A trip worth the wait

Last weekend was dusty, sunny, hot and my first overnight trip into the wilderness since summer started. It’s a little depressing that it took so long to happen, however the trip was worth a little waiting to have.

It was an hour and a half of driving on dirt roads to get there, some washboarded out so badly that the old Landcruiser felt like a rattling tin can on a bullride and my hands felt like they do after I mow the lawn.

But that was only on the first 10 miles of the North Fork Road. You know the part if you’ve ever driven down that road, it’s hard to forget the feeling of constant vibration, the up and down bounce that doesn’t end — ever.

Well it ended this time around, strangely enough, after we passed the right turn to the first Glacier Park entrance. At first I thought it was pavement, then I was informed that it was this chemical that keeps dust levels to a minimum, hardly any dust at all, and helps pack the road down, which also prevents the washboard effect we all love so much.

It was heaven-sent, seriously, it was wonderful. The chemical disappeared about one mile past the Polebridge turn-off, but that portion of the North Fork is less traveled, so no more washboard. Awesome.

Not that anyone is interested in what I think of the roads, but it can be a big part of a trip into the woods — especially if you get a flat tire, which has definitely happened to me on that North Fork Road — or if the washboard effect causes an accident because the brakes don’t work as well as they should, which has also definitely happened to me, although it wasn’t on the North Fork Road.

At any rate, about 10 miles past Polebridge, we headed toward Nikko Cabin on Whale Creek Road and at the fork took the road toward Hornet Lookout. I’ll admit, as we started to head up to the lookout I was skeptical.

The lookout is in an area that burned during the 2003 Wedge Fire. While burned areas are part of Montana’s wild charm, when I think about where I want to spend the night, I want trees that are alive and breathing, not charred and dead. But it was gorgeous all the same.

Pink fireweed intermixed with black and grey tree trunks and beargrass. On the hike up from the parking spot, we spotted miniature huckleberry bushes. They were tiny, hardly noticeable unless you were staring at the ground.

The hike was dusty and pretty much straight up, switchbacking for a mile all the way up to the top. The lookout isn’t visible from the car and in fact it wasn’t visible at any point on the hike up. It hid like a ghost until I started wondering if there was in fact a lookout to be seen. Then I started wishing I had brought my tent. But it was there, faithful and hiding behind a section of living and green lodgepole pine.

Breathtaking is a cheesy word to use to describe alpine vistas but indeed appropriate because I was out of breath and all I saw was peaks and valleys stretched out in all directions.

The lookout was built in 1922 and is stocked with all the supplies you would need. Cots, a cook stove, propane, plates, matches, sanitizer, anything and everything you would think of. Unfortunately, it was also everything we thought of to pack in. There was even sleeping bags and a pillow. Not that you would want to use them, but they were there just in case.

The seats around the fire ring looked northwest toward Canada. We watched the sun go down and the Milky Way come out as we cooked up some terriyaki chicken with bell peppers and Rice Sides. We went inside to enjoy our late but luxurious dinner on top of the world.

It was fantastic.

I stepped out to use the restroom before bed and my heart lept a little as two eyes stared back into my headlamp. I backed up toward the door before I realized it was just a deer. Things that go bump in the night always send my imagination into overdrive and unfortunately our little friend kept thumping around outside for what felt like a long time.

But for that night, everything in my “real life” was not even an inkling in my imagination. All I thought about was where I was and who I was with. For that reason alone, a weekend in the woods is worth a little waiting for.