Big Sky Country
It took me nearly 30 years, but I finally made it back to Montana. I must admit, Flathead Lake is a lot nicer than what I remember of Dillon and Butte.
To maximize time, I booked an 8:30 a.m. flight out of Reno – which meant the alarm in Mammoth went off at 3:15 – ouch! It was smooth sailing on Southwest, through Boise and despite the fact that I didn’t recognize my own luggage on the baggage carousel; I was in the rental kar (a Kia) by noon.
I headed east toward Missoula, with the idea of stopping in Coeur d’Alene for lunch. I didn’t realize how the real estate boom had affected this area and was saddened by how busy and built up it has become. I did a quick tour through the old downtown and quickly got back on the interstate.
The roadway quickly began winding through the mountains and ski runs were carved into the adjacent hills. I pulled off in Kellogg to do a little snoop around and thought it was a place with a lot of potential. At present, slightly economically depressed, but with a small central business district and a ski area with the ubiquitous time share condos at the base of the lift. I stretched and strolled and then got back on the road, headed for the cutoff at St. Regis.
At this point, the scenery turned spectacular. I traveled on a two lane highway following the lower Flathead River with majestic peaks rising on all sides. This is the Montana I had envisioned – not the mining towns I’d seen as a youth. There were two kinds of music on the radio, heavy metal and Christian, so I had to sing the “rain song” of my childhood trip to these environs for entertainment.
Before I knew it, I was pulling into Polson and soon spotted the Safeway at the intersection of the two highways. I could even use my Club Card to stock up for the weekend. I’m liking this place already! I grabbed wine, French bread, garlic hummus, water and juice to stock the bungalow and for a snack, since I never did get around to lunch.
It took me a while to find the Islander Inn at Wood’s Bay (www.sleepeatdrink.com). Not sure why, since it was right on the highway and bright blue. Anyway, Trip Advisor did it again. This place was charming. It’s a small complex across the road from Flathead Lake with 8 rooms, each with an island theme: i.e. Anguilla, Crete, Maui. I had called the week before and they had just gotten a cancellation for Zanzibar, the African themed cottage with a kitchenette and Jacuzzi tub. Book ‘em Dano.
I dropped off the bags, opened a bottle of Pinot Grigio and sat on the lovely lawn overlooking the lake doing a quick manicure prior to TC’s arrival. As my polish dried, I migrated to the hammock, and that’s where I was swinging happily as his Audi pulled up.
We walked next door to the Flathead Lake Brewery where a band was playing outside on this gorgeous, sunny late afternoon. We settled inside at the bar and shared a beer “flight” which went straight to my head after having only had an ice cream sandwich since my fast food breakfast at the Reno airport at 7:00 a.m. Microbreweries in Montana are required by law to close at 8:00 p.m. (???), but I was giggly and happy as we strolled across the street to The Raven where we snagged a lakeside table on the deck. After another Flathead Hefeweisen, a salad and some yummy fried calamari, I was a little more composed – although shocked that my vegetarian friend had sampled my squid and ate the Chicken Pad Thai which he accidentally ordered. I must be a bad influence.
After lingering long into the light summer evening and watching sunset on the lake, we ambled back across the street and hung out in Zanzibar for awhile until TC made his exit to meet up with his sister’s family at the lake house. I filled the Jacuzzi, added some bubbles and relaxed in my African island bungalow.
We didn’t get the earliest start the next day, but were on the road to Glacier National Park by about 10:00 a.m. Since I hadn’t had time for breakfast, we pulled into Huckleberry House (or something like that) so I could grab a bagel and cream cheese. Oops – I was inadvertently handed a container of white icing, which I innocently slathered on. I started the day with a sugar rush.
It was a perfectly glorious morning as we headed up the “Going-To-The-Sun-Highway,” a road I’d always hoped to travel. As a mountain denizen, I’m not that easily impressed by peaks, but this drive was stunning. Those with a fear of heights: beware – there are sheer drops. I had no problem, as there were shoulders the whole way – unlike, say Monitor Pass or the road to Kennedy Meadows.
The Visitor’s Center parking lot was full, so we continued on to the Piegan Pass/Siyeh Creek trailhead (http://www.nps.gov/archive/glac/maps/trails_lp.htm) just beyond the summit of Logan Pass. TC strapped on his anti-bear air horn to scare off the grizzlies and off we went up the wildflower strewn trail. There was a bit of lingering smoke in the air after a week of wildfires, and I missed the cornflower blue of the Sierra sky, but truly appreciated and was amazed by the fact that there were no biting insects! We trekked for three hours with little time to rest and enjoy the vistas. I knew that hiking with a long distance runner would be a stretch for this “step, step, step, gawk” girl – but I stubbornly kept my slow deliberate pace, lagging far behind. Fortunately, no bears ate me. I didn’t see much wildlife or many birds, but a beautiful doe crossed the trail and grazed for several minutes less than 15 feet away, so I that I might enjoy it’s beauty.
We jumped back into car for the reverse trip down “Going-to-the-Sun,” mindful of the fact that we had lingered a little too long and might not make our dinner reservation (which in a supposedly rare act of advance planning TC had made two weeks in advance.) Sure enough, we were driving by Big Fork right at 6:00 which was when we were scheduled to dine. After a pleading phone call to the restaurant, the fastest showers in the history of vacationing hikers and a quick trip back into town, we settled into our table at Showthyme at exactly 6:30 p.m.
Famished would be a good word to describe someone who had only eaten half of a sugary bagel during a day of outdoor exploration. I think I inhaled the first basket of bread along with a glass of white wine before the appetizer appeared. The tower of eggplant caponata was stylish, if not quite as good as mine. Next up, shrimp in basil, tomato cream sauce with applewood smoked bacon which was tasty, although not memorable (overcooked prawns). I threw caution to the wind and ordered another glass of Pinot Gris which I would regret a little later, but what the heck – it was Saturday night and I was on vacation!
No time for dessert, as the show was about to begin at the Big Fork Community Playhouse next door. One of the major purposes of this trip was to see their production of “Pirates of Penzance,” as TC had played Frederick, the studly young pirate with a conscience, a decade earlier in his home town. I, too, was familiar with the show, as it was part of Summer Repertory Theater’s summer season in Mammoth 7 years ago. This was the group that mounted the production of “Grease” that I was in.
This little town had funded a very substantial performing arts facility, and it made me wonder why all the wealth in Mammoth couldn’t put up at least a makeshift theater. Ah well, the show was enjoyable, although I questioned the actresses wearing glasses and the directorial choices which took all the meat out of the story (not that there is a lot to begin with.) But if you’d like to put on a cutesy show, Gilbert and Sullivan are probably the appropriate authors/composers to choose.
If you’ll remember the comment I made about my wine intake earlier: I met TC’s parents for the first time at intermission (they had bought separate tickets). His mother graciously asked my opinion of the production. I started blathering about the dynamics of the show being off due to Ruth’s lack of sexuality and a how a lustier Ruth would heighten Frederick’s dilemma. I’m sure I made a fabulous first impression.
After the show, we went in search of a quiet little spot for a nightcap and conversation. Most of the Bigfork taverns had a band playing (which is where I would have been if traveling solo!) but instead we headed over to Marina Cay resort (www.marinacay.com) where TC plied me with Bourbon & Sevens while we huddled in a dark corner booth enjoying the lounge singer/pianist.
It turns out our server, Mario, was from Italy. I began teaching TC pidgin Italian so he could order: “Una birre Signiore, per favore – Grazie.” Then, this guy who looked like a skinny 70’s trucker with ripped cap sleeves on his t-shirt sat down next to the pianist and struck up a conversation. He pulled out an electric violin and started playing jazzy riffs to accompany her. They were quite brilliant together and we stayed, listening, for hours it seemed, finally closing out the lounge at 2:00 a.m. Ciao Mario!
Daylight came a bit too soon the next morning, but vacation fun never stops, so I reluctantly packed up and bid farewell to my slice of African paradise. We had set up a brunch date with TC’s family, so we got back on the highway heading south to the
Kwa TaqNuk Resort, lakeside in Polson.
It was another picture perfect day, and while I would have preferred the outdoor deck, we had a lovely leisurely brunch inside with a view of the lake. Mother, Father, and brother made me feel very welcome, which was good, as we were headed off to their lakeside home on the peninsula that leads to Finley Point. This would be my accommodation for night three and Trip Advisor could not have recommended a more idyllic setting..
The mid-century ranch house on the lake had the comfortable feel of a family vacation home, not the least bit pretentious. With a small cherry orchard at the rear, a sweeping lawn in front down to the shore, a dock and large outdoor deck attached to the house, it was the perfect place to hang out and chill after the previous two days of active travel. Also, since I was a tad sleep deprived, lazing on the dock in the warm sunshine was just what the doctor ordered.
After TC’s Mom departed to make the drive back home, his father took us out on the lake for a little sightseeing tour with four of the five family dogs. Fortunately, the vintage motorboat was large and comfy and all eight of us found seats (though the terrier, Basil, settled in my lap). We cruised along the shoreline, gawking at the trophy homes owned by celebrities and sports stars (like Howie Long). Then we floated by a few of the many small islands that dot the lake. What I wouldn’t have given to have my trusty binocs with me, as there were birds everywhere!
It was late afternoon when we returned to the “compound” and after a little more lazing around (what is a lake house for if you can’t just sit and talk and stare at the water?) we freshened up and headed to the local Italian Restaurant: Ricciardi’s Italian Seafood House. No red naughahyde booths (damn) but they offered a decent Chianti, which I sipped while snacking on their complimentary appetizer of bay shrimp in cocktail sauce served with tortilla chips. They called it Italian chips and salsa. A bit odd, but good. (I suggested to TC that they should use fried pasta strips instead of corn chips – sounds better, doncha think?)
After a leisurely meal of salad and manicotti, we got back into the kar (I drove this time)
in search of a party where some local musicians would be playing. TC’s brother was going and he gave us some rather vague directions: “turn right at the concrete bunker, if you get to what used to be the Koa campground, you’ve gone too far.” Despite about five passes, we were unable to spot the elusive bunker (“it’s been there your whole life”) so instead we headed back to the house for a relaxing evening with the local papers.
I had an early wake up call, as there were a lot of miles to cover on Monday. TC set up a beautiful farewell breakfast, complete with fresh cherries from their trees and he even offered to brew some coffee if I provided instructions. The java could wait, but I lingered a little too long over the oatmeal and banana bread and soon I was behind schedule, although not even started.
Before leaving the Flathead, TC insisted that I get some Montana huckleberries (which I had never had) so he escorted me to a fruit stand in Polson so I could grab this souvenir. These tiny berries were tart and tasty and I could see why the grizzlies like them so much! We said our good byes and I hit the road, heading back to Idaho along the northern route.
I stopped in Kalispell for gas and that deferred cup of Joe and was happy that I made the choice to cruise through town for a “look see.” I think that’s a place I’d like to spend a little time in. I then pointed the Kia west for the three hour drive along the Kootenai River through Libby and Bonner’s Ferry. This was a beautiful route and I had no regrets about going a little out of the way to enjoy the scenery and see a new part of the world. I munched on huckleberries as I drove, my lips turning dark purple. That would be an attractive look for the upcoming flight.
The only regret was that I was rushing, as I had plans to meet up with my friend and former co-worker Nancy for lunch in Sandpoint. I was running late, but fortunately so was she – and we finally did rendezvous downtown at a casual eatery on the water called Spuds. They had fabulous salads and sandwiches and, naturally, stuffed baked potatoes - we were in Idaho, after all. I had a turkey avocado sandwich with chipotle mayo and a diet coke, which seemed like a huge guilty pleasure after a couple of days with a health food junkie.
We ate and talked quickly and then headed up to her estate in the hills. Right now she and her hubby are living in a beautiful log house while they finish remodeling their main home next door. The homes are set in a lush forest but they’ve cleared a gigantic lawn area and it would have been a perfect spot for a croquet tournament. It will be truly lovely when all completed and I must confess to feeling a bit envious.
After a fast-paced tour, I jumped back in the silver rental car for the last leg of the journey back to the Spokane Airport. I made good time, despite the horrendous wreck on the freeway near the airport exit. They were filming it for the evening news as I drove by. I arrived in Reno right on time – and was I was back in Virginella and on Highway 395 headed south a little after 9:00 p.m.
It seemed like a long trip, even though I was only gone for four days, and it was chock full of great new experiences. I’m hoping I’ll get another chance to visit Big Sky Country before too long.
To maximize time, I booked an 8:30 a.m. flight out of Reno – which meant the alarm in Mammoth went off at 3:15 – ouch! It was smooth sailing on Southwest, through Boise and despite the fact that I didn’t recognize my own luggage on the baggage carousel; I was in the rental kar (a Kia) by noon.
I headed east toward Missoula, with the idea of stopping in Coeur d’Alene for lunch. I didn’t realize how the real estate boom had affected this area and was saddened by how busy and built up it has become. I did a quick tour through the old downtown and quickly got back on the interstate.
The roadway quickly began winding through the mountains and ski runs were carved into the adjacent hills. I pulled off in Kellogg to do a little snoop around and thought it was a place with a lot of potential. At present, slightly economically depressed, but with a small central business district and a ski area with the ubiquitous time share condos at the base of the lift. I stretched and strolled and then got back on the road, headed for the cutoff at St. Regis.
At this point, the scenery turned spectacular. I traveled on a two lane highway following the lower Flathead River with majestic peaks rising on all sides. This is the Montana I had envisioned – not the mining towns I’d seen as a youth. There were two kinds of music on the radio, heavy metal and Christian, so I had to sing the “rain song” of my childhood trip to these environs for entertainment.
Before I knew it, I was pulling into Polson and soon spotted the Safeway at the intersection of the two highways. I could even use my Club Card to stock up for the weekend. I’m liking this place already! I grabbed wine, French bread, garlic hummus, water and juice to stock the bungalow and for a snack, since I never did get around to lunch.
It took me a while to find the Islander Inn at Wood’s Bay (www.sleepeatdrink.com). Not sure why, since it was right on the highway and bright blue. Anyway, Trip Advisor did it again. This place was charming. It’s a small complex across the road from Flathead Lake with 8 rooms, each with an island theme: i.e. Anguilla, Crete, Maui. I had called the week before and they had just gotten a cancellation for Zanzibar, the African themed cottage with a kitchenette and Jacuzzi tub. Book ‘em Dano.
I dropped off the bags, opened a bottle of Pinot Grigio and sat on the lovely lawn overlooking the lake doing a quick manicure prior to TC’s arrival. As my polish dried, I migrated to the hammock, and that’s where I was swinging happily as his Audi pulled up.
We walked next door to the Flathead Lake Brewery where a band was playing outside on this gorgeous, sunny late afternoon. We settled inside at the bar and shared a beer “flight” which went straight to my head after having only had an ice cream sandwich since my fast food breakfast at the Reno airport at 7:00 a.m. Microbreweries in Montana are required by law to close at 8:00 p.m. (???), but I was giggly and happy as we strolled across the street to The Raven where we snagged a lakeside table on the deck. After another Flathead Hefeweisen, a salad and some yummy fried calamari, I was a little more composed – although shocked that my vegetarian friend had sampled my squid and ate the Chicken Pad Thai which he accidentally ordered. I must be a bad influence.
After lingering long into the light summer evening and watching sunset on the lake, we ambled back across the street and hung out in Zanzibar for awhile until TC made his exit to meet up with his sister’s family at the lake house. I filled the Jacuzzi, added some bubbles and relaxed in my African island bungalow.
We didn’t get the earliest start the next day, but were on the road to Glacier National Park by about 10:00 a.m. Since I hadn’t had time for breakfast, we pulled into Huckleberry House (or something like that) so I could grab a bagel and cream cheese. Oops – I was inadvertently handed a container of white icing, which I innocently slathered on. I started the day with a sugar rush.
It was a perfectly glorious morning as we headed up the “Going-To-The-Sun-Highway,” a road I’d always hoped to travel. As a mountain denizen, I’m not that easily impressed by peaks, but this drive was stunning. Those with a fear of heights: beware – there are sheer drops. I had no problem, as there were shoulders the whole way – unlike, say Monitor Pass or the road to Kennedy Meadows.
The Visitor’s Center parking lot was full, so we continued on to the Piegan Pass/Siyeh Creek trailhead (http://www.nps.gov/archive/glac/maps/trails_lp.htm) just beyond the summit of Logan Pass. TC strapped on his anti-bear air horn to scare off the grizzlies and off we went up the wildflower strewn trail. There was a bit of lingering smoke in the air after a week of wildfires, and I missed the cornflower blue of the Sierra sky, but truly appreciated and was amazed by the fact that there were no biting insects! We trekked for three hours with little time to rest and enjoy the vistas. I knew that hiking with a long distance runner would be a stretch for this “step, step, step, gawk” girl – but I stubbornly kept my slow deliberate pace, lagging far behind. Fortunately, no bears ate me. I didn’t see much wildlife or many birds, but a beautiful doe crossed the trail and grazed for several minutes less than 15 feet away, so I that I might enjoy it’s beauty.
We jumped back into car for the reverse trip down “Going-to-the-Sun,” mindful of the fact that we had lingered a little too long and might not make our dinner reservation (which in a supposedly rare act of advance planning TC had made two weeks in advance.) Sure enough, we were driving by Big Fork right at 6:00 which was when we were scheduled to dine. After a pleading phone call to the restaurant, the fastest showers in the history of vacationing hikers and a quick trip back into town, we settled into our table at Showthyme at exactly 6:30 p.m.
Famished would be a good word to describe someone who had only eaten half of a sugary bagel during a day of outdoor exploration. I think I inhaled the first basket of bread along with a glass of white wine before the appetizer appeared. The tower of eggplant caponata was stylish, if not quite as good as mine. Next up, shrimp in basil, tomato cream sauce with applewood smoked bacon which was tasty, although not memorable (overcooked prawns). I threw caution to the wind and ordered another glass of Pinot Gris which I would regret a little later, but what the heck – it was Saturday night and I was on vacation!
No time for dessert, as the show was about to begin at the Big Fork Community Playhouse next door. One of the major purposes of this trip was to see their production of “Pirates of Penzance,” as TC had played Frederick, the studly young pirate with a conscience, a decade earlier in his home town. I, too, was familiar with the show, as it was part of Summer Repertory Theater’s summer season in Mammoth 7 years ago. This was the group that mounted the production of “Grease” that I was in.
This little town had funded a very substantial performing arts facility, and it made me wonder why all the wealth in Mammoth couldn’t put up at least a makeshift theater. Ah well, the show was enjoyable, although I questioned the actresses wearing glasses and the directorial choices which took all the meat out of the story (not that there is a lot to begin with.) But if you’d like to put on a cutesy show, Gilbert and Sullivan are probably the appropriate authors/composers to choose.
If you’ll remember the comment I made about my wine intake earlier: I met TC’s parents for the first time at intermission (they had bought separate tickets). His mother graciously asked my opinion of the production. I started blathering about the dynamics of the show being off due to Ruth’s lack of sexuality and a how a lustier Ruth would heighten Frederick’s dilemma. I’m sure I made a fabulous first impression.
After the show, we went in search of a quiet little spot for a nightcap and conversation. Most of the Bigfork taverns had a band playing (which is where I would have been if traveling solo!) but instead we headed over to Marina Cay resort (www.marinacay.com) where TC plied me with Bourbon & Sevens while we huddled in a dark corner booth enjoying the lounge singer/pianist.
It turns out our server, Mario, was from Italy. I began teaching TC pidgin Italian so he could order: “Una birre Signiore, per favore – Grazie.” Then, this guy who looked like a skinny 70’s trucker with ripped cap sleeves on his t-shirt sat down next to the pianist and struck up a conversation. He pulled out an electric violin and started playing jazzy riffs to accompany her. They were quite brilliant together and we stayed, listening, for hours it seemed, finally closing out the lounge at 2:00 a.m. Ciao Mario!
Daylight came a bit too soon the next morning, but vacation fun never stops, so I reluctantly packed up and bid farewell to my slice of African paradise. We had set up a brunch date with TC’s family, so we got back on the highway heading south to the
Kwa TaqNuk Resort, lakeside in Polson.
It was another picture perfect day, and while I would have preferred the outdoor deck, we had a lovely leisurely brunch inside with a view of the lake. Mother, Father, and brother made me feel very welcome, which was good, as we were headed off to their lakeside home on the peninsula that leads to Finley Point. This would be my accommodation for night three and Trip Advisor could not have recommended a more idyllic setting..
The mid-century ranch house on the lake had the comfortable feel of a family vacation home, not the least bit pretentious. With a small cherry orchard at the rear, a sweeping lawn in front down to the shore, a dock and large outdoor deck attached to the house, it was the perfect place to hang out and chill after the previous two days of active travel. Also, since I was a tad sleep deprived, lazing on the dock in the warm sunshine was just what the doctor ordered.
After TC’s Mom departed to make the drive back home, his father took us out on the lake for a little sightseeing tour with four of the five family dogs. Fortunately, the vintage motorboat was large and comfy and all eight of us found seats (though the terrier, Basil, settled in my lap). We cruised along the shoreline, gawking at the trophy homes owned by celebrities and sports stars (like Howie Long). Then we floated by a few of the many small islands that dot the lake. What I wouldn’t have given to have my trusty binocs with me, as there were birds everywhere!
It was late afternoon when we returned to the “compound” and after a little more lazing around (what is a lake house for if you can’t just sit and talk and stare at the water?) we freshened up and headed to the local Italian Restaurant: Ricciardi’s Italian Seafood House. No red naughahyde booths (damn) but they offered a decent Chianti, which I sipped while snacking on their complimentary appetizer of bay shrimp in cocktail sauce served with tortilla chips. They called it Italian chips and salsa. A bit odd, but good. (I suggested to TC that they should use fried pasta strips instead of corn chips – sounds better, doncha think?)
After a leisurely meal of salad and manicotti, we got back into the kar (I drove this time)
in search of a party where some local musicians would be playing. TC’s brother was going and he gave us some rather vague directions: “turn right at the concrete bunker, if you get to what used to be the Koa campground, you’ve gone too far.” Despite about five passes, we were unable to spot the elusive bunker (“it’s been there your whole life”) so instead we headed back to the house for a relaxing evening with the local papers.
I had an early wake up call, as there were a lot of miles to cover on Monday. TC set up a beautiful farewell breakfast, complete with fresh cherries from their trees and he even offered to brew some coffee if I provided instructions. The java could wait, but I lingered a little too long over the oatmeal and banana bread and soon I was behind schedule, although not even started.
Before leaving the Flathead, TC insisted that I get some Montana huckleberries (which I had never had) so he escorted me to a fruit stand in Polson so I could grab this souvenir. These tiny berries were tart and tasty and I could see why the grizzlies like them so much! We said our good byes and I hit the road, heading back to Idaho along the northern route.
I stopped in Kalispell for gas and that deferred cup of Joe and was happy that I made the choice to cruise through town for a “look see.” I think that’s a place I’d like to spend a little time in. I then pointed the Kia west for the three hour drive along the Kootenai River through Libby and Bonner’s Ferry. This was a beautiful route and I had no regrets about going a little out of the way to enjoy the scenery and see a new part of the world. I munched on huckleberries as I drove, my lips turning dark purple. That would be an attractive look for the upcoming flight.
The only regret was that I was rushing, as I had plans to meet up with my friend and former co-worker Nancy for lunch in Sandpoint. I was running late, but fortunately so was she – and we finally did rendezvous downtown at a casual eatery on the water called Spuds. They had fabulous salads and sandwiches and, naturally, stuffed baked potatoes - we were in Idaho, after all. I had a turkey avocado sandwich with chipotle mayo and a diet coke, which seemed like a huge guilty pleasure after a couple of days with a health food junkie.
We ate and talked quickly and then headed up to her estate in the hills. Right now she and her hubby are living in a beautiful log house while they finish remodeling their main home next door. The homes are set in a lush forest but they’ve cleared a gigantic lawn area and it would have been a perfect spot for a croquet tournament. It will be truly lovely when all completed and I must confess to feeling a bit envious.
After a fast-paced tour, I jumped back in the silver rental car for the last leg of the journey back to the Spokane Airport. I made good time, despite the horrendous wreck on the freeway near the airport exit. They were filming it for the evening news as I drove by. I arrived in Reno right on time – and was I was back in Virginella and on Highway 395 headed south a little after 9:00 p.m.
It seemed like a long trip, even though I was only gone for four days, and it was chock full of great new experiences. I’m hoping I’ll get another chance to visit Big Sky Country before too long.
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