time I was there. It was really crowded.
Finally I made it to Saint Mary's and the entrance to thne Glacier national Park. I was within 35 miles of the Canadian border according to one sign. I paid the $10 entry fee and headed to the campground. I knew where Iwanted to stay, Rising Sun campground because it had hiking trails. I found a very secluded spot with views of the huge mountains that surround the park. It was right next to Saint Mary's lake also.
I arrived around 3pm, set up camp, listened to the bear speech from the ranger, then went for a ride on my bike. It was still windy, but more than that it was cold. I was still wearing shorts and a t-shirt while everyone else was shivering in heavy coats. I decided it was too windy and the roads too narrow for me to ride, so I drive about 3 miles down the road to a short trail that lead to some falls.
There were all kinds of bear warnings like "make a lot of noise when you hike" and "don't hike alone." For this trail, I had no problem with the last instruction. The parking lot was full and I had to wait for some guy who was trying too videotape the whole trail before I could go. After a while I got out there on my own. Saint Mary's is a pretty short, but violent falls. Virginia Falls at the end of the 1.2 mile trail, was much taller and through a lot of mist around. I got some great pictures.
I tried to get as close as I could to Virginia Falls by climbing up some logs and rocks drenched with water from the falls. On the way down I stepped on a slippery log and fell head first to the ground. I was able to get my hands out in front of my chest before I hit the ground, so luckily I did not hit my head on anything. I really wish I would have taken a picture of where I fell, because I still don't know how I did not hit my head. The logs an rocks were piled up like pikup sticks and nowhere was there room for my heaqd to fall without hitting something.
The bad news was I still had my camera, water bottle and journal in my hands. My water bottle teetered on the edge of the raging river, my journal, hands were buried up to my wrists in gritty mud. When found my journal it was buyried up to 20 pages in mud. The real damage was to my camera. It was flat on its back (the side with the display screen and all the controls) and buried a half inch in the mud.
I washed my hands in the river, then wiped the bottle and journal clean on the grass. I examine the camera to find the battery and disk in tact and the on/off switch and computer connection in good order. The joystick and function slection controls were completely immersed in the kind of gritty mud that I knew would play havoc on any mechanical parts. I got back to camp and spent an hour cleaning what I could with WD-40 and a toot brush. I bentg the cover trying to get it off and the function control would not stay on after I took it off. The main problem was the function control. It has 4 positions it can rotate to, but trying to turn it was like trying to turn a skateboard wheel with a frozen bearing. It just grated on my ears everytime I tried to do it. I finally figured out that by pusing in and turning it turned freely. Still my camera, although usable, was a beat up mess.
I had a campfire that night for the first time since I camped in Idaho before going to yellowstone. It was cold, but I could have done without it. I just wanted the atmosphere. This was by far the quietest campsite I had been at. I spent the night reading PKD by the fire, then retired. When I got in the tent something came over me to make me feel very comfortable and satisfied, as if I really felt at home. I had an inkling I might stay on another day.