Unexpected Happiness
The Empire Builder was seven hours late leaving Portland, Oregon on Tuesday, June 17. A freight train had broken down somewhere in Idaho and all the trains in the Pacific Northwest were backed up. Union Pacific, the freight train company, owns the tracks that Amtrak uses. As a consequence, Amtrak must yield to their schedule. Our train fell another two hours behind before reaching East Glacier Park Village in Montana where I planned to step off. The delay had some people at their wits end with stress. They had to rearrange work days, pick up times, cigarettes to smoke. On the other hand, many passengers like myself were interested in what could be seen in broad daylight which otherwise would have been passed in the dark of night. One thing is for certain: by being on a different schedule we were very much on time for beautiful scenery.
My intent on this leg of the trip was to find a way into Glacier National Park and explore. I arrived in the evening instead of the morning due to the delay, so I secured a second night at my motel which gave me the whole of the following day to realize my intentions. Glacier National Park is also known as The International Peace Park between the United States and Canada. It was established on land in the northern most part of the state of Montana and borders the provinces of Alberta and British Columbia. Glaciers are the main attraction, along with wildlife like the mountain goat. Grizzly Bears reside in the park now (as a result of being driven out by settlements on the plains), along with black bears and mountain lions. Birds, wildflowers, and many other species of mammals are in abundance, especially during summertime. Long before The United States and Canada laid claim to protect these natural areas, it was lived on by indigenous peoples. The decedents of those natives still live on the land and are an integral part of local, modern culture.
The motel host suggested I hitch a ride with a cab company owned and operated by a middle-aged Native American woman, Robin, of the local Blackfeet tribe. Robin escorted me and a young British couple into Glacier Park and shared information about the area from the Native American perspective. The ranger at the park entrance and Robin realized they were cousins by way of the Bird Clan of the Blackfeet tribe. Once in the park, we learned from Robin that mountain and lake names have recently reverted to their original, indigenous names. We passed a waterfall she promised to make a special stop for on our return trip. It had been a place where women of the Blackfeet tribe would go for fasts and vision quests. Robin told us she had seen a cougar crossing the road while escorting a pair of hikers earlier that morning. At this, I lamented forgetting my binoculars to birdwatch. Robin quickly offered her own to me for the day. I gratefully accepted.
On Two Medicine Lake, where Robin dropped us off, I kayaked to the base of Rising Wolf Mountain. I did not venture far after beaching on the rocky shore. Forgoing footpaths, I chose to follow the shoreline and found a dry, rocky stream bed that would normally flow intothe lake. I scrambled upstream thinking it a better than any other path. It was not long before I heard trickling water though, and realized a fresh, new stream was flowing down the dry bed toward the lake. Astonished at the opportunity to bear witness to such a unique occurrence, I decided to observe the process of the stream joining the lake. It was not flowing quickly and was only about a hundred yards from the shore. The process took approximately an hour. Insects of all kinds scurried from under rocks to evade the filling of the stream bed. When the water finally reached the lake the sun broke free from the clouds. Synchronicity was at work, but there was no need for numbers or ratios. This was the rhythm of Earth. Incalculable. Integral. Unfolding. With Robin’s binoculars swinging around my neck, I let out a sharp cry over the lake as the stream began feeding the lake. A startled killdeer flew up from behind a boulder, disappearing deeply into the sky.
During the meditative experience of watching the stream touch the lake, I noticed a small snowpack further upstream on the lower side of Rising Wolf Mountain. I walked up a footpath from the shore as far as it would take me and then hiked cross-country to reach the snowpack. Amazingly, there was a river flowing underneath it which had carved a long cave big enough to scramble inside. The sound of the river was deafening from within. Sunlight shone through the snow roof with a sky blue illumination. This was an architecture unmatched by any set of tools. It was built by the elements alone. Sacred is the only word that came to mind.
I departed the following day on The Empire Builder which snakes through the rest of Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Illinois. It had regained the normal schedule. I happened to sit around other artists. Across the aisle was a visual artist from Milwaukee; in front of him, an elderly sculptor turned lounge singer from North Carolina. Behind me was an soprano saxophone player (Tony Street) who was seated with a German videographer (Insa Langhorst). Tony has a wonderful uplifting spirit and a contagious positive attitude. I overhead Insa ask Tony where he is originally from to which he confidently responded: “All over.”
By the time I arrived in Chicago the following evening it had been an unforgettable train ride filled with heartwarming conversation. The British couple from Glacier were on the same train until St. Paul and we played cards with a man from Detroit who was returning after a long stay in Alaska. Tony had entertained people on the platforms at various stops and in the observation car for hours. Insa invited me to a music festival in Chicago where she was hired to film a band from Australia. The sculptor turned lounge singer gave me a crash course in film noir. I gifted them each a copy of my Rusty Compass CD. The art student from Milwaukee complimented me on the cover artwork which made me feel good. Everything would have been different without the delay back in Portland. It was a lesson not to be pessimistic about uncontrollable events that change your plans. It may very well bring an abundance of unexpected happiness.
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