Adventures in Glacier, Part V: My Dance with Death

From a better time, but symbolic none the less: Cliff diving into Lake Superior


During the next two hours, as the sun continued to set behind the dark mass that followed me on my trail, and my body began to freeze, I cursed the atrociousness of my decision.

By the time I was half way through the rockies that I initially thought I would not have to cross, my feet were soaked and frozen, my body shivered non-stop and my hands shook harder and harder with every passing mile. By that point, every hotel I passed should have been my last stop for the night. But I saw the Moe's house (my destination) as my salvation and my tunnel vision kept narrowing upon it, making it impossible to stop.

When I started getting small waves of warmth and seeing things along the road that were not there, I realized I needed to pull over because hypothermia was setting in.
I pulled into a 7-11 somewhere along the Crowsnest pass. I staggered inside and managed to get to the bathroom to run hot water over my hands. I was delirious with cold, my bloodshot eyes sought the coffee pot. As I stood by the glass enclosed trays of chicken laying under heat lamps I could not help but press my face against the warm glass.

Coffee in hand, body shivering, face against the bubble of warmth, I began to cry. The enormity of my mistake overcame me and I could not hold back the tears. Almost 10 years of riding and I was still capable of such stupidity! Not only should I have checked the route before leaving, I should have stopped at a hotel long ago. The tears, sadly, did not make me cross the road to the motel located across the 7-11. Instead, my tunnel vision tightened further and I began preparing for the road.
I found some small hand warmers that I put in my boots, along with a ski mask, and some gloves that were slightly less wet than the ones I had on. The two kids and woman running the 7-11 were very kind to me. They put my gloves and mask under the heat lamps and gave me a piece of chicken to chase the 5 Advil and 2 muscle relaxers I needed to take in order to continue down the wrong path.

A few minutes later I was back on the bike and for the first 20 seconds felt good and could feel the warmth of the facemask. But that feeling fled as quickly as it was painstakingly found. By now I was engulfed in darkness and could only see clearly about 10ft or so in front of me. It did not help that every passing car lit up the little droplets of water on my glasses rendering me blind for a few seconds - every half minute. If there were a few cars in succession, I could only pray that I would stay on the road. And pray I did! I invoked the Great Mothers mercy. I begged only that she not let any animals in my path. The cold I would somehow bear, but there would be no chance for me if a big horn sheep or moose were to wander in front of my steed.

I tried taking of my glasses so that I would not ride blind half the time, but the rain would hit me right in the eye-balls, and I was forced to replace the shades. And so I had no choice (or so I thought) but to ride on, half blind, freezing, shaking and thinking every shadow or dark patch on the road was a beast running in front of me.

I still had more than 100 miles to go - my speed kept shifting from 50mph to 80mph, depending on the amount of fear I had at the moment regarding the unknown darkness.
80 miles - I'm praying; every two minutes I prayed, again and again: I can handle the cold, just don't let an animal come in my way.
60 miles - I'm getting colder and colder and am starting to shake more violently; I become less and less sure of my ability to handle the cold.
40 miles - I see lights in the distance, a town, if I can only reach that town...
30 miles - The tears are coming back; why did I put myself through this?! I could have stopped, I could have checked the map, I could have been warm...
20 miles - I'm shaking and delirious and can see nothing but the Moe's house...
10 miles - I can die at any moment - either an animal, or a car I can't react to quick enough, or running into something because I'm blind half the time...
5 miles - So close, within Lethbridge city limits, so close, don't let me die now, it can still happen, it can happen within 20 feet of the house...
The garage... the door opening... inside... off the bike... staggering into the basement... must untie boots, unzip jacket, unbuckle belt, slide of shirt and underwear... Garret staring in amazement: "oh my god, oh dude, holy shit, oh my god, bro..."... must warm up - shower! WARM UP!... hot, wet, not cold, warmer and warmer and warmer... dry off, breathing stabilizing, shins and feet still cold... bed, covers, more covers, a bowl, darkness...

Adventures in Glacier, Part IV: The Big Mistake

On yet more road where my steed does not belong. She is quite patient with me!


After a sleepless night spent in fear for your life, one is not in a position to make wise decisions about anything.
I knew the weather was going to be bad for a couple of days, and though I did not yet do everything I wanted in Glacier, I decided I needed to take off and sleep in a bed - alone, sans 1000lb beasts.
I called my guardian angles in Lethbridge, Alberta and got the go ahead to spend another night in the warmth of their company.
I knew I had a wet ride ahead so I decided to take a nap with Sarah under the single patch of blue sky in Glacier. An hour later the patch had closed; the clouds seemed to be moving in from the east, the interior of the park. At the time I thought nothing of this fallacy. So I packed up my bike and, against the suggestion of my GPS and the campground host, turned west to leave the park.
That one turn, that one moment when I could have double checked the time and distance of the road I was going to take...
I did not want to go east because that meant crossing the rockies over a road potentially clogged with slow driving tourists, and over Logan pass on the continental divide (elevation 6646 ft.) which would potentially mean snow. And for some reason, which I cannot to this day explain, I thought that if I first went west, then north, I would not have to cross the rockies when I went back east to Lethbridge!!! I thought there was some magical flat area in the middle of the range between Glacier Park and Height of the Rockies Park in Alberta!! This thought, along with my decision to first go west, was based on a vague recollection of a map I had seen some days earlier which I thought showed the road going just slightly west before turning north and then back east.
All of these assumptions would have been extinguished had I taken a moment, just a single moment, and checked a map or my GPS. That one moment would have saved my traversing the razor thin ridge between life and death which was my night time, freezing and soaked, crossing of the Rockies.
As it turned out, the route I had chosen would take 270 miles over the course of 6 hours, instead of the 130 miles over 4 hours it would have taken otherwise.
So I made my turn west (remember that my destination is north-east), and decided to ignore my GPS's please for me to make a u-turn as soon as possible. But I was sure, with no actual confirmation, that my way was quicker and free of snow. Within 20 minutes I was driving through a wall of rain, at just a few degrees shy of turning to hail. For a while I had to keep my left hand over my face to keep the "rain drops" from busting out my teeth.
When the rain let up for a few minutes I was able to fully see (not grasp) the magnitude of my mistake. the western sky was a solid charcoal wall past which no mountain or forrest was visible. The rest of the sky put on a full display of the beauty of clouds in all their shapes and styles, but I could not contemplate them for the imminent storm about to engulf me and the rockies. To my great dismay the eastern sky, over the road I should have taken, showed no evidence of snow or even a downpour the likes of which I just crossed.
I continued west and north and began to feel the cold that would be my companion for the rest of the ride.
About an hour into the ride I got tired of the GPS telling me to turn around, so I pulled into a gas station for a brief respite from the rain and to re-plot my course - something that if it had been done earlier...
My heart sank as I saw my ETA pushed back 2 whole hours upon my inputting my intended route. At this point it would still be faster to turn around, but I felt committed to my mistake and used the possibility of snow over the pass and the fact I just passed a massive downpour to justify my continuing on the wrong path. This was the first compounding of my initial mistake.

To be continued...

On the Book:
will resume after the next post... lots of good stuff happening though - finally!

Adventures in Glacier, Part III: Of Moose and Bear

----------------------- Friends ----------------------------------


...As we continued along the sunny path to our second camp, around a peaceful bend on the trail I heard the galloping of what sounded like horses. I yelled to Sarah to get out of the way of what looked like two horses. Within a split second she was running towards me and I realized they were not horses but two very large grizzlies, now within 30 ft of me.
What I discovered about myself at that moment is that when faced with danger, I stay pretty cool, and, am kind of stupid.
I stood there with my bear spray in my left hand as my right was clicking shots off the camera hanging from my neck.
After three shots, the second of the two beasts gave me a doubtful look, at which moment I ceased shooting. I looked him straight in the eye, something you are not supposed to do (nor are you to run away from them because they will think you are prey), I wanted to show him that all was well and that I meant no harm. After briefly considering us an aperitif, the two grizzlies disappeared into the bush, and the realization of how lucky we were reverberated throughout our entire being. Never the less, for the next hour I walked with bear spray in one hand and my army knife in the other. From that moment, every sound of grass rustling in the wind gave us a start.


As we walked through thick patches of berry, my mind kept wandering to only a few hours before when Sarah and I found ourselves, once again, in only what nature gave us, sitting on a gently sloping rock that lead into an upper, tucked away, terrace of a waterfall. The peaceful moments when my hands were on her shoulders, then her hair... I felt free and blissful, and as the sun re-emerged from behind the cloud, our lips met and I felt her warmth and softness against my chest. Oh the ease with which a mind can soar when bodies thus enveloped surrender the artificial chains thrown about them, and suffer freedom to enter once again...


The heart was slowly resuming it's normal rhythm as we began approaching our new site. Along our traverse we saw a moose emerge from a small lake nearby; at that moment it seemed a perfect scene - our witnessing the natural order and routine of Glacier and its residents.
We reached the site shortly thereafter and found the three girls who camped near us the night before, along with two guys from Chicago, gathered in the cooking area. We were very hungry and the day was quickly drawing to a close, so after quickly breaking camp we joined the rest of our neighbors. Minutes after our food was ready we noticed the very same moose we saw earlier, grazing within 60ft of us. This could have been the beginning and the end of that encounter, however, the gentlemen from Chicago thought it a good idea to approach the moose for some portraits, you know, keepsakes and all that. The rest of the night went rather quickly into the abyss of fear and uncertainty.


At first the cow (female moose) started huffing and pricked up her ears, but the guys did not heed this obvious sign of hostility; by the time they did, she was in full territorial mode - mounting posts and rubbing her scent on the bushes and trees. Then, as we sat nervously watching her and eating our supper, she charged us. If you can imagine for a moment what 1000lbs of territorial tank like mass rushing at you, against which knife, spray and stick stand no chance, then you will understand fear.
We ran so fast - but we knew there was almost no where to go. We took "refuge" on some logs lying by the shore of the lake, it served little purpose other than to give our minds the illusion that at least we were safer there. We wanted to see if she was still there, so the other two guys and myself snuck up to a nearby tree - she saw us and charged again! This time we retreated for good.
She continued sniffing around, taking her time, all the while it was getting dark and cold in that rapid manner particular to the mountains. We stood around shaking for some time, but soon realized that we must ascertain her intent before it got too late. The three of us again ventured out to see where she was. We only had one good headlamp between us, so we crept slowly, barely breathing, knife and bear spray in hand - knowing full well that they are useless. I looked like a bad combination of Rambo and Elmer Fudd.
By the time we got access to two of three campsites, night was well upon us. By then our nerves were well worn, but staying up was not an option, it was getting very cold and we needed to get to our tents - though they offered no degree of safety, or, as it turned out, sleep. We finally found the moose bedded down for the night - right on the path to and directly opposite the three girl's tents. We decided that we could not risk them sleeping alone in such proximity to the cow, so we formed a four person raiding party to recover their bags and mats. We could not take the path, so we skirted the lake edge and crawled up to the tents with barely a breath between us.
Now we had the problem of figuring out who would fit where. My tent is meant for two people, and I already had Sarah, one of the guys had a one person tent - both of our tents are for mountaineering, so when it says one or two person, it means there is no room between shoulder and wall. The other guy had a two-person, so he was able to take one of the girls with ease. Sarah and I squeezed Elizabeth into our tent and managed to stuff the two of us into my single sleeping bag, so we had 2 bags, 2 pads and 3 people in my little shelter.

Between the grizzlies, freeze dried food, soreness from hiking, fear of being trampled, and stiffness in every joint and muscle from lack of motion in the tent, we passed the night with moments of shallow drifting and startling at every noise. Around midnight the wind started to howl and we emerged in the morning (alive) to find the mountains covered in a heavy fog with the imminent threat of "weather".
Thankfully the moose was gone and we were able to pack up and hike out within a few hours. On our way out we saw her, and a few others, again at the smaller lake. Needless to say we did not stop to admire and take photos this time around.


to be continued...


On the Book:
There was not much writing done that day or the one that followed, so I will continue with the updates after the next post. Though, I am glad to say I have had a breakthrough...

Adventures in Glacier, Part II: The Calm Before the Storm

------------------------------ Lake Moraine ------------------------

Glaciers, draining their purity into hundreds of streams and falls, hug the mountainsides. The peaks along massive ridges stand tall, but are reminiscent of fortress ruins rather than granite towers. One side of the valley stretching ever further toward the sky, the other crumbling away having served its term of glorifying our humble terra firma.
Alpine meadows with Beargrass, Indian Paintbrushes, Fireweeds, Asters and Lilly's dancing in in the breeze, glowing in the un-hazed sun.
Huckleberry bushes as far as the eye can see, more than one could ever eat - though how we tried!
Rose Hips, Blackberries, Salmon berries, currants, blueberries and thimbleberries - an amazing site, but I could not help but feel as though I too were on the menu when walking through endless acres of bear snacks. Having seen black bears in Jasper eating berries, I would not want to be so gently treated by one.
Giant boulders, once part of towering facades, clearing chutes along the skirts and bases as they rolled like Juggernauts down the slopes killing hundreds of trees, now lie peacefully with the offspring of the dead firs growing atop them, as if in defiance of their destruction.
At every turn of the path there lay a new wonder - another monument to patience and time; a delicate expression of color and perseverance; a sweeping view that makes it all but impossible to consider littering, strip-mining, or deforesting our precious home. But most do not come to see it, do not go beyond the safety and comfort of their drywalled nests; and so we waste and waste, and now our ears wont hear the song of 100 songbirds known to our forefathers. I wondered how those within a few days drive could live out their lives never having seen the very best of what this world possesses.

The day after we broke camp at Cobalt lake brought more than any person should go through in a 24 hour period.
We began the day with a hike up to two medicine pass where three valleys opened themselves before our eyes. Mountains goats flanked the west side, a wolverine kept guard over the east while hawks and eagles patrolled the endless sky, and glaciers and lakes for endless miles in every direction.
Before heading out to camp 2, after we returned from the pass, we decided to take a dip in the glacial lake, on whose shores stood our tents. Naked and free we ran into its chilling waters; within a few seconds we felt its icy grip at our throats and bones and so quickly re-emerged, gasping for breath. There are many levels of cold:
cool, nippy, chilly, cold, chilling, very cold, icy, fucking cold!, freezing... sweet and holy, 6 pound 4 ounce baby jesus it's cold... Glacial. In the last, the water steals your breath and your testicles re-ascend so far you feel like a fetus again.
But that half minute in the lake shot more life into us than a syringe of epinephrine to the heart. And so enveloped in Joie de Vivre we went along the valley to our second camp at upper two medicine lake. We stopped often on the way to gorge on huckleberries, and prayed the bears would not gorge on us.
Within a couple of hours we discovered that our prayers were answered.

To be continued...


On the Book:
I am writing constantly but am still having trouble penning the stories for my book. The act of wander can be so overwhelming, and the journey itself so full of adventure and experience that it's actually hard to focus on the past (where the majority of the book will lie). The present is so forceful, it demands all of my attention and my reflections are inevitably linked to it.
Though I have not had the good fortune, I feel as though by some form of choice, to have met many Russian Jews along the way, the few that I have again confirmed our shared history and current diversity, even for those who live in Canada.
It will be hard to bring the books focus to the last generation when the stories of our roots are so important to who we are and are in themselves worth a hundred volumes. There are however countless books that have dealt with their struggles and their story is much better known than ours, so if I can keep that in mind I think the stories will flow more quickly to Us.

Adventures in Glacier and Doubt

Three Sisters and Moon


On The Book:

Inspiration can be a fleeting thing: overcome one minute, left empty and gasping for words the next.
At this moment, when all human voice have gone and I am left with the birds, whales, seals, the drone of Cessna's, the rumble of boats and the whirl of competing currents - I am truly inspired, yet left with no words.
The pervading calm absorbs me and my mind wanders to the people and events of my book. Still, I only dream of them as I fall in and out of consciousness.
So often other words crowd my mind - poetic verses, arguments and expositions - and there is little left for the task I set forth.
Sometimes it's fear that holds me back: how dare I even attempt to write when the works of truly great authors are left untouched on dusty shelves?
How can I ask someone to give their time to my words when they have not yet absorbed the Angst of Dostoevsky, the lessons of Dickens, the challenge and absurdity of Roth, the poetry of Pushkin, the bite of Diaz, the sad whisper of Lahiri, the tearful laughter of McCourt, the history of Tolstoy, the forward simplicity of Hemingway, the fever of Hughes, the humanity of Shakespeare...?


On The Road:

I have decided not to post chronologically, the things that happen along the way. Some events and ideas develop over time: I may have had an encounter in Maine, but only realize its importance when I experience something else in Alberta, and am only then ready to write about it.

I have now ridden more than 4000 miles across Canada and the U.S, with at least 4000 more to go. I am more than 2 weeks behind schedule, which means by the end of this leg of the trip, I will have been on the road for 2 months, not 1. I wonder what that means if I planned on being done within 2 years…?

Over the next 4 posts I will relate a series of events which occurred in and around Glacier National Park...


GLACIER 1: GOOD BEGINNINGS

I arrived in Glacier some weeks ahead of schedule and with 2 new friends. It was nice to travel with some fellow bikers, if only for a couple of days. The following morning they left, and I met Sarah. She was also alone in the park and looking for someone with whom to hike. Within 10 minutes of meeting we were on the back of my bike cruising down the windy road to get backcountry camping permits. A couple of hours later we were on our way to Snyder Lake for a warm-up day hike, Sarah’s sweet southern drawl accompanying us along the way. The more she and I talked the more similarities we found; though from backgrounds as disparate as our gender, she growing up in the Appalachian mountains of Virginia, we found an uncommon amount of parallels in our thoughts and ways. As per my usual, the second I saw the lake (as I do with any body of water, particularly is its cold as hell), I was soon thereafter naked and splashing in its icy waters. Sarah only dipped her calves and promised to go in next time.
Besides my own good lord’s blessing, Sarah and I shared an incredible amount about ourselves, but it seemed as natural as we had known each other for years and not just a few hours.
The following day we found ourselves in the backcountry of southeastern Glacier, around Cobalt Lake.

To be continued…

Quick Notes

Fellow bravers of the mountainous wrath


On The Book:
Though I will inevitably make it into my book, I do not want it to be about me. As I make my periodic forays into normal society I am reminded again and again that I belong on the fringe. I don't recall a time when I truly fit in anywhere, or when I was unconditionally accepted by others. This cannot be what the story is about; our experience is so diverse - is why I think short stories may be better than a novel. Most acculturated better than me, yet, I wonder for how many it's a facade, like so often it is for me.

On the Road:
More than any other form of transportation, when on a motorcycle you are tested by the Great Mother. Every degree drop is felt by whatever skin is exposed to the wind. When it is cold and wet enough there is no garment that can keep the damp and ice from penetrating your marrow. One moment the sun is burning you, the next you shiver as beads of sweat are replaced by goosebumps.
This undulation is endless.
The constant awareness that anything other than clean, shiny blacktop can send you flying at 85mph, causes adrenaline to become a constant presense in your blood, so that by the end of a ride your body and mind are worn: like you just finished a mental game of chess while running a marathon.