I passed through Browning on the way to GNP, home of the Blackfeet Nation. Once inside the park, at the Visitors Center I read about the Treaty of 1895, where the Blackfeet sold mining rights to the federal government within their homeland, after a starvation winter of 1893. They were told they could continue to live, hunt, fish as they always had, as long as the land remained public. After the park was established in 1910, it was designated no longer public land, so all their access was denied. I was heartened to see this information still on display, but saddened as I thought of the white-washing happening in our national parks. The Blackfeet still strongly believe their ancestral homeland was stolen from them via this deceptive treaty.
The Great Northern Railway wanted to foster high-end luxury travel, and within three years of the establishment of the park had built several grand lodges to cater to the clientele eager to experience the rugged landscapes of the Wild West. At first the only way to make the last part of the journey was on horseback or by boat. The National Park Service also wanted to foster tourism, and as more people were traveling by car, The Going to the Sun Road was built to provide a scenic drive over the Continental Divide. An engineering marvel, it took eight years to complete and opened in 1933. The Blackfeet consider it a giant scar across the mountains, but acknowledge it brings people to this beautiful land, who can also appreciate its grandeur.
And here I am, passing through in 2026 in my van. Sharon and I were lucky to spend time at the historic lodge on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon before it burned down. The dining room looked like the one in Hogwarts. I wanted to spend time in the lodges here. So, I took myself to dinner, first at Many Glacier Hotel, then at Lake McDonald Lodge. Both times there were pianos, with a sign saying “Talented pianists are welcome to play. Parents, keep your kids off!”. I miss playing a real piano, so I got myself a martini and did a little set. Several people came up to say how much they enjoyed the music, so we got to talking, and it all felt really nice. At Many Glacier Hotel, there was even a piano in the dining room, so I played as I waited for my meal. The waitress comped me a wine and dessert. Sadly, some classical pieces I've played since college with no concern for memorization are wisping away. Then again, maybe it was the martini…
Sharon and I had been to GNP once before, with friends Debby and Tom. I did the same hike to Iceberg Lake, 10 miles round trip. Then, it was August, and Debby and I swam in the lake, with ice flows floating in the water. It was so cold my skin felt like it was burning. There was no swimming for me this time, although I was told another hiker had just gone in! On the way, I caught up with a big group walking slowly, because three bighorn sheep were moseying along the trail, munching as they went. Finally they veered off. I got a laugh when I called it a Ram Jam. On that hike I also saw a grizzly bear down in the valley, a few mule deer, a huge snowshoe hare, and lots of marmots.
Seeing places like this, learning the history, I'm struck by the speed of cultural transformation, while the mountains move on a whole other timeline. I feel like I'm repeating myself, but it's because it keeps hitting me. The push of Manifest Destiny and romance of the West, the Discovery Corps, the Louisiana Purchase, The Missouri Compromise, the Civil War, the Gold Rush, the Trail of Tears; it all happened so fast.
