DUCK LAKE CAMPGROUND, MONTANA

Thursday morning, I heard from Russ—his hosts of the night before had convinced him to ride Going to the Sun road through Glacier National Park, and to meet me at Duck Lake by turning south from there, rather than coming north from route 2. So as I skirted the southern edge of Glacier with the dogs and my newly beefed-up hitch, Russ was riding through the heart of those majestic peaks. He promised to catch up to me on Friday, and to stay for some hiking. 

Duck Lake was unexpected—just 20 rustic, widely spaced campsites, all on the shore of the lake. There’s no water, but several sites have electric hookups. Not far from the eastern entrance to Glacier, it’s on the Blackfeet Indian Reservation; indeed, next door is a tribal campground, closed to outsiders. No one was in the office when I arrived at 5:30, but a passing camper suggested I find a site I liked and check back. I left the vehicles at the office and walked the dogs up the dirt road past the campsites, to stretch our legs and scope out the options. I met Matt, one of the hosts, chatting with another camper near the end of the line. He offered me and the dogs a ride back to the office in his car. On the way back, I pointed to site 8 as a possibility, but he quickly dissuaded me, saying “You don’t want that one. It’s haunted.” He did not elaborate. 

I decided to take site 7 instead, especially after he also told me that he’d frightened a grizzly away from site 8 just the day before. I have noticed that everyone here carries their bear spray with them, so I don’t think he was joking.

Then we ran into a problem: they don’t take credit cards or out of state checks. I’m one of those people who don’t carry cash any more, so that left us with a dilemma. After a telephone confab with his wife (“She’s the boss.”), it was agreed that they would trust me until the morning, when I promised to drive to the ATM in Leaning Tree. I settled into my shaded spot, and spent some time watching grebes, gulls, and pelicans on the lake. After watching the sun set behind Glacier Park, I snuggled in for a deep sleep. 

The next day I did, indeed, drive to Leaning Tree for the ATM—and an excellent breakfast. I returned to camp, and settled in to wait for Russ. In the meantime, I swam in the crystal clear waters of Duck Lake, relaxed in the cool breeze, and generally enjoyed the view of nearby Glacier Park. I was astonished to be approached mid-day by the hosts with a question: “Would I like some fish?” They handed me a beautiful rainbow trout that had to be at least 16 inches long. “Just caught this morning,” they assured me. Of COURSE I would like some fish! I thanked them profusely, and made plans to grill it for dinner after Russ arrived.

And then I waited, and waited…. and waited…

It wasn’t until nearly 7:30, when I went to the office to tell my hosts that I would drive to Leaning Tree, where I could get cell service, that they remembered that their WiFi had finally been repaired, and that I could use it. Then I received all of Russ’s messages from the previous two days, and found out that he had been directed all the way from Saint Mary’s, 9 miles away in Glacier Park, to Browning, 30 miles south of me, to a Duck Lake Campground that didn’t exist.

We finally connected by phone, and I set off to get him and his bike, which meant first emptying the back of the car of a great deal of weighty tools, equipment, extra food and clothing, storing anything that might attract bears in the camper, and then driving 30 miles to Browning with the dogs, who could not be trusted with all that extra food in the camper. Russ was starving when I found him, so after a quick stop at a gas station for fuel, we headed to the casino, the only place still open after 8 pm. Not our first choice under any circumstances, but they had burgers and fries, and—most importantly—ice cream. 

We left the casino after dark and were headed back to camp when a warning light I’d never seen before started flashing.  I pulled into the gas station where I’d just gotten gas a hour ago, and pulled out the car’s manual to find out what was going on. According to the manual, the engine was about to overheat. Russ was exhausted and brain dead by this time, so it was up to me to figure out what to do. I’m sure those of you who know more about cars would know immediately, but I was very glad for the help of two young Blackfeet men, who tactfully showed me how to fill up my coolant and got us back on the road.

Goodness knows how late it was when we got back. We still had to get the bike stowed, move all of the stuff back into the car, and then set up the bed in the camper before we could flop down and sleep. The fish would have to wait for another day. 

Saturday Russ worked on his bike, and we did finally grill that trout. It was delicious with grilled onions and sweet peppers, and some pretzel rolls I’d found on my trip here. 

Sunday we planned to return to Glacier so I could see the park, but I was feeling queasy and headachey so we decided instead to stay one more day and see Glacier on Monday. Hopefully I will feel better, and we will find it less crowded.