The first few weeks of being back in Montana were not necessarily according to plan, but allowed for me to get my head back in the game.
I had been expecting to spend a few days in Pburg and then head out on a short camp to some familiar lakes. A buddy of mine was heading out of town to visit family. He had a dog, it needed to be watched, thus I became useful.
Days were mostly spent walking local trails, running to build cardio, and drinking to rebuild Montana-grade tolerance. Of course, to build that tolerance I must go to the bar, and once there I met this year’s summer interns. A fine crop of motivated kids indeed. It is a heavy and slightly astringent reality that these would have been the same group under my watch had shit not hit the fan like it had. To show young fries the spectacular wilderness of the Last Great Place was the most enjoyable part of my duties as a lodge manager.
5 years ago when I came out to Montana I was left awestruck. I was one of these kids I see now, kicking brass and ready to get out in there. The innocent stupidity of running around a place such as Glacier National park in jesus sneakers and hydrating with a flask of Jack was never forgotten. In many ways I still am just as stupid. Hell, I still hydrate with whiskey, but my respect for this place is something that has continually grown.
Chances are great that I’ll still be showing the 2014 crew some of my secret spots. It’s nice to know that even though I’ve been blackballed from my former residence, they can’t kick me out of it’s better half.