What I have learned – Glacier 2024

At the end of every summer working at Glacier Park, I like to post what I have learned. My childhood curiosity about the world keeps my mind open, and I am always looking for more.

This one got a little long, which shows that you can never learn enough while traveling through this experience called Life.

I learned if you are going to truly commit to anything, make sure it’s worth the blood and scars to follow (literally).

During a pre-season hike up to Sperry Chalet in the snow, I slipped while crossing some trees over the trail. I got the wind knocked out of me, and even worse, I got a horrible nickname. I don’t even like that hike; I just wanted to get in some trail miles.

I learned to choose if an effort is worth my time. I only have so many miles left of knee cartilage and so many soles that can be replaced on my boots. Sometimes, spending a nice afternoon on one of those rocking chairs on the backside of Lake McDonald Lodge might be better.

We are given five senses for a purpose. Don’t waste them. Especially taste. Even when it is free.

I don’t know what marketing genius came with a beer that tastes like strawberry lemonade (at least going down). Only in a First World country could such a vile creation be worthy of mass production.

Remember that while FREE is the world’s second most popular four-letter F word, it always comes with a price. Great choices come with great responsibility. Choose wisely (and better beer).

I learned that everyone wants to be the GOAT. Yet few truly understand how great they are individually in the everyday world.

In recent years, we have heard about the Greatest of All Time, the GOAT—the most perfect person at some impossible physical, mental, or incredible skill that we must admire and praise.

We all secretly wish to be this person, in some small part, or even a sliver, for whatever reason: money, fame, status, Instagram likes.

But real life is … more like just being a regular goat that hates springtime in the Montana Rockies. Sure, some GOAT moments might be buried under all that wet fur. But no other animal has hooves with two toes that spread wide for balance, rough pads for grip, and dewclaws to prevent slipping on steep terrain. Bonus: NO natural predators!

Now, which GOAT is livin’ the better life?

I learned that there is nothing wrong with taking another person’s path to save sweat. Just remember, the easy way seldom gets you where you want to go. Know when to break out.

We all find ourselves in the ruts of life from time to time. It’s easier to keep following them than to try and climb out, even when they steer us away from where we want to go. Staying true to yourself and your personal goals is one of the hardest things to do in life. Next to quitting heroin, or so I’ve heard.

I learned why it is so hard to love my fellow man. Because at least two of the 8 billion people on the Planet Earth are A-holes.

The hardest thing about hiking in Glacier Park is returning to the parking lot trailhead. You inhale all of the beauty, serenity, solitude, and appreciation for the world around you, only to have all those good vibes quashed by the human sea of diestrus. Like when I came off climbing Swiftcurrent Peak and two men (I assume) decided to piss on the side of my truck versus use a nearby restroom.

Humans are so hard to love, and this is why we can’t have nice things. But Mother Glacier whispers in my ear: It was only two – give the other billions a chance. Begrudgingly, I acquiesce.

I learned there are no participation trophies for just showing up in life. Unless you vomit. And do it with style. And get it posted on YouTube.

Participation tokens and pseudo gifts based on vague milestones and goals have become the norm. We are in the age of acknowledgment and acceptance of all.

Growing up Gen X, you either won or lost, and you definitely got bullied (in person) along the way. Actions = Consequences. We lived in the FAFO Montra.

This made the Beargrass Beer Mile the ultimate personification of a Throwback Thursday, both in symbolism and mindset. It was centered around the camaraderie of the spirit, of pushing each other up. Of unity, bonding, and feeling the raw power of team and commitment, as that surge of energy electrifies senses left dormant for generations.

Except for Skippy. Not all stars are meant to shine.

I learned that just because you can’t see anything from the summit, it doesn’t make the effort and reward less.

Of course it does. Everyone knows it sucks when you hump 4000 feet up, and a cloud sits on you while the wind blows your sweat into ice crystals. But let’s take a step back to the philosophical.

Without the visual reward of the summit, you are forced to look at the journey. Or what you would have otherwise forgotten. The color of the rock. Shape of the ice crystals. The company you kept and the conversation you had.

Focus on the snippets of views you were given and those magical moments otherwise lost. What would have been a narrow pinnacle of success has become an entire mountain of memories.

I learned that some people should not use sunblock. They should just wear more clothes. For everyone’s sake. Clean Up on Aisle 2.

I’m sorry, you have no idea how hard it is to get sunblock off the seat backs of a Red Bus. I hear some Jammers use vinegar, but then your bus smells like a dog that just got cleaned after being sprayed by a skunk.

But if you have to slather up your hammocks and foreparts this much for a three-hour tour, you shouldn’t be in a Red Bus. We have many very nice, covered, shaded boat tours in Glacier Park.

I learned that it only takes two to make a team, and with that, you can change the world.

This is kind of a global statement, but in my third year as a Red Bus driver, I had never seen this kind of unity among the Jammers. It was unexpected, and I enjoyed it. While it is true that everyone felt the ebb and flow of the draining demands from a hectic tour schedule, there was always that helping hand—even if you were the last bus in for the night. I find that rare in such a seasonal setting, if not borderline magical.

I learned that when Glacier Park gives, she gives in a big way. Don’t ask questions. Just accept it.

Maybe Beargrass is a special place on the fringes of Glacier Park. Or maybe Nature adores the Toyota Camry for being the best-selling family sedan for ten years in a row. Again, don’t ask. Just accept.

I learned that when Glacier Park takes, it will be more than you have. Don’t ask questions. Just accept it.

This is what a couple of thousand dollars of hail damage looks like on my 2003 Ram 1500. Stored inside and incredibly well maintained for twenty years, it was hard to believe a random hail storm almost totaled it. Again, don’t ask. Just accept.

I learned that a closed door can lead you to another world. A world of Nature. Beauty. Love. And a monster named Randall.

I had this whole Monsters Inc. thing that I wanted to do with Scully and Boo and the floating nightmare doors, but the stuff I wanted to use was all licensed with watermarks. So let’s try again.

I learned that a closed door can stop you from dying. Especially when they are locked from the inside. And are made out of steel. And have the image of a cross from the Knights Templar on the front.

Doors are boundaries that must be tested. Think of them as a ‘No’ in a tone that doesn’t resonate danger, but there could be (remember FAFO).

Life gets fun when you mentally override a hard ‘No’ like closed steel doors. It can be exciting to take all your life experiences and knowledge and flip the coin (if you win the toss).

Yeah. I climbed up over the top. After all, it’s just a door.

I learned that adversity is what you make of it. It’s either the worst moment in your life or another story to tell once you get the feeling back in your fingers and lips.

This was unbelievable luck. I traded for this tour. It was like pulling out a jar of misery, spreading it on a dog turd cracker, and taking a big sweaty bite with a smile.

But then you find that person who can turn adversity into adventure. Adventure into humor. Humor into camaraderie. And now I have my best memory of the last 40 years experiencing Glacier Park. I think people suck in general. But it as amazing how adversity can bring out the best in the human spirit. (Thanks Mel :-)).

I learned that when a four-legged creature stands up on two legs and growls in your general direction, they are just saying hello. Hang out and enjoy their company.

I’ve been bad-mouthing marmots for several years now since my binoculars were stolen. But that temperament is starting to wane, especially after my trip to Divide Pass. I was there for a few hours while waiting for Mitch to summit Mt James.

During that time, I saw the other side of these little wooly creatures—their interactions and how they cared for each other. It was time to make amends. I made my peace, and my soul feels lighter.

I learned that when a four-legged creature does not stand up or growl in your general direction, it means they just haven’t seen you yet. Retreat. Faster.

I have had a very healthy fear of bears ever since I first visited Glacier Park in 1985 to work at Swiftcurrent. And this is why. There were a total of four grizzlies harvesting moths hidden in the rocks—a hasty retreat down the mountain to the car. You never want to get up and personal with Four Bears Foraging (my future Polka band name).

I learned that if you combine Moses and GB Grinnell into one person, you might get this.

What a great two-for-one. Wouldn’t it be great if someone not only gave us the Five Commandments (the easy ones) but also created Glacier Park at the same time? It would make my tour commentary so much easier. All Mitch needed was a crazy mustache and a burning bush. And this is how GoatBoy punched his first-class ticket to Hell.

I learned you have to sometimes look very hard to see what no one else sees. And squint. And it will still be blurry.

It could be a better picture, but you get the idea. It’s not about hiking miles or climbing peaks. It’s about seeing the things you would typically fly right by. That’s why I love to hike on stormy days with no views. It makes me connect with the moments immediately around me. And makes my camera fog.

I learned that while life is like a photo album of experiences and moments, it must also have a voice. An anthem that will make your heart sing.

Spending time with Mitch this summer was great. I wanted him to have the experiences like I did back in the 1980s. The seasonal job, the hiking, and the people. All of the core things that make us who we become. Of course, living with a parent sucks, but I stayed in the background as much as I could.

And when I heard the soundtrack he put to life, in a place I so love, I was happy. And sad he must leave. Every bird must find their song. There is a time when all must follow the sun and seek.

I learned it feels good to laugh at stupid things. No matter how meaningless or immature. With a touch of profanity.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. All this hype about people building cairns (stone stacks) in national parks for social media, hurting the environment. Even though mankind has been using cairns since our hunter gatherer days for route finding. Just not this one.

Mitch and I had a one-take improv moment on Heavy Runner. We mocked social media and got to be middle schoolers for a few moments. Life is empty without laughter. Take what you can get when you can.

I learned it is not about where you are from. Or even where you are going. It is simply being the best ‘you’ wherever your travels land you.

Seasonal work always starts with the ‘where are you from’ question. This question is asked with caution and care because every place, from California to Kazakhstan, has a negative stereotype.

I found that with seasonal work, you learn that it is not about a person’s origin or destination. It’s about knowing them in the here and now, face to face, without personal media screens to hide behind.

I won’t get into the whole technology that was meant to bring people together now keeps them apart thing. However, the real lesson I learned from this one was to enjoy experiencing genuine people in a place where pretenses and social facades fall away. Where people are happy being the best version of themselves and do so with no regrets.

Bonus: If you don’t like someone, they are gone in a couple of months! Bummer: If you really, really, really don’t like someone, they come back in a year. Yes, you know who you are.

You did it. For those of you who made it to the end, Huzzah! If you had that kind of commitment in school, who knows where you would be today (other than out of your parent’s basement)?

Thank you. You have made Yoda and Goatboy quite proud. Always Do.

Now, it’s time to ready the Delica for Glacier 2025! GBout!