A Walk on the Wild Side: Taking a tour below the Lake McD Poverty Line.

Okay. I’ve been doing this seasonal job at Glacier National Park for a few summers. I’ve seen the different types of lodging available to seasonal employees at several properties. There is quite a bit of diversity out there.

I fondly remember the Home Depot garden shed where I had to stay in the first summer as a shuttle driver. It was a cross between the solitary confinement sweat box from Cool Hand Luke.

And the Devils Island penial colony from Papillon.

During my pre-training for Red Bus driving last summer, I got to experience a dorm room at Lake McDonald that I considered pretty plush. Lots of storage and places to hang clothes. I even had a built-in desk where I could blog my heart out. Having a roommate wasn’t so bad. Of course, that is singular. Roommate.

I was supposed to stay in a two-bed cabin in Beargrass for the summer. I got it for one night and then was moved into my full-time domicile, which was pretty decent. Until they tried to squeeze up to four grown-ass men into a place that would only hold three on a good day, finding a place to hang up those white Jammer shirts we had to wear was tough. Even though we ended up with ‘only’ three guys, it was still crowded, especially when one turned out to be a real d-bag and became legendary as the only Jammer who refused to give any commentary during his tours.

But where they have me staying now really takes the cake. With some luck, I’m only spending about seven nights in this hovel for training before moving on. Any more than that, and I would either sleep in my truck, set up a tent, or quit. At least, that’s what I would have to tell the property manager to try and bully myself into something reasonable.

Lake McDonald Lodge (originally the Lewis Glacier Hotel) was built in 1913 after they tore down most of the prior hotels on this site. But they kept all the little cabins surrounding the main lodge. Initially, they were sold by the night to guests. In post-WWII times, many were converted to employee housing as they were no longer fit for human habitation.

When I worked here in 1986, I was in a 1950s ten-room dorm that was more of a third-world one-story opium den and commune.

That building has since been razed and is now an employee parking lot. But back then, it was explicitly for Jammers who would go from hotel to hotel and grab an open bed for the night.

For reasons unknown, my roommate and I were assigned to live there full-time. I was always out on backpacks and climbing, but he said the walls rocked every night.

So, where did they put me this year? In what is called the Girls One ‘cabin’ dormitory complex. Which, oddly enough, was girls-only housing back in my day 35 years ago. They had a couple of similar set-ups for the guys, which I never stayed in and seldom visited friends in.

But I have an excellent post from that summer of 1986, with an audio of the guys I climbed with. It’s a two-minute clip of what I can only refer to as a bottle-breaking party.

This originated as two separate cabins built about 1910. Each side has two rooms. You walk into one room from the main door, and a small door goes off to the second room. Each room is about the length of a twin bed, so 8’x8′. Or the length and width of a common 2×4.

These have been retrofitted to have bunks in each of them to hold a total of four people per cabin. You add a couple of dressers and have a tiny galley-like hallway to climb in and out of bed and walk through the doors. The beds cover the windows and any closet space. How this passes any fire code is beyond belief. But wait, it gets better.

So, sometime after WWII, the NPS allowed some modifications to be made. This was part of Mission 66, which ran from 1956 to 1966—a massive upgrade and capital improvement program. The NPS was trying to modernize all national parks.

I’m assuming these cabins were not on foundations or aligned. So, a horrible cinderblock foundation was laid. The open space between the cabin was slab-poured and filled in. And that is where they retrofitted a bathroom that would be common to both prior stand-alone cabins.

The plumbing tells the entire story. There are a lot of galvanized pipes that are 70 years old and give you a nice rusty feel after a shower. A lot of copper spliced in that, I’m sure, was added in the late 1960s when pipes failed and froze. Windows that have been painted closed for decades. Fans that have not turned since the first Bush administration. Heaters are a cruel joke because you know if they did work, they would electrocute you in the shower.

The nice part is they didn’t even bother to remove the exterior cabin shingle siding or roof gables when the bathroom was added to make one continuous building. It does give you that nice outdoor campy vibe.

A one-eye carpenter built the shower and bathroom stalls on a three-day drinking binge. And naturally, with the lack of ventilation, every door is warped, won’t close, and has a pleasant scent of rot and decay.

Did I mention they don’t make shower flip-flops thick enough to keep the shower fungi at bay? But then again, I’m a fun guy myself.

Pictures don’t do this spacious palace justice. That would require five gallons of gasoline and a match. I’m just wondering if you noticed the REAL problem here. Other than trying to fit eight grown people into less square footage than a federal prisoner is allocated?

The ****** doors. If you are in a room with the front door, you must walk through the other room for the bathroom. And through the personal belongings of whoever is in that room. Which will be scattered like the debris field of the Titanic.

If you are next to the bathroom, you’ve got to walk through the other room to enter and leave. Add to that bunk beds. Now you have someone climbing up and down, then fumbling through doors.

Most windows don’t open, so blocking them off is okay. I know the guy on the other side locked himself out, so he climbed through the lower half of his window directly into bed. So, something is to be said for the efficiency of small, cramped spaces.

This would make a great reality show that you could loosely base on the game Chutes and Ladders. You have no idea what rabbit hole you’ll descend whenever you climb a bed or enter a door or window. Or where in the space-time continuum you will be. Last night, I had to pee at 2 a.m. and walked right into the French Revolution. You are holding a caveman’s club. Weird.

So, the bottom bunk guys have a place to put their stuff (under). Top bunk guys, nada. There is no place to hang anything because the bunks go into what should be closet rod space.

You can’t leave anything on the floor, or no one can exit the front door or the bathroom. And what happens when the lights go out at night? Well, Vin Diesel said it best.

Yeah, this place is a total nightmare. In 1986, these things only had four employees, which was tolerable. But I don’t understand how anyone could accept living like this for three months.

Now true, we Jammers and shuttle drivers in training are passing through and will transition out (me after one week, the new guys/gals after THREE weeks). But, within the next month, people will be here full-time for the entire season.

I couldn’t do it. There is no sleep because anytime anyone moves, you will hear it. Every snore. Every fart. And every little giggle from the guy in the next room who stays up until 1 a.m., streaming something on his phone. You can only hope he’s watching an old Seinfeld episode and NOT bingeing midget porn.

You don’t need to put your belongings (let alone secure them). There is no privacy. There is more space for a chair. Or a desk. Or an excellent strong supporting roof beam to hang a noose from.

There is nothing that might make this space productive for EIGHT grown adults. I have no idea how any human being in a first-world country would consider this acceptable employee housing.

And that’s why I am biding my time until I can complete my training. And when people ask me why I am always on my computer in the employee cafeteria whenever I’m not out hiking, I just smile. And slowly mouth the words ‘Girls One.’ They nod in painful, quiet understanding.

GoatBoy out!