Sleeping Jellyfish

On Wednesday morning, the 13th, we got up, I finished packing and AJ made some amazing food: couple little breakfast sandwiches and then a wrap for me for lunch. We said our good byes and Nicole’s mom took me to South Minneapolis to meet Heather, my ride out to Seattle. I got there early, we were supposed to meet at 8am but Mrs. Tyrell wanted to leave earlier in fear of traffic which is probably better than being late, but I don’t think I have been a half hour early for anything, ever.

I organized this ride on Craig’slist. That’s right, they have a rideshare page, you should check it out. I had talked to Heather a few times on the phone and between emails and the phone I had a sort of idea of what she was like in my head. Well, upon first meetings that was shattered, and now its even hard to describe what those first assumptions were, because after traveling for the last week we became pretty darn tight. An absolutely amazing lady with a great heart, she also adorns some great tattoos, we share a lot of musical taste and common ideas about living intentionally in community with others. Though most of this I would find out only after traveling half of the country. We packed the car, made a cooler, and waited for Mike to show up, passenger #3. But he didnt. So Heather called him and he had not gotten the last two weeks worth of email updates and phone calls. Heather told him that we had some car stuff to take care of and that he should take the next half hour to decide.

We went to get her tires checked out. She recently bought the car and had the tires replaced, but there was still a balancing issue. It ended up being uneven wear and so they gave her two new used tires for free, as she had just gotten four used tires a week ago on the cheap from them. After getting the car sorted out we went back to S. Minn to pick up Mike who actually lived only about a mile or so from Heather.

Oh Mike. Mike is inspiring. A college professor who has actually been taking classes as of late, he has a lifetime of stories and experiences that he bestowed on us, and though there were a few that were repeated, I know we didnt hear them all. Some would say he’s crazy, or eccentric, but after a week on the road, he’s just Mike. He loved people, loved to travel, and loved to travel and meet people. A novice darts player as we found out at the West Glacier Bar, he holds the crown on storytelling as we found out in the long car trips.

Next up was Ellie, passenger #4, rounding out our car load in Heather’s Honda Civic. Ellie is a very sweet girl, a recently declared environmental studies major at Morris, she was on her way to Missoula, Montana for a year exchange program. We picked Ellie up at the most amazing house near St. Cloud, took a picture of our four person team and hit the road. Ellie at first seemed quiet, and read a lot of the time, and that might seem reasonable as 1) quiet people do exist and 2) me, Heather, and Mike were all pretty loud. She also had a packet for class to read on the way out there, so she spent much of Wednesday working on that. But as all good road trips do, we all became pretty close, pretty quick, and it was sad to see her go.

We drove through the night, from Minneapolis to Missoula, arriving at about 9am like we had planned. We found Ellie’s apartment, looked for a cheap bike, but after a spell of dry luck we decided to go out for breakfast.  I always think going out to eat is expensive, but then there are places like the pancake place we went that remind me how much food you can get for your buck.  Omelettes the size of your head. Mmm. So good. After seeing Ellie off to her new apartment and new roommate (who is a football cheerleader and just got a new job at Hooters, poor Ellie) we promised her we would work diligently to find her a good granola boyfriend that she can go hiking and camping with. Don’t worry Ellie, we’re working on it.

We piled back in the car, on friend less, and headed west again, back on the open road. We had been taking I-90 up to this point but now we head North to the land of ice and snow (not quite) at Glacier National Park. We passed around the beautiful Flathead Lake and stopped in a town to do some antiquing, where Heather got a sweet photo and frame, and went on through the Flathead Indian Reservation and up to West Glacier. We camped clandestinely just outside of the park, and if anyone ever wants to go camping there I can show you where it is. We were right on the river and pinned between the roaring rapids and the earth-shaking howl of the trains. The air was crisp, the sun hot, and the river frigid. No mosquitoes to speak of, but I came away with a handful of spider bites. Mountains on all sides, the moon lit up the northern face of the mountain at night, and the stars were out showing off their new bling bling. We set up camp and slept easy in the cushy sand. Thus ends Thursday.

Friday morning greeted us with sunshine and the Train of Death. It is 5 times louder than any other train and comes at about 5am. We all crawled out of our bags and went to work on breakfast. Mike will talk of nothing else but coffee until he has had some in the morning. He is perfectly bearable without it if he would only stop talking about it. Regardless we went to the dinner and had a few cups each and then planned out our days. Mike was going to bike around and check into some rafting jobs, Heather was going hike a bit and then jump of the bridge into the river (all the cool kids were doing it), and I planned to hike around as well and meet up later for the bridge jumping.

That didn’t exactly happen. I started hiking and climbing along the rocks by the river bed, and when I finally got parallel with our camp but on the other side it was 3 o’clock already. I figured I would find the trail and it wouldn’t be much further till the end or a connection. I was wrong. I didn’t find the trail for a while, so I followed a few game trails that went up and up, where I thought the real trail was. when I finally found the trail it was two hours before I found any markers. The first being a bridge across branch of the river, followed by a cabin, followed by a trail marker. I had gone 5 miles, half of it off the trail. I was out of food and down to my last four ounces of water. I was desperate.

So I followed the creek bed back down to the main river, making sure to sing in case of bears. When I got down to the river I tried to make a small floatilla of drift wood but it would not stay together. My plan was to raft down the river. I thought it would be fast than hiking all the way back. I also thought about fording the river and hitch-hiking or train-hopping as both the highway and the train were back on the other side of the river. I then found a large log that was already cracked. So I rolled it down to the water’s edge and it broke in the process. It put them side by side and mounted my two-logged steed and started my drift down the river.

At the first rapid everything fell apart. One of the logs got stuck on a rock and I couldnt get it to move which was throwing my sideways and the other was not buoyant enough carry me alone. So I bailed. With a hop, skip, and a splash I jumped the log to a rock to the bank. Soaked from head to toe, this is a testament to Chrome messenger bags as nothing in my bag got wet. I wore it as high as I could on my back and though it was never submersed, it did not let any of my stuff get wet. Amazing.

So I sucked it up after my river rafting adventure came to a quick halt. I ran along the river’s edge, rock to rock, and climbed a few steep faces, before it turned into a sheer cliff face. At this point I headed up to the trail and started the long trek home. The sun was going down behind the mountain, and I was completely out of water. After a steady run of cotton mouth I picked the fastest moving run off and took a big drink. I remembered that Giardia comes fecal matter, and because this was a national park and not a farm, the concentrations of poop in the river should be small. Should. I believe fast moving rivers have less time to develop bacteria and such because, well, they dont sit around. So as long as a grizzly or a wayward child didn’t poop up my stream upriver, I should be alright. Later I read that Giardia takes 7-10 days for symptoms to develop, so even if I would have gotten it right then and there, I wouldn’t know until, uh, today I guess.

I made it back, got a message from Heather that she had gone bridge jumping, and felt bad. 1) I didnt get to jump of a bridge into ice-cold glacial melt water, and 2) I flaked on a friend. It happens more often then I would like when I’m at home, but when I only know 2 people in the middle of a national park, I should be able to keep on top of my schedule better. So, we had some dinner, and went into town. The first night Mike had gone up to the bar to check out the local flavor. He had a good time so we said we would go with him tonight. Hey, its Friday. We met Brett, a boat tour guide and had a good time playing some darts over a couple of beers. Heather headed back, and Mike and I followed shortly after. Good sleep was had by all.

Next time will be Glacier to Seattle. Maybe Vancouver, too. Cheers!