A new Glacier memory

Had a rather new adventure 10 days ago on first 2013 visit to Glacier National Park. Left at daylight and drove 300 miles on a solo trip which covered most of the east side, from Marias Pass to Canada border. Having a new adventure is never unexpected in such a vast majestic mountain paradise, and it added something unique to my life among those peaks.

It has been 77 years this summer since being personally blessed with my first trip to Glacier Park. Going-to-the-Sun Highway was not paved. My father was especially pleased by so much water running along the route because our family’s 1929 Chevy sedan kept boiling over in the long climb to Logan Pass. Probably stopped five or six times to cool off the radiator and refill it with our “emergency bucket.”

Something unexplainable took place within my heart and soul during that wonderful family outing in 1936. It has deeply affected my life from that day on and will do so until I go to the big alpine meadow in the sky. The “call of the mountains” never ceases and I no longer wonder why. After hiking thousands of miles and climbing a million or so vertical feet, both on and off those 700 miles of trails, I just accept the workings of fate with heartfelt thanks.

Now, back to this new adventure. On the way home on Highway 2, there were a couple of cars at the Goat Lick above Essex. Part of my goal was to learn more about photographing wildlife with a new digital camera, so I pulled off the pavement and walked along the railing above Running Rabbit Creek.

A billy goat was energetically burying himself in the dirt on the hillside, so keeping my eyes on him, I maneuvered for the best position to shoot from. Stood in one spot for about 15 minutes before deciding to leave. Oh, oh, there was a problem. Couldn’t move my feet. I’d unknowingly been standing on a large sticky gob of tar that had oozed up through a crack in the warm pavement. Situation was not helped by a nearby woman pointing at me and yelling to her husband, “That man is stuck to the ground.”

It took hard pulling but eventually got one foot loose and placed off the goop, although the position caused me to stand straddled out. Using my hands to pull on the railing enabled the other foot to be freed. Found a spot off the pavement to scrape soles on gravel and dirt to get tar off.

Back home, I left shoes in the garage where Iris found them and I explained what happened. She wanted to know what I intended to do. Said, “Buy a new pair.” Following Monday I came home from work to find Iris with needle-nosed pliers pulling tar and gravel from between the deep treads. She said the shoes were perfectly good, and she would buy some fingernail polish remover to dissolve and remove the remaining tar and gunk.

Right now I’m on second bottle of fingernail polish remover, and with some luck may have shoes available for wear by middle of June. Am also shopping around for new floor mats and considering complaint letters to U.S. Department of Interior and Montana Highway Department.

Am just kidding about those letters. I still love Glacier Park ... anyway.

G. George Ostrom is a national award-winning Hungry Horse News columnist. He lives in Kalispell.