Today would have been Dad’s 90th birthday. It’s somehow appropriate that Frank and I will meet up later today.
Woke up in pain. Everything hurt: head, back and legs. But at least I slept! Got another early start and went into downtown Missoula to walk around Rattlesnake Creek. Sun bright and dazzling, it was cool (48 degrees) and quiet but for the horn of a train moving through town. I was glad I had brought a vest and jacket. Of course, locals were dressed in t-shirts and shorts.
After our walk, we hit a local farmer’s market bustling with people and activity. Sunflowers and flathead cherries are very popular. Among the real-life vegetable and flower displays, I could have painted some lovely still-lives — if I could paint!
I love a good weather-beaten face, man or woman, because it tells a story. (I hope my own face will tell a good story as well — hopefully one with much laughter.) Have seen many interesting characters, such as a woman in long jeans, dusty mud-caked boots and spurs; a tall, thin cowboy with a face like a scarred hatchet; and a father-daughter team getting ice-cream, each wearing long jeans and matching mud-caked boots. Nothing fancy here — the boots tell a story as well.
Found the bookstore, “Fact or Fiction,” which had its own regional section of writings, different from Bozeman. Finding too many books to buy! ( I’ve noticed that park ranger stations with gift shops often have unusual local selections as well.)
After a good lunch at “Doc’s,” we drove out of town on US 93N. We decided to take a slightly circuitous route to Hungry Horse, near the western gate to Glacier National Park. Took 200W to 342N to 28E through rolling foothills, the mountains like a dim promise in the distance. I must resolve to know they are there even if I cannot see the details of their faces.
As we sidled up to Flathead Lake, 197 square miles (one of the largest freshwater lakes in the country), the view through the pines reminds me of Lake Tahoe. I could see myself in a contemporary house, mostly wood and glass (yes, I’ve given this some thought), overlooking the lake, even when the mountains are only a hazy outline. Can you imagine this in the fresh-snow sunshine of April?
The cities of Flathead and Kalispell kind of run together. We decided to cruise through Whitefish, which wins the prize for most upscale when an Aston Martin drops into traffic. As we backtracked to Hungry Horse, we travel about a half mile of gravel road up into a narrow valley, where the placid Flathead River “runs through it.” Our little motel, a mom & pop operation, sits among the pines alongside a mountain. Tom could not have picked better. It will be so good to stay in one place for 4 nights.
Frank arrived sometime after 8:30 from Sheridan, WY. Dad’s silver Cadillac roadster with CA plates, wears the same bug-eating smile as our Nissan. Frank brought some See’s Candy (on ice) for us — bless him. We congregated in our room and spent a little time catching up. It is so good to finally be with my brother.
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