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 Day 12 Bowman Lake Campground, Glacier NP
Thanks to
the dearth of campers here, or perhaps the abundance of
wolves and fox, our sleep is not interrupted by mice, and we awaken
rested and refreshed. A heavy gray pall has fallen over the place
overnight, so the drive out from Bowman Lake is even more eerie than
yesterday, the burned-over landscape alien and foreboding. We trace
Bowman Creek down to where it empties into the Flathead River, then
follow that back to West Glacier, where the Highline and its namesake
railroad are separated by only a line of telephone poles. For the first
time, we swing east now on Route 2, and trace the middle fork of the
Flathead up toward the Divide.
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Aside
from the Going-to-the-Sun Road, this is perhaps one of the most
beautiful mountain drives of our voyage, the sun finally making its
appearance and casting its warm morning light on spectacular views of
the river coursing down through green and rocky valleys, the highway
playing tag with the rail route of the old Great Northern.
We arrive at Summit, 5,213 feet above sea
level, the lowest crossing of the Continental Divide north of Colorado,
then cruise down to the Glacier Park Lodge. For many early visitors to
Glacier, this was their
first introduction to the park, and was the culmination of a two-day,
non-stop rail journey from Chicago or Minneapolis on the famous "Empire
Builder". These luxury trains were the epitome of comfort, amenities,
and speed for their day.
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Upon arriving at the depot adjacent to the lodge, guests were treated
to a final night's sleep in a real bed
before continuing into the park's interior via foot, horseback, or the
famous red "Jammer" busses. We stay only long enough for lunch in the
lodge before resuming our drive to Browning, where we turn south to
Great Falls.
When Lewis and Clark arrived here in 1805,
their epic upstream journey was dealt a severe setback. First, Lewis
found an eighty-foot precipice over which the mighty Missouri cascaded.
Five miles above that was
another fall, of about nineteen feet, then an even greater one, fifty
feet high, then two more.
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In all,
the Missouri dropped three hundred and sixty feet over the series of
falls and rapids, within a stretch of less than twelve miles. To
further complicate matters, the adjacent countryside was rough and
twisted, with ravines and gullies carved and
eroded by sporadic creeks into a place difficult to hike, never mind
carry all the boats and gear.
Clark wrote: "The men has to haul with all
their Strength wate & art, maney times every man all catching the
grass & knobes & Stones with their hands to give them more
force in drawing on the Canoes & Loads …", and Lewis added:
"… at every halt
these poor fellows tumble down and are so much fortiegued that many of
them are asleep in an instant … some are limping from the
soreness of their feet, others faint and unable to stand for a few
minutes, with
heat and fatiegue, yet no one complains, all go with cheerfullness."
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