gambling...

sometimes, when on the road, off the grid, or in the wild, you have to gamble a little bit. with proper planning you obviously hedge your bets, but at the end of the day, every decision has a bit of gambling in it, when the world around you is in far more control that you are.

are we going to have enough gas to make it to the next dot on the map? i think so. (PSA: not all montana towns have services...)

if i go down this trail, are there going to be elk/moose/bears? pocket knife: check. bear spray: check. healthy fear/respect of nature: check.

which route do i take to get where i'm going? are the roads closed? mountain passes impassable?

and the one the one that affected us most yesterday: do we leave the comfort of our great campsite on the East Side of Glacier (at the edge of a meadow, under the snow capped mountains, with the rushing of a river in the distance, mind you...) and travel to the West Side of Glacier for another type of experience? Two hours over winding, gravely, no-guardrail, beautiful mountain "highway" (barely paved road is more appropriate). Each way.

either we stay or we throw the chips in and gamble that it will be an equally awesome experience.... no coming back.

well...........i've had a lot of luck on the road in my traveling over the years.....yesterday was not one of those lucky times.

no sooner had we made the arduous journey to West Glacier, but angry clouds rolled in on us, and the bottom dropped out. middle of the day. middle of the summer. cold, angry, dark, dark skies. and we learned a valuable lesson. no campsite looks good when it's torrentially pouring rain.

sadly, the mountains, the lake, and all the glacial beauty was kind of darkened as well. but all was not lost. like most times, a little patience goes a long way.

the sun broke, the lake shimmered, the mountains glistened, and hope returned to our little world. we made our camp, took our pictures and picnic-ed down by the water's edge (at 9pm actually, which doesn't seem weird when it's light until 10:30pm), enjoying some warm food as the sun slipped behind the mountains across the lake. a perfect (salvaging) finish to our day.

we gambled our effort and experience, and for a while it was looking like a clear loss. we hung our heads for a bit. but all was not lost, and like many times on the road, when we looked for the silver lining, we weren't disappointed...

the longest day

So I’ve been thirty for a few days now, and let me tell you, if these last four days have been any indication of the year (or decade) to come, I am in for a ride.

[I need to also thank all my friends and family, and especially my wife, for my birthday gift. Carly requested and compiled well wishes, encouragement, thoughts, blessings and memories from thirty friends/family. It is indescribable to know that you are loved. She is great. You all are great. Life is great…]

And to that end, I have been filled with such joy these last days. After our stormy start, and enough detours to last a lifetime, let me tell you that things have fallen into place, and The Road, in all its romantic beauty, has proven again to be a old friend, with new mysteries and adventures, revealing even more God-hewn-wild-country than before.

Carly and I have found a wonderful rhythm as road trip companions, mixed with memory-filled-music, mapping routes, morning sunshine snoozing (by her mostly…), telling and re-telling old stories, and sometimes just staring out into the big sky, marveling.

As I’m writing, I’m remembering that a lot has happened since I last wrote. We had planned to stay Sunday night at the Badlands, a refuge for the outlaws of old, and a place with an untold and other-worldly beauty. But it wasn’t in the cards. Storms move fast and hit hard out on the prairie, and having had our share of thunderstorms, we thought we’d pass. We headed on.

Having taken the time to see Rushmore and Crazy Horse, we stumbled, not upon a mountain hotel which had been the plan, but a quaint camping spot nestled in granite boulders and pine trees overlooking a small lake. It poured all night on us, except when we needed to break camp the next morn. How kind.

Next stop was in Billings, for a shower, a warm bed, a few sweet moments with friends, and to buy some bear spray. That’s right. Bear spray. Can’t go to Glacier without bear spray. Come on.

Which now brings us to a tent on the longest day of the year, at the base of a snow capped mountain range, overlooking a glacial melt lake, thousands of miles from home, at the top of the world, it would seem. I feel like I’d need fifty June 21’s to take in and appreciate all that we've seen.

…and it may come as no surprise to you, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now. It’s been a good day…