On The Road Again - 7

My Summer Road Trip, part 7

No, wait! There's more! What can one do after destroying Bozeman and flirting with Yellowstone? Go north, young man! 

(Tip o' the Day: You can click on the pics to enlarge them.)

So I went. After a study of carefully unfolded paper maps lain across my hotel bed, I determined my next move in the great game. I got on I-90 once more, that accursed strip of asphalt, so orange-barreled and too much single-laned, and finessed a drive to the headwaters of the Missouri River. 

Now, the truth is that there are three rivers coming down from the mountains but it is not the Missouri River until the three rivers converge. Only then can we call it the Missouri River as it snakes north to the city of Great Falls and then east across Montana and into North Dakota and down into South Dakota, past Pierre (where I saw it) and by the "Dignity " statue at Chamberlain (where I crossed it), and down to Kansas City on the Missouri side where I once lived and often crossed and on this trip had crossed it, and on to St. Louis where some say it joins the Mississippi River but others (I'm talking scientists) say the Missouri River's current is stronger and so they believe it continues down to New Orleans as a single flowing river, old amateur geographers be damned.

I went to Three Forks, the place where the Gallatin, Madison, and Jefferson rivers meet and give us permission to call it the Missouri River - but in Montana. I came, I looked, I snapped pics. Then I drove on.

About the most scenic area I traversed on this long road trip was approaching Butte, Montana from the east, then exiting Butte going north, and later arriving at Butte from the west because of the mountainous terrain the highway winds through. Dramatic rock formations abound - more dramatic if you take your eyes off the steep up and down grades and curving pavement to take a look at the rock formations! I looked, but there was no way I could hold up a camera or my phone to snap a pic, as much as I wanted to. So you have to trust me.

From Butte, I headed north to Great Falls. Back in 2019 when I drove down from Canada, I stayed in Great Falls. Then I drove east across the vast grasslands to Billings and on home. That drive was part of the reason I wanted to return. Oh, I expected the falls to still be there, but I had missed all of the mountain scenery. And we definitely want mountain scenery. And as I tried to replicate that 2019, I stayed in the same hotel and ate at the same restaurant for dinner. I did not, however, go further into town or stop to see the falls again (picture is from 2019).

Then I headed north, truly north, into the far wilderness, a road so isolated that I thanked my lucky stars I'd visited the Jiffy Lube earlier. Eschewing the interstate highway for a serviceable state highway, I gradually veered to the west until I could make out the mountain range that formed Glacier National Park. Until then, it was all grassland but with a dark overcast that lent drama to the drive. My plan was to traverse the park, as the highway went, again winding through mountain valleys. And, if I could, to turn deeper into the park for the more dramatic views I sought, ever the dramatic viewer wannabe.

As it turned out, the famous road through the towering peaks had just opened the previous day. I showed my Senior Lifetime Member card and was whisked blithely through the gate with a smile and a tip of the ranger hat. The "Going-to-the-Sun" Road is a splendid two-lane mountain highway, around 50 miles long, the only road that crosses through Glacier National Park. At the height of 6,646 feet, it crosses the Continental Divide via Logan Pass, which is officially the highest point on the road. It is not the kind of road you speed along; the turns are wild. Again, I did not have the luxury of driving while snapping pics. I could stop a few places, but once on the road you had to keep going, having plenty of other vehicles behind you. 

So I drove, patiently and carefully, so I would live to read another colorful paper map. Eventually our line of vehicles came to the famous lake everyone takes pictures of, and I followed suit, because who am I to go so far and at such great effort to merely look and not preserve for later the image gathered in my eyes and interpreted by my brain to be a mountain lake - or, to be more accurate, a lake among the mountains, with an isle in its center, a place forbidden to non-swimmers such as I who also possess neither boat nor kayak. Sometimes the gods, they mock you!

When the day began, I expected to stop the next night somewhere on the west side of Glacier National Park. I had checked places in Whitefish, Kalispell, and even Polson at the south end of the large Flathead Lake. But I arrived on the west side of the park quite early. I should have taken more time to hike into the shade of the forest, call out some bears, and maybe step into a quick rushing stream for some fishing. That would have used up most of the day - and possibly ended my trip rather quickly. I did, savvy blog readers will be happy to read, stop for gas and a Taco John's lunch in Kalispell. Then I drove on, pausing at a dockside restaurant to not eat but photograph the lake. 

On my judiciously folded paper map, I noted the National Bison Range on my southward route, but when I got close I missed the sign and the turn-off and, thankfully, also missed the bisons. And continued on.... 

For the previous few days I had debated how far I would go on this trip. I wasn't limited by anything more than my own fatigue and interest. I thought I might continue on to the Pacific coast and lollygag on the beach somewhere. I saw I could reach Coeur d'Alene, Idaho easily for the night, then Spokane, and a long day crossing Washington. But my lack of stopping in Kalispell for the night threw off my schedule such that when I got to the bison range (actually, I missed it), I was tired and decided to just give it up and start back home. 

So I mounted that I-90 strip of paved civilization and turned not west, not north, but southeast and eventually arrived in Missoula for the night.

NEXT: The Road Home

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