Day 19 - Ponderay, Idaho to Kalispell, Montana - 171 Miles

Well, thanks to Christopher who fixed our pump problem yesterday afternoon, this morning, bright and early, it was time to break camp and get out on the highway. We might have been languishing in the RV center for half the day, but instead we set our goal for making Kalispell, Montana by cocktail hour, and make it we did. Thank you once again, Christopher my friend.

Our only stop of any note today was at the great falls of the Kootenai, which lie perhaps an hour's drive east of Bonner's Ferry on Route 2 in Montana. There, we decided to pull over, stretch our legs, and maybe take a "quick" look at the falls. Well, after parking the rig on their ample parking lot, and wandering over to the trailhead, we soon discovered that one does not take a "quick" look at the falls. We could tell immediately, since the sounds of the falls were quite faint, that we'd be walking a bit to see them.

After reading all the available information boards at the trailhead, which detailed both the geologic history and the exploration history of the area, we started off down the well-marked path toward the falls. When we had walked a few minutes, we came across a senior lady sitting on a bench at the edge of the canyon. We asked her if she had been to see the falls, and her response was, "Oh, I've been forbidden to make the rugged descent down this trail." She didn't elaborate at the time about whom had asked her to remain behind. We would later find out it had been her daughter, who then proceeded down the trail with other family members.

At this point Concetta decided to stay and chat with the lady, and I would make the "rugged descent" and come back and show her photographs. Little did I know that the rugged descent was but half of the story. After scrambling down the trail for a couple of hundred feet, I came to a bridge that spanned a railroad grade far below. Crossing the railroad bridge, I arrived at a set of stairs that furnished access to the forest floor about fifty feet below. The stairs were broad and sturdy, but had been designed for traction in snowy as well as dry conditions. I had to watch my footing and proceed carefully.

Once on the far side of the bridge, I looked back to see if Concetta had changed her mind and had followed me down to the bridge, but I couldn't see any sign of her. So, I forged ahead on the trail that began at the bottom of the stairs. Fifteen or twenty minutes later, I finally arrived at the Kootenai River where a few other intrepid hikers had gathered. All around the canyon edge people had cut extra trails, I suppose to reach good spots for photography, but the existence of these extra trails did at times get confusing.

So, it turned out to be a long walk to get to the falls, but the grandeur of the setting made it well worth the effort. The thunderous sound of the falls dominated everything, and the ferocity of the rapids, as the water exploded between the rocky banks on each side, was just mesmerizing. I tried shooting from as many positions as possible, but the sun's location, behind and just to the south of the falls, made really good shots extra difficult.

Truly, I would have been quite happy to bring a picnic lunch, find a shady spot, and just experience the falls for the rest of the day had I my way. But I had been gone so long already, I was worried that Concetta might start to wonder if I'd fallen into the river or something. Tell you what, if you DID fall into the river it would be last thing you ever did. In fact, over the years seven people have lost their lives by getting too close and falling into the raging rapids.

I set quite a brisk pace going back. By the time I had wandered around looking for the trail back, jogged down the path when I finally found it, climbed the fifty vertical feet of stairs to the bridge, and then climbed up the hillside to where I'd left Concetta, I felt like I'd run a half marathon. I know it wasn't that long, but I sure was huffing and puffing by the time I hit the park bench where Concetta was happily still chatting with the grandmother, whose daughter had by then returned from her own hike down, and was now sitting next to her mother.

Turned out the grandmother had been married to a man who had worked for the Western Electric Company for his 30-year career, the same company for which my dad had worked starting right after World War II. This bit of information had kicked off a lively conversation between the grandmother, her daughter, and Concetta that was still going on as I approached. I don't think Concetta had even been aware how long I'd been gone. Good thing I hadn't fallen into the river!

After that, we hiked back up the trail to the little snack shack that lay at the edge of the parking lot. Concetta encouraged me to stop and buy an ice cream cone or something, but I decided it was too close to lunch and I'd pass. Besides, after getting 5,000 steps or more on my pedometer by going down to the falls, I sure didn't want to add back the calories I'd lost after doing all that work.

By the way, here's what we learned from the informational signs at the park:

The Kootenai River, as it flows and tumbles by the county park, is confined to a narrow gorge and ledges of sedimentary rock. The rocks here date from the Precambrian era and are 1.5 billion years old! They formed in an ancient inland sea. Imagine [the sign said] this mountainous area being completely covered by water.

The only fossils in these old rocks are stromatolites, which are fossilized remains of blue-green algae.

Between 15,000 and 12,800 years ago, the land here [continued the sign] was in the last phases of the Ice Age which covered the valley under 4,000 feet of ice. As the ice melted and retreated around 14,000 years ago, the ancestral Kootenai River cut through hundreds of feet of glacial sediments over thousands of years to achieve its present elevation. The Kootenai Falls currently has a drop of 90 feet per mile from above the falls to the lower canyon where it flattens out.

Wow! 1.5 Billion!!!

For the rest of the day we just happily motored east on Montana Route 2 in the direction of Glacier National Park. We stopped at the city park in Libby for lunch, and coincidentally had a conversation about Libby on Facebook with a long-time co-worker of mine, Tina, who calls the town "her old stomping grounds." Libby is a pretty town, and had it not been so early in the day, we would have been perfectly happy stopping over for the night at Libby's Woodland RV Park, which is now owned by one of Concetta's co-workers from her Legislative Counsel Bureau days in Nevada. Small world indeed!

We made only one other stop in this largely forested Route 2 area, and that was to consult the Good Sam book about potential RV camps in Kalispell just a dozen miles ahead. While Concetta consulted the book, I decided to let my sense of adventure have free reign, and I wandered away from the rig to check out the wonderful basaltic (think lava) cliffs that lay just beyond the rest stop. If you get too close to the edge, you better watch out for the sudden drop of fifty or more feet. But putting the danger aside, the juxtaposition of the level and fertile valley floor in the distance, and the ancient volcanic cliffs under my feet was quite startling.

When we got to camp tonight, a small park known as Glacier Pines, we were a bit disappointed. Not only was the park seemingly not open, and the office closed for the day, but the whole place appeared a bit neglected and overgrown. Still, moments later a chap appeared and told us he had contacted the manager, and she was on her way. Once she'd arrived, the manager turned out to be quite pleasant and the price, with the Good Sam discount, was just slightly above the average we've experienced on this trip.

On a funny note, last night when we pulled into the park in Ponderay, Idaho, the place also looked overgrown and ill-tended. But moments after we arrived, and had discussed the fact that the grass sure needed cutting, a lad appeared and started cutting it. Tonight, as we pulled into Glacier Pines, Concetta also remarked that the grass sure needed cutting. So you can guess what happened next. Yup, a lad came out and immediately started cutting the grass. All I can say is, either both park managers telepathically overheard us agree on the subject of grass, or Concetta has some sort of magical power over the grass cutters of this world that has yet to be fully explored.

Once we had pulled into our spot and leveled the rig, we set about doing some laundry. Fortunately, the facility was empty and Concetta had it all to herself. The machines appeared to be fairly modern and also fairly clean. We've stayed in all sort of camps over the years. Every sort of facility from the incredibly beautiful and expertly run, to the monumentally ugly and tragically neglected have been our hosts. For the most part, if the sewer, water, and electrical can be made use of, we're good to go. But Concetta won't hear of doing our laundry in a dirty and neglected facility, so we sometimes pass on that chore at certain camps.

And, well, that's about it for today's adventures. Tomorrow we're headed into Glacier National Park, and, hopefully, the Museum of the Northern Plains Indians, which promises to be terrific. So stay tuned! And when YOU hit the road on your next RV trip, we hope that the grass is always mowed, the laundry rooms are clean, and the wind is always at your back. We wish you exciting destinations and memorable travels from the Davises, the Happy Wanderers.