O, and what glacial bliss preceded this days howling glories.
We woke in Cut Bank, MT with an urgency that sent us running to the stalls. However, we were met in a great battle that toyed the great water gods that live in the washrooms to boast their humbled powers. This being, we had a mad back up from clogged cyclists that lead to flooding toliets and puddly kitchens. Apparently this was no new ordeal to the folks at the church, whose pipes go steady with the local plumber.
This being, we were cut loose to gallop to the nearest gas station so we could relieve ourselves from the evenings pilings.
A swift 60 or so miles was on our docket until we reached the true mammoth amongst the plains, Glacier National Park. Masha and I slingshotted through the headwinds, stopping only to chalk a heart around a dead coyote, or to make water in the grasslands. Oh my folks, was the rise of the shadow fed mountains grand. The range of blues that coated the great rise sang our names from afar. The golds surrounding us were zinging with grasshoppers. The Moon greeted us, in the morning as it continued to feast in the sky, almost full bellied with August glee — for the meteorite showers were coming, and their comet friends would soon be visiting with their shimmering tails.
Mash and I grappled the winds with an energy that comes with wanting the mountains. Meaning we went sluggishly slow then rabbit fast, all depending on how recently we took a sip of coffee — or as Montanies like to call it, *diesel.
And how the mountains grew and grew with every mile. We sang and spat, laughed and rallied. O, how I do love Mash, and her little mole humor that tickles to the bottom of her brown eyes. There was small rolling hills before the climb, which opened our knee eyes wide, and gaped our mouths with panting and yelling. Joy, joy, joy. There was construction just up yonder so the van shuttled us over the tippity top and dropped us off at this vantage that descended for 5 miles.
“BLISSSSSSSSSSS” the wind seared into our ears as our minds’s responded to the rollercoaster of billions to millions of years holding our body’s real. Down we go! We flew that day, 5 miles of going upwards of 40 miles per hour, looking over the guard rail to see glacial lakes and these heartthrober rocks that poked through cloud nine, snowy peaks laced in love from the forever waters. We were speechless of articulate words — we were left only with gushing sounds that mimicked the rushing of steep slopes and fluid water.
We pulled over at the bottom in St.Mary, MT (0.5 from the entrance of the park) to eat our happiness whole, as we saw our dearest friends come from similar heights. And there was at the base was a pie shop!
Local pie eaters, Jad and Martian, says, “It’s the best pie in St.Mary.” I took their word for it, and we ordered up a slice of *grizzleberry to satisfy the picnic table people, all wonderstruck on the days drippings.
Then we saddled up and poked our way to the campsite and hustled to Many Glacier. And what a dream that was! Masha, Claire, Lizard, Jake, and I all wandered about the lake trail — where we found thimbleberries that were velvet on our tongues and a silty shore to dabble in the sedimentary clasts of rounded cobbles whose hues were teal to brick red.
And the water! It replenished our trodden thirst of days come and gone with futures to behold. To be playing in glacial waters that began thousands of years ago, bubbling it with our nose airs and splashing with our fingered flippers. How easy happiness can be.
Jake, Mash and I cracked book in the streaming sunlight. Reading out loud always has my fancy, especially in a scene that beckons Olympus (we’re reading Circe).
We loaded into the van and returned to our camping quarters. The Gobblers shook the table that night and created a feast on the fire. Big thanks goes to Stevie’s parents who made sure we ate GOOD that night!
Cheers! To brushing teeth under the stars and the finite nature of glaciers! Think before you drive and fly, folks! For, carbon dioxide’s acting like pesticide on the ice. CHOOSE BIKE!
Big love and all the waters,
pearl
Dictionary
Diesel: The shadowy smog that deteriorates from the back end of my hams after a cup of Folgers instant.
Grizzleberry: a true bear delight kind of pie with a combination of both blackberries and huckleberries to jazz the tastebuds. Pair it with a bowl of ice cream and moose drool away.
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