Thursday, August 04, 2005
Time is FLYING
I have come and gone from an entire state since my last entry. Sorry ya'll.
We travelled from Jackson Hole, Wyoming to our next work region, Whitefish, Montana. Whitefish is the gateway to Glacier and Waterton National Parks.
The beginning of the story is our drive in. Because we rode the ski resort in Jackson, we had to finish work the next morning before leaving. Well, it had rained on that trip, so we worked harder and slower than expected. We left Jackson with another false start and had to go back for Karen's bike box. Then, our route choice was to go through Yellowstone rather than boring old Idaho. Tack on a few more hours.
We did see some giant bull elk (which we stalked to within 20yards of, damn they are fat and lazy), a small black bear, multiple waterfalls, and Ole Faithful. We tacked on another half hour or so just waiting for her. A couple picture hikes, and next thing we know it is 830 pm when we hit I15 on the other side of the park.
I15 the east west route that will take us to Missoula, Montana. Here the math gets ugly. There will be 350 miles between us and Whitefish. It's is already 830.
Time for some Smokey and the Bandit. Except instead of Sally Field we have Karen, instead of Burt we have myself (with some seriously wild curly hair), and an unmarked white stalker van instead of the TransAm. Damn beast only gets 90 mph on a downhill...
Red Bull, Sobe, and Tom's Cascade Jalapeno Potato chips fuel the mission. No gas stops, one pee break, with some calistenics for alertness. Around twelve thirty we leave the interstate and get on a state highway. That's when the mild hallucinations begin. It's mainly from the contacts being dry and eyestrain. So I find a local speeder to follow as my running back, I keep on his tail until about 2. Delusions set in. No nodding, that is hand off time for Karen to drive. Just really wierd sights.
So we pull into Whitefish at 230, and we have both visited before, so we go straight to the leader house. Well, right off, it's a little strange. Where are the white 15 person vans, normally VERY visible? Unh, who care's, lets see who is there. We try the door, and it's open. In we go. Lots of shoes in the entryway, a big cooler sitting by the door, very typical. But I see that they place is decorated. Not well, and I don't agree with the flavor, but someone tried. Which is NOT very Backroads leader house. Usually it is part flophouse, hostel, apartment, and office all mixed together.
So I investigate further. The fridge is covered with pictures, but of the same two people, over and over. Odd. The final straw is cut when Karen sees the cat. Backroads has no domestic beasts. That is it, we are outta there!
Well now what? It's about 3am, we are absolutely bushwhacked, and we don't know where to go. Try some hotels: no vacancies anywhere in town. In a last ditch effort, I suggest we go up the hill towards the Big Mountain Ski Resort. I know that area, they might have a room, if not, we camp out in the woods. Karen is not a fan of the idea. We really do HAVE to sleep, we have to work the next day to stay on schedule. Up the very windy road, we get to the "Kandahar Resort" and lo and behold, a Backroads van in the lot! We try the front desk bolstered with new confidence. Oh you are with Backroads, well let me see what we have....
Denied!
But, there is a leader staying with us tonight at the Kandahar, would you like to call them? Three forty am, to call or not to call? Hell yeeah. Jen Nelson has been toasting with her guests the end of a fabulous trip...she is very slow to answer the phone...but when she does, she has the goods on where on earth our friggin leader house is!
It turns out we had been within two blocks of it when we tried one of the local B&Bs. Back down the windy road...
Bed at 4am. Ouch. The following morning I feel like I have been beaten. Uhhh.
And so it continues...
We travelled from Jackson Hole, Wyoming to our next work region, Whitefish, Montana. Whitefish is the gateway to Glacier and Waterton National Parks.
The beginning of the story is our drive in. Because we rode the ski resort in Jackson, we had to finish work the next morning before leaving. Well, it had rained on that trip, so we worked harder and slower than expected. We left Jackson with another false start and had to go back for Karen's bike box. Then, our route choice was to go through Yellowstone rather than boring old Idaho. Tack on a few more hours.
We did see some giant bull elk (which we stalked to within 20yards of, damn they are fat and lazy), a small black bear, multiple waterfalls, and Ole Faithful. We tacked on another half hour or so just waiting for her. A couple picture hikes, and next thing we know it is 830 pm when we hit I15 on the other side of the park.
I15 the east west route that will take us to Missoula, Montana. Here the math gets ugly. There will be 350 miles between us and Whitefish. It's is already 830.
Time for some Smokey and the Bandit. Except instead of Sally Field we have Karen, instead of Burt we have myself (with some seriously wild curly hair), and an unmarked white stalker van instead of the TransAm. Damn beast only gets 90 mph on a downhill...
Red Bull, Sobe, and Tom's Cascade Jalapeno Potato chips fuel the mission. No gas stops, one pee break, with some calistenics for alertness. Around twelve thirty we leave the interstate and get on a state highway. That's when the mild hallucinations begin. It's mainly from the contacts being dry and eyestrain. So I find a local speeder to follow as my running back, I keep on his tail until about 2. Delusions set in. No nodding, that is hand off time for Karen to drive. Just really wierd sights.
So we pull into Whitefish at 230, and we have both visited before, so we go straight to the leader house. Well, right off, it's a little strange. Where are the white 15 person vans, normally VERY visible? Unh, who care's, lets see who is there. We try the door, and it's open. In we go. Lots of shoes in the entryway, a big cooler sitting by the door, very typical. But I see that they place is decorated. Not well, and I don't agree with the flavor, but someone tried. Which is NOT very Backroads leader house. Usually it is part flophouse, hostel, apartment, and office all mixed together.
So I investigate further. The fridge is covered with pictures, but of the same two people, over and over. Odd. The final straw is cut when Karen sees the cat. Backroads has no domestic beasts. That is it, we are outta there!
Well now what? It's about 3am, we are absolutely bushwhacked, and we don't know where to go. Try some hotels: no vacancies anywhere in town. In a last ditch effort, I suggest we go up the hill towards the Big Mountain Ski Resort. I know that area, they might have a room, if not, we camp out in the woods. Karen is not a fan of the idea. We really do HAVE to sleep, we have to work the next day to stay on schedule. Up the very windy road, we get to the "Kandahar Resort" and lo and behold, a Backroads van in the lot! We try the front desk bolstered with new confidence. Oh you are with Backroads, well let me see what we have....
Denied!
But, there is a leader staying with us tonight at the Kandahar, would you like to call them? Three forty am, to call or not to call? Hell yeeah. Jen Nelson has been toasting with her guests the end of a fabulous trip...she is very slow to answer the phone...but when she does, she has the goods on where on earth our friggin leader house is!
It turns out we had been within two blocks of it when we tried one of the local B&Bs. Back down the windy road...
Bed at 4am. Ouch. The following morning I feel like I have been beaten. Uhhh.
And so it continues...
# posted by bunkerbuster @ 6:45 PM 
