Winter Camping in Montana

Winter camping and cross country skiing in Glacier National Park.

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Winter-like Camping

It was mostly naivety that got the three of us to where we were to begin with. That and my Ford pickup. A thousand or so miles of driving had taken us from Texas and up into Montana’s Glacier National Park, where we planned to live out our dreams of winter camping and cross country skiing. Since it was January, we had the place pretty much to ourselves, except for the two Park Rangers manning the Polebridge Ranger Station (where we entered the park)  and the plethora of wildlife still out and about, such as elk and Gray Wolves.

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The Solo Storm

A stormy evening in the mountains…….


Lightning was striking everywhere and each time it did, there was a bright flash immediately followed by the almost deafening crash of thunder. When it’d first started, I figured it was time to do something, although I didn’t. But once the bolts started lighting up individual trees, I sprang into action.

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Treble Hook in the Eye

A treble hook catches an eyelid in the backcountry.

Controlled Fishing Chaos

Thankfully, we only got a few miles up the Middle Fork trail, before setting up the first night’s camp. As it turned out, the whole treble hook situation would’ve been way more complicated had we gone further that first day.

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The Mine in Potosi’

Exploring the Cerro Rico mine.

A Bridge to Somewhere

For whatever reason, we ended up in Potosi’, Bolivia on that particular part of our vacation and were looking for interesting things to do and ended up selecting the “mine tour” option. The city is “quite a ways” south of La Paz, sits at around 13,400 feet (making it one of the highest cities in the world) and is completely dominated by the mountain, Cerro Potosi’, which has been mined regularly for silver since back in the days of the Spaniards.

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The Fly

Hooking a fishing fly with a spinner

Fly fishing the Tarryall.
Fly Fishing Tarryall Creek in Colorado.

The kid walked up while I was down in the creek fiddling around with a big rock, to tell me that he’d lost his last fly. I was the guide and supposedly the person who’d take care of that sort of thing and thus, knew that I needed to act quickly. The most obvious solution would’ve been for me to just give him one. Normally that’d be a simple and straight forward thing to do– but since, in this particular case, I didn’t have any, it wasn’t even an option.

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A herd of elk in the Colorado high country

The Colorado Rockies

There must’ve been close to 100 elk filling the valley below me, and I was astounded. I didn’t want to do anything to call attention to myself, so just sat there quietly peering over the boulder from afar. It was some sort of luck or fate that put me in that right place and at the right time, because I certainly hadn’t been thinking about it as I I’d climbed toward the top of yet another ridge.

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Candy Bars on Mt. Hunter

Indigestion on Alaska’s Mt Hunter.

Climbers out on the Kahiltna Glacier near Mt. Hunter
The Kahiltna Glacier near Mt. Hunter

I now concede the fact that it was undoubtedly the five candy bars I ate in celebration of successfully getting across the avalanche debris field that caused the distress. I should’ve known better, but for a variety of reasons, it’d seemed like a good thing to do at the time. At least, I reasoned once back at home, the whole thing had taught me a good lesson.

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