EMERGENCY RISK REDUCTION

Only a sliver of Yellowstone Park is in Montana, but it is an important sliver. Mammoth Hot Springs is the gateway to Yellowstone, which was our 1^st National Park. Naturally it is also touristy, though not overly so because of the WuFlu lockdown. For that reason, I saw almost as many elk as visitors. 

Heading north through the Gallatin Mountains, I stopped stopping by a Minuteman Missile Site museum and viewing area. Interesting, especially because my nephew Nigel is career Air Force working with missiles. Interesting history, esp. poignant during the Cold War era. Up I 90, I stopped into Missoula, hoping to visit the US Forest Service paratroopers headquarters, which was also closed. Passing through the Deer Lodge Valley, I wondered the location of our ranch before we moved to South Carolina in 1953.

Soon after, I took a right turn off of I-90, and headed toward Flathead Lake. Lovely valleys and an azure postcard lake. I kept due north, and ‘poof’…soon found myself at the west entrance of Glacier Park. Snows had already closed ‘Going to the Sun’ road, but I saw the lovey McDonald Lake. My regret was not getting a coffee cup as a memory, so I will have to come to Glacier again soon!

Heading west past Whitefish and Kalispell, I crossed into Idaho. Decision time at the hilly, river town of Bonner’s Ferry. I decided to head north and cross into Canada in the East Kooteneys.  In the back of my mind during the entire trip was the mandate to quarantine for 14 days. I was amply grilled by Canadian border guards on where I came from, where I was going, and my plan for quarantine. I explained that I was traveling alone, only in rest areas, and my destination was an isolated farm on Vancouver Island.   Finally, they conceded and I passed thru. I am unsure what other option they had. Or what more they needed. I am a Canadian permanent resident, so can’t be refused entry. It was all a bit surreal. But such is 2020.

Traveling west from the Kooteneys, I passed thru the sun-drenched farming town of Osoysys, stunning and snowy Manning Park, and other spots paralleling the US border. At Hope, I hung a right up the Frazier Canyon for a one hour drive, to fulfill the promise of seeing my son at his firebase in Lytton while he is quarantining.  A lovely road up the canyon – rivaling any bi-way I had traveled during the cross-country trip.   Sheldon and I had a good, albeit short, visit in this small town. I then headed to the ferry but took a wrong road in Vancouver, and made the last boat by a slim 5 minutes. That was an adrenaline rush that I didn’t need.

I arrived into Rosemeade Farm after midnight. I had safely made it. The trip took 8 ½ days. Approximately 4000 miles. I had stayed on secondary and more picturesque roads for much of the trip. And cherished memories of small towns and rural settings. This included almost non-existent crowds due to WuFlu travel restrictions.

The Tundra had been a faithful companion.  Now we were both in quarantine. This would nix visits to good friends I hadn’t seen since June.  Even my son and daughter.  But the farm was calling. And there was plenty to do.

Thanks for reading.