The Glacier Saga

It all began with a boy....

Ok, well not really... but kinda... it would be folly to deny that a boy didn't play a role in my consideration of venturing to Glacier last summer. It got your attention though, didn't it?

I'll admit, I wasn't looking to work in Glacier last spring. I wasn't even looking for a job at all- I already had one, albeit a not-so-salaried one. But a job none-the-less mentoring kiddos I had already dedicated one summer of my life to.

And here I am the better part of a year later much to my amazement, considering the tumultuous turns of the summer and the fact that I had all these grand travel plans for what I was going to do after my grand Glacier adventure... not that those plans have been discarded, they've simply been delayed.

So here I sit, in a cabin on the edge of the park next to a wood stove with the wind howling just outside my window and I think, why? Why am I in a place in the middle of winter with few other people around, no nightlife to speak of, and nothing but yak-traks, snowshoes, skis, and skates for amusement (a situation I've been known to occasionally complain about I'll admit)?

I'm here for the wolf track five minutes from my door that's larger than my hand, for the challenge of finishing a snow-survey before the wind knocks the metal tube from your hands and the train rolls to a creaking stop blocking your route back to the car, for the adventure of skiing 15 miles of unbroken trail with a ski-pole held together by duct-tape and ski-boots with ripped lacings that freeze solid to too-skinny skis.

I'm here for the sight of a sleek & lanky mountain lion vaulting itself across the road in pursuit of a white-tailed deer on the way to work, for the look on an out-of-staters face snowshoeing for the first time on a clear day by St. Mary lake, for the laughter that results from snowshoe racing &, consequently, face-planting in the snow,  for the knowledge that every day brings something unexpected, for the solace that the mere existence of these mountains lend to one's soul.

I'm here because I can be here.
And that's all there is to know.

Wanderlore.

"Life is short, play hard..........but play safe :)"

Reads an email from a mentor. Ok, well, one of my mentors.

Now I'll be the first to admit that I am quick to look up to outdoorsy, knowledgable people who have succeeded in making careers out of the line of work I crave. And, by working in Glacier National Park, it goes without saying that I have found many mentors.

There's the soft-spoken naturalist who proposed to his wife just a week after leading her on a hike at a Nature Conservancy guest ranch because they "just knew." Montana in the summers, Arizona in the winters. Leading hikes and leaving students spellbound by revealing how every little thing in nature connects, from blade of grass to grizzly bear.

There's the graceful wildlife biologist who moved to Glacier as soon as she graduated from the University of Montana and never moved away, working at the East Glacier Ranger Station for 25 winters and becoming a cross-country skier like no one's business.... and still, STILL sharp as a tack and as lovely as the day she graduated from college (well, so I imagine).

There's the geologist-turned-ranger-turned adjunct professor who keeps tabs on my Glacier life by giving me advice on how to extend my Glacier season as long as possible (read: how to delay the proverbial "real world" interminably... well, for the foreseeable future at least) and telling tall tales of mountain-climbs past.


Such mountains to climb and heavenly places to play in have always been a priority in my life. I've realized, though, that having people with equally beautiful, awe-inspiring souls are even more important to have around. It's the landscape that attracts you but the people that make you stay.

My time in Glacier thus far has been a whirlwind of faces, places and experiences which, when woven together, have begun to create a narrative, a saga, a legend in their own right.

I came for a season, I've stayed for a year. The sights and stories exposed at every "Hi, I'm ____" plant an enticing seed in my mind of "what ifs" and "what's nexts"....


And every time I turn to leave, my attraction to Glacier's lore inevitably lures me back.