Mother Nature and Beargrass. Beauty and the Beast.

I think it’s safe to say, between this season and the last, I’ve had some pretty bad/honest comments about the housing conditions for seasonal employees at Glacier Park.  Of course, they’re all true.  But considering Xanterra hires 750 bodies every year, it must not be that unbearable.  Right?

I recall even back in the 1980s when I was a college student working at Swiftcurrent, employees were housed in cabins that were built in the 1930s.  It was a walk to the shared bathroom/showers. The only upgrade that had been done to them over the first 50 years was removing the wood-burning stoves and installing new steel roofs (the latter the very summer I was there).   Other than a few heavy coats of lead-based paint and some volunteer trees, they are exactly the same in 2022.

At Lake McDonald in the summer of 1986, I was in what was called the Jammer Dorm (technically Snyder Hall).   That’s where most of the jammers were kept since there was room to park the Red Buses outside.   I must admit, those fellows drove hard and they really partied hard. The walls were paper thin and felt like a cheap one-story motel from the 1960s. 

It was torn down in 2010 when the new multistory dormitories were completed (which included the employee cafeteria).  Conveniently located right across the Going to the Sun Road from the horse stables. Yep.  Nothing like the smell of fresh (but earthy and natural) horse shit when eating lunch or trying to sleep with the windows open.

The fact remains that seasonal employees come and go, and generally don’t expect much for the $8 they are charged (PER DAY) for housing (with an additional charge for food).  But I’m done being a Negative Nelly.  It’s time to focus on some of the beauty. Especially for the Beargrass RV park, my stomping grounds for summer 2022.

Other than the roommate situation (which I will capture when I do my end-of-season summary in my next post), the place wasn’t that bad. After all, it had been a family-run RV Park Campground with about a dozen and a half cabins of various sizes for about 20 to 30 years.

So at one time, people were paying real money to stay at these cute little seasonal cabins.  Mostly they were situated well and easily pulled in a couple of hundred bucks a night retail come summertime. In reality, when you’re trying to make all of your money in ten short weeks, your accommodations can’t be too shabby.  Right?

When I truly reflect on the Beargrass Compound, as I like to affectionately call it, the place does command a beautiful location just outside the eastern boundary of Glacier National Park.  If I was to be a starvation wage seasonal employee at GNP,  there is no other place in the park I would honestly want to spend a summer.  Let’s shed a little love and a lot of positivity.

I LOVE the East side of Glacier.  The geology, fauna, flora, and big open skies.  There isn’t a better spot to base camp for some of the best hiking and climbing in the entire park.  BGC had all I needed to pump out the miles on the trails and make a few climbs to summits I had never been to. Centrally situated between St Mary and Babb just off the shores of Lower St Mary Lake.

Sometimes I would walk up to the Big House and hang out in the shade under the top deck (and write a few blog posts, because the internet was FANSTAIC up there). The Big House was the home of the owners of the RV/Cabins before they sold the entire property to Xanterra in late 2019. It has since been carved into rooms to house a dozen or so employees. I’m scared to venture into this Hobbit Hut. But the outside is pretty cool (literally, especially on a very hot day).

The old website is still up if you search Glacier Trailhead Cabins. But the view from the upper part of the property is what I would drink in every morning before starting my day. Pardon the power lines. I was too comfortable to move from the chair in the previous photo to get them out of frame.

Singleshot, East Flattop, that wonderful 3.5-mile ridge walk, finally ending at Napi Point. I remember clearly that wonderful 13-hour day of hiking. I did this specifically so that I could look upon that wonderful ridgeline each morning/afternoon. And mile so hard I would have little tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

If I panned a little bit farther to the left and touched the zoom button a bit, I get great views of the entrance to the St. Mary valley, and that wonderful wall of mountains. Red Eagle, Mahtotopa, and Little Chief. So many tours I have driven past in their shadows, talking nonstop of magnificent massifs. Feeling the wind tugging at my hat, as I sat behind the wheel of my vintage White Model 706 from 1936 (#94, Merritt).

But there were stormy days. Days when the sky just came down, touched the earth, and consumed it. But that’s OK. Why?

Remember what I have said so many times in this blog? Glacier is a fickle but fair mistress. When she takes, she takes BIG. But when she gives, it makes you forget the pain (well, almost).

I love the slow-moving storms. The ones that you would hear coming for a couple of hours. So massive. That growing distant black/blue entity of nature. Watch it slowly swallow the azure blue sky and sun. Witness the full power of the elements, not just growing, but on full display without shame. All it asks is to be acknowledged. Make you smile. And then be washed away in wave after wave of awe.

These incredible mountains are only free of snow for a handful of weeks every year. The weather was always threatening and always waiting. The storms of winter may sleep, but remain ready to take back what is (and shall forever be) theirs.

The sun breaks were never disappointing. I have always called them the ‘Fingers of God.’ Just seemed fitting. So much crazy weather constantly swirling in, around, and thru the Beargrass Compound.

The two-day post-storm clearing is a picture you can never paint. We had several of them. Always different. Always changing. Always more awesome than the last one. I really needed to spend more time out on the crappy little porch/deck thing on my cabin. Just sit and observed this incredible world, all at my fingertips.

I should have been capturing the stars when all of this majesty turned to the dark of night. But the St. Mary Visitor Center – Dusty Star Observatory Sky Cam says more than I could ever put into words. Nights were the true wonder in Beargrass. The strands and fingers of the Milky Way were so clear and close you could almost taste them.

Beargrass is a special place to me. And to be a Jammer Red Bus driver living at Beargrass takes it up to another level. Sure, I had a couple of mice run between my feet while sitting in the bathroom of the common kitchen in the early morning hours (because I’m a considerate roommate AND I need to check my internet news feeds). But they did not run up my leg, so no harm no foul.

Hard to say bad things about Beargrass. Although I gave it a good shot.