Stranger Danger 9K. Why do people from Florida get a bad rep?
Original Date 7/28/24
This post could have gone one of two ways. Either I can tell you how this old guy from Florida was a passive-aggressive colossus A-hole on a recent hike. Or I can tell you about experiencing a classic climb up a peak in Glacier Park with my son. đŸ™‚
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So, as King Solomon would say, let’s split the baby. The backdrop will be the jaw-dropping glacier-high country. The narrative will be Dave spends quality time with his son, Mitch. Done in that raw and unfiltered GoatBoy way with zero regrets (and zero regard for residents of the Sunshine State). So get your oranges out, and let the travesty unfold.
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It was a great day to be in the mountains. We started off with a nice predawn launch and a primo parking spot at Logan Pass. When we returned to the tempest, we hoped to scalp it for a crisp $20. Now that Mitch is touring and getting cash tips, he has become quite fond of the $20 (and the fact that they appear arbitrarily without regard for effort).
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The boy has legs, but that comes with being about six feet tall. It felt good to watch him scrambling up the slopes against the backdrop of a fantastic Montana morning sky. We were picking the most enjoyable cliffs to work, while smiling (and panting) on every step in such a pristine place.
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Bumped into a kid coming down. Early 20’s. His name was …. Logan. As in Logan Pass. I guess his parents were seasonal park workers and split their time between Yellowstone and Glacier. The boys in the family got names from Glacier and the girls from Yellowstone. We talked longer than we should have. His story was fascinating, but I had to go. Everyone understands you’ve got to keep that heart pumping.
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It was then that I noticed someone I’ll be calling Florida Man. He was about 300 hundred feet below me and moving pretty well. He kept looking up, specifically at me. Mitch was a couple of hundred feet past me off to the right, so I knew this old boy was eyeballing ME. Weird.
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Mitch saw a mountain goat and was playing with an ‘instant’ camera. We called them by the brand name Polaroid fifty years ago. Well, what was old is now new. So, he gravitated toward the little fella to get a picture.
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At this point, Florida Man was no longer following my climbing line. He was veering off toward Mitch (on some miserable scree he could have avoided). Ah, now I get it.
I can’t tell you how many ‘climbers’ I see specifically on Reynolds that never bothered to read ANY of the MANY route descriptions. Time and time again, they expect just to follow the crowd.
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Reynolds is threaded with a million little climbing paths and a million little cairns. And if you haven’t been to the summit, the route is NOT intuitive. There is one specific gully/chute that you really need to find for the ascent, but it looks a lot worse than it is and is not as well-marked as it should be, so people miss it all the time.
And this moron was trying to draft Mitch, unaware my boy was more interested in a goat than the summit at this point.
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I thought, “Hmm, let’s just rest on a cliff and watch where this guy goes. ” But that was petty. Mitch and I were having fun. There was no room on the mountain for spite today. We’ll just do our thing at our pace and leave this stranger to do his.
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Once we clear that key gully, this a-hole is ON us, coming up fast. I assumed he’d leave us a little space and be respectful. As we traverse the summit cap on a narrow ledge, about to do the last stretch to the top, I turn around, and this guy is actually IN my footsteps, panting like a wounded bear.
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There are a lot of ways this can go. Normally, it’s a ‘hi, how are you’ and some chit-chat about sharing such a beautiful day. Maybe ‘Hey, mind if I squeeze by?’ Worse case: ‘See you at the summit, loser!’ But no. This was worse than I could have imagined.
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This old f*** says in a voice that’s not that old (only spoken by people using age as an excuse for something egregious) “AGE BEFORE BEAUTY!! Heh Heh.” and pushed past us. Yes, his pack brushed across the front of my coat. Mitch and I looked at each other. I mean, the air is thin over 9,000 feet. But not THAT thin.
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There is really nothing you can do, and I wasn’t going to let it ruin the day. We rolled up on the summit, and there was not a peep from Florida Man to either of us, which was fine by me. He was maybe 30 feet from us (small summit)—not even a glance.I just made sure he wasn’t in any of our photos and forgotten. But how do I know he was from Florida?
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Because someone new, I’ll call Canada Guy, rolled up about 20 minutes later. This dumb ass is wearing a climbing helmet and a chest harness. The helmet you could MAYBE make an excuse to wear, but the harness is worthless and only for looks (a bad look at that). Ridiculous. He immediately walked up to Florida Man, and those two strangers talked for the next 20 minutes.
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Mitch and I looked at each other. The Wing Family is obviously invisible to the human eye above 9000 feet, so I don’t know why I have feared bears when climbing at high elevations all these years.
Or, it’s just that absolute a-holes can’t see genuine people. I tried not to let them spoil our shots. Mitch took some photos and sketched.
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Florida Man is just some retired guy traveling around the country, and everything was a humble brag on how such a ‘low lander’ could climb so high.
Canada Guy pretty much said how crappy the peaks of Glacier were compared to Banff (his ‘backyard’). But since Banff was on fire, he was slumming it in GNP. And he proudly admitted to even dodging GNP’s entrance/use fees because he came in early and camped illegally at a pullout.
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But this is where Karma kicks in. Most of their conversation was about….. Where can they climb IN the Park during their respective stays? Yeah, I’m only 25 feet from these knuckleheads and treated as persona non grata.
Normally I’d be all over a conversation like that. Maybe Florida Man should not have tried to nudge me off a cliff. Maybe Canada Guy should have shown our Park (and our country) a little more respect. Then maybe GoatBoy would have opened his mouth.
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I quietly smiled and listened to their laments. My knowledge of climbing this Park would have made their tiny little heads and narrow little minds explode.
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I could have filled their time in Glacier to the brim with trails, peaks, wildlife, and history. I could have crafted an adventure in the Park they would never forget and talk about until their dying days.
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Or, I could be like Ayn Rand. And her character John Galt in the epic tome Atlas Shrugged. A modern-day Prometheus who simply changed his mind. Nope. These fellows were not worthy of such a gift. I’m not giving them fire.
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It didn’t matter if we were above or below 9000 feet. It is not just about respecting the mountains. It is about respecting who you meet there. And understanding that all are drawn for the same core reasons. Personal challenge. Enjoyment of elevation. Above all, sharing with the like-minded.
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And since you made it to the end of this different kind of post, here is one of my favorite short videos. Just hearing the hooves on the rock was amazing. And a totally different vibe when you are in the fall path if this 250-pound beast slips and tumbles.
GoatBoy out!