America is known to be a country of vast biome uniqueness. From the tropical beaches of Hawaii to cold, glacial, grizzly-ridden hills of Alaska; we seem to have it all. In fact, when I hear the song America the Beautiful (it most certainly is) I feel that Mr. W. Smith only displaying spacious skies and amber waves of grain as a bit of a let-down to what we have. He could have mentioned the fact we have super volcanoes, lakes the size of oceans or islands with more colorful birds than a skittle bag in the middle of Pride Month. At any rate, if you love nature, America is and will always be my first place of advice to head to. Of course, it would be rather rude for me to advise American soil as adventure if I had not thoroughly explored it myself, it would be quite the dilemma. So, I aimed to remedy that harrowing problem.
First, some context:
For years I have lived in the sunny state of Washington, in fact I’ve been there all my life and I could tell you with pure confidence the amount of natural beauties in that state alone I could not complete if I lived for 100 years. Still, why stay in Washington when you can see the word-famous geysers of Yellowstone or the Red-Sand arches of Zion? Why stay in the alpines when I can see the hellish landscapes of South Dakota or the craters of California?
So, thats what I did.
Or- that’s what we did.
That’s right ladies and gentleman I didn’t embark on this adventure alone. Like Lewis and Clark my brother and I saddled up into our slightly used 2004 Honda Pilot and left on September 1st for Glacier Montana with more bags of oatmeal then I care to admit. And so begins the start of my series:
America’s Best; Glacier
Off we went through the throngs of Trump-balloted towns in beautiful Montana, past deep rivers and over evergreen hills. While listening to the apt musical flicks of country and 80s Road Trip, we arrived at our campsite just under the Blackenship Bridge; a name I would expect to see in a fantasy novel and one I’m claiming ownership over so that if it doesn’t exist in a chapter book; it soon will. Among fellow campers, some in vans, some in cars, some in tents and some on the rocky ground, we listened to the quiet gurgle of the river as it swam lazily between mountain tops and into the famed Glacier park. Sunset was met with our prepared Rotisserie Chicken and waffles; a combo that is known but ought to be world-renowned (it’s quite delicious and all the more filling; a perfect budget food found in any Walmart, Safeway, or FredMeyer). With our bellies full of poultry and protein packed Kodiak waffles, we quickly struck up our roof tent and slept the Montana night away with dreams of chickens who sang country perhaps by our fill of both or perhaps because there is legitimate song called: Chicken in Black by Johnny Cash. I wrote that whole gimmick just to let you know; it’s surprisingly good.
Waking up to the smells of sweaty boy (my brother not me) and fish from the river, we quickly ate our fill of Chocolate Oatmeal from a packet, put away our tent, set out our camping chairs to claim our camping spot which was, in my opinion, in a true real estate spot, and started up our car.
By driving through the windy and lesser-travelled gravel backroads of Kalispell, Montana, where we stayed, we found ourselves behind a convoy (another banger of a song: Convoy by C.W. McCall) of cars heading ever so slowly down the Going-to-Sun-Road.
To our horror-stricken dismay, we soon realized that going down this particular road would require a reservation. One we did not have, one we did not know how to have. Hastily, I grabbed the radio knob in our car, tuning to the Glacier National Park Radio Station and do my even greater dismay realized that a reservation seemed to be something you ought to order well-in-advance. Not the day of. Hopelessness washed over us. Would our first day on the grand trek result in a sad mooch of an afternoon by Blackenship Bridge™. Thankfully, the best of situations occurred. You may consider us lucky, but I believe in a true fate of God, that we had arrived on the very day after Labour Day. A day no man in their right mind would visit Glacier on, they would not want to anger their boss by taking a four-day work leave and then laugh away the fact they had taken a fifth- no sir not indeed. So, as quick as my fingers could type in my credit card number, I payed the 2.00 for the reservation ticket and, once again, we were merrily on our way.
Glacier National Park was nothing less than immensely beautiful. The mountains, the rivers, the trees and the falls. Animals frolicked this way and that. The sun shone as bright and merry and the day was truly a beautiful day, words could not describe it fitly. It’s at times such as this that if the clouds were to suddenly erupt in hymns of Amazing Grace I fear I might fall to my knees and cry joyous cries. God has given us such an incredible world where, at days like this even amidst the trails of our country; peace can be found and comfort a sanctuary in the stunning nature he has blessed us with.
And so, as a final farewell in this, the first chapter of my blog, I would tell you the following: count it all joy and in a world of such slander and sin; seek comfort in the places of the world that have stayed the same in their uniqueness, to the parts of nature where, though man may eventually reach its sinful fingers into; it is, for now, a haven. Seek it dutifully. Protect it all the more.
Psalm 65:9-13 –
“You care for the land and water it; you enrich it abundantly. The streams of God are filled with water to provide the people with grain, for so you have ordained it. You drench its furrows and level its ridges; you soften it with showers and bless its crops. You crown the year with your bounty, and your carts overflow with abundance. The grasslands of the wilderness overflow; the hills are clothed with gladness. The meadows are covered with flocks and the valleys are mantled with grain; they shout for joy and sing.”
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