May 23

This morning I got into Whitefish early to get my neck worked on. The massage therapist's name is Angie and she knows her stuff. The massage has helped today with the pain and the range of movement. We had a very nice conversation while she was working on me. I wish Ron had been there to watch so that he could pick up some massage tips. She was really good about locating all the trouble spots. She jabs one of those spots, and it really hurts, then feels so good. I suppose this is a socially acceptable form of S&M. I like feeling like a rag doll. We talked about square dancing. She gave me some pointers on how to take care of my neck and shoulder. Indeed, I'm doing all the wrong things. She said my neck was longer than most, so I needed to be mindful of it. I feel like Mary, Queen of Scots.

Her studio had the massage muzak that I've come to expect and dread whenever I get a massage. (I'm used to it.) She had a whole shelf of colored Christmas lights, faeries, and crystals. It reminded me of our fireplace mantle. She talked a little about her religious faith, too. I suspect it's heterodox, and more power to her! People find their own ways to make meaning. In a practice like massage, it's probably more open to those ideas simply because massage, itself, tends to be a heterodox practice. Angie is a wise woman, and she loves the San Diego Zoo.

I went shopping on the way back to the resort, deciding I'd cook dinner for everyone. I got some more salmon, not really because I love salmon, but hey man, I'm on vacation, and it's easy to fix! Grace and Ron had stepped out for a walk, but happily for me had left the door unlocked. Mom, Kat, Pattie, and Mike had gone out for breakfast, then exploring. We hung around here for a while, then took off for some exploring ourselves.

The closest entrance to Glacier Park is West Glacier (guess what the name to the east entrance of the park is). The park is about 35 miles from here. You go through a couple of mountain towns, each proclaiming that it is the Gateway to Glacier. The Rising Sun Highway is closed about 15 miles inside the park, but you can drive up to the bottom of Logan Pass. So that's what we did.

Let me make this very clear: the scenery is breathtaking. Without ever leaving the comfort of your vehicle, you would experience a lifetime thrill just driving into the park. Although I'm sure we would miss a spectacular view on top, I don't feel too bad for having experienced the incredible panoramas that I did see. Our first stop was Lake MacDonald. It has a lodge, and all the college help were diligently cleaning, planting, sweeping, smoking, and playing. Everything was closed, but the organism was slowly waking up. I'm sure if we went every day over the next couple of weeks, we'd see the lodge yawn a couple of times, stretch, and preen a bit, smile and be ready for hordes of tourists (like us) to descend. The lake is beautiful. We went down to the dock and walked around the grounds of the lodge.

It's a perverse thrill to see the park in the off season. The roads are empty, the pull outs are waiting only for you. The sights are yours alone to cherish, and there are no traffic jams. Of course, there's no place to stay or anything to eat either.

We headed on up the road toward Logan Pass. The road was closed at Avalanche Gorge. It's the trailhead for several trails, one of which heads up to Avalanche Lake. We hiked up that trail to the gorge, which during spring runoff is wild, and loud. You can really see the power of water as it races down the chute. The little walk we took is in a cedar rain forest. I was surprised to see one so high in altitude, and so far inland. Bright, abundant beds of moss covered rock surfaces. Some parts of the trail were built on wooden walkways above the ground. It's a very quiet, natural cathredral.