Wyoming to Montana
I could type up a play by play of what we did throughout our journey north...Instead I’m going tell you what I want to share: my experience, my thoughts, and my utter amazement of the mountains and the joy they can bring by living in a van.
This vanlife thing takes some getting used to. Arranging all of our gear like tetris blocks, peeing outside 90 percent of the time, dealing with a small amount of headroom while you’re trying to take out your contacts without a mirror; many things can become frustrating and a pain if you let them.
Pictures like this romanticize living out of a van to the extreme. Not all mornings are like this. Most recently, we woke up on the side of a road in Banff, windows covered up like a crack den to keep the sun and people out. But of course nobody wants to see a picture of that. This morning was exceptional. So was our campsite. But what these pictures don't include are the thousands of mosquitos that accompanied us throughout the evening and into the morning. Don't, for a second, let social media and photos like these lead you into thinking your life isn't awesome. Even if you have a nine-to-five and a mortgage, you can make amazing happen any old time. If you want to see these places and experience these things, all it takes is some motivation, planning, and courage.
The Tetons were a sight to behold, jutting out of the landscape like jagged pieces of broken glass above a flat window pane. The ridge would have to wait for now. The 40-mile backpacking trip is next on our list, friends in tow.
Something I’m slowly (keyword: slowly) starting to cherish as I grow up is getting up early. While I have a straight up talent for sleeping (I’ve been known to fall asleep just about anywhere), each time I wake up early and get going it’s almost as if the universe rewards me. Our early morning in Yellowstone was no exception.
Each sighting was special, though the hordes of tourists throughout the park did take away from each experience. It’s a strange conundrum. We want to have this nature all to ourselves and yet also want it to be accessible to the public...The only answer we could think of was to escape the madness and get into the backcountry.
Don’t let the pretty waterfall fool you. Mosquitos left us helpless and in a hurry to get into our tent. Also, let me just say that having to pee in the middle of the night in bear country is just about the most terrifying thing ever.
Yellowstone’s wildlife and thermal features are not something to downplay. This safe haven for animals and the protection of these beautiful, natural lands is something our country is most certainly doing right. That being said, it was extremely overcrowded and not necessarily a park we would recommend during the summer months.
A canoe was waiting for us in Great Falls, Montana. We took our chances on a detour and as dirt roads hit the tires we felt we couldn’t go wrong.
Unfortunately this wasn’t the case.
With no National Forest in sight we took a right turn on what looked like public land. At the first closed gate, we paused. Maybe this one just kept some cattle in? It’s not locked, so it must be fine. At the second closed gate, I wanted to turn around. Scott convinced me to keep going. Three gravestones on the side of the road greeted us just past the second gate. Edward, Etta, and Elizabeth Carlson. Fresh flowers were on each of the graves.
Fuck. That.
Once again, Scott convinced me to keep going down this godforsaken road even though I had that awful, creepy feeling in the pit of my stomach to turn around. We descended into the depths of a canyon where we saw an old cabin. To make matters even more scary, the sun had just set and there was a lightning storm. We looked ahead and just around the bend was an extremely bright spotlight lighting up a section of the canyon. We half expected to see a human sacrifice around that corner. We hightailed it out of there and didn’t look back.
I’m sure the Carlsons are (or were) a lovely bunch of people, but I most certainly didn’t want to hang around to find out. We picked up the canoe, jimmy-rigged a rack to put it on, and made it to Missoula just in time for the sunset.
Dave, a friend that Scott met in Banff last year, generously offered to take us kayaking just outside the city. A kayak guide himself, Dave looks at home on the river. He gave us the rundown of the section we would be doing, threw us some helmets and life jackets, and we were off.
This was the most fun I have ever had on a river. Each rapid was a challenge. If I got through still on my kayak, I won. If I fell in, I still won. Both times I fell in, it was a rush. I was never under the surface for more than a few seconds and as soon as I popped up Dave or one of his guide friends was right there to help me. Learning the ropes of this foreign sport was an absolute blast. I forgot how exhilarating it can be to try new adventure sports like that. I will definitely be getting back on the river as soon as I can afford yet another expensive hobby…
Farther north, the S.S. Chub would take her maiden voyage on Kintla lake in Glacier National Park. Why I ever doubted the purchase of the canoe, I’ll never know. The Chub did not disappoint in the backcountry. Complete with popping champagne, our overnight stay in Glacier was one for the books.
Pictures really don’t do this park justice. Lush green valleys jut into snow capped peaks everywhere you turn. We looked through the windows and were in awe of these amazing views. Each time we witness peaks such as these, I always ponder on who has stood at the summit. Who was the first person to summit that peak? Do you think they have summited in the winter time? How difficult would it be to summit? This park and its mountains are calling us to return.
Glacier National Park is right along the U.S. and Canada border. Eager to make our way up to Banff, we ditched the States and ventured into the land of poutine, caesars, and the nicest people on Earth.