Columbia Falls, Montana.
It has been a long time since I have been to this part of the state. Close to ten years. Columbia Falls was the last chance to supply before I went north toward the Wedge Canyon Fire in 2003, as a line medic. IMS Dragonslayers. I visited a few years after that, when the fireweed was prevalent, and the earth was still scorched, dry, and brittle. During the return trip, I found many of the old haunts from my deployment. During this trip, I couldn’t say I remembered all that much, aside from the obvious places. Polebridge Mercantile. The Glacier National Park Entrance Station. One particular curve in the gravel road.
Eventually some things began to fall back into place. Being here requires effort, and travel is slow on gravel roads, allowing time for thought. I remembered Round and Big Meadow. I remembered a couple of trailheads, the skyline ridge above Kintla Lake, the rainbow of colors just under the water. Clear as glass. The mountains visible from the North Fork of the Flathead River spoke to me. They are unlike any other skyline I have known, any other mountain range I have experienced. Yet, they remain inaccessible, untouchable, distant.
Driving up the North Fork Road with my new bride was a beautiful, wonderful, and strange experience. She and I had spoken earlier in the day about wanting to visiting new areas together, rather than only those areas known in my youth. We wanted to make our own memories, rather than relive mine. She was right in wanting to do so. I spent the drive trying to remember things that are so vivid in my memory, yet remain locked away by time. This confusion was compounded by the fact we are married for less than a week. That change has not fully registered.
I have a romantic notion of my younger days. My time spent up there was enlightening, terrifying, and foundational in my becoming who I am today. That aura hanging over my head made it difficult to stay in the moment with my new wife. We took many, many pictures of Kintla Lake and the mountains guarding Canada from the western shore. Eventually, we walked around to the Kintla Lake Ranger Station, wrapped up for the winter. The chill in the air was pleasant as we sat on the boat dock and finally slowed our rhythms. We didn’t say much. We made new memories. And we’ve only just begun.
JFL