Snow Day at Logan Pass. Origin of the Triumphant Three.

Original Date: 8/28/24

There was a Jammer Red Bus viral video in Glacier Park last summer. And how could GoatBoy have missed it? How could GoatBoy not comment on it? Better late than never!

When I got back to my ‘other’ seasonal job this fall (driving a school bus for nine months, winning the hearts and minds of tomorrow), the big buzz at the Bus Barn was that brave Glacier Park Red Bus driver who survived abandonment and near death in an August blizzard at Logan Pass.

I can’t imagine facing such fear (be it of rust, or fire, or lack of courage). It must have been terrifying, so alone. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!

This makes me think back to the expeditions of my favorite polar explorer, Ernest Shackleton. He was an incredible leader who fearlessly led his men through unimaginable hardship and suffering.

But one thing Shackleton never did was leave a man behind. This story, a very personal tale, is about those who were left behind in that summer blizzard at Logan Pass.

Let’s dial back the narrative. All of this was my fault. I traded with another driver for this group tour to share one more Glacier moment with my son before I left for the season (and Mel, whom I totally underestimated until this trip).

We knew the day was doomed. This was the worst tour a Red Bus Driver could take. We have to deadhead (drive empty) from the East Side all the way to Apgar Village. It rained and sleeted the entire way.

Then, pick up three Red Bus loads of EDUcational group tour folks for the one-way return across Going to the Sun Road all the way up to Many Glacier Hotel.

Of course, when we spun out a mile West of Logan Pass, Mitch called in on the satellite phone. At that point, we were informed the Pass had already been closed for a full 45 minutes.

Mitch was the lead driver. And I was proud of how he handled it. On one hand, we would do anything to keep our Red Buses safe. On the other hand, we really wanted to distance ourselves from the passengers they held. 🙂 But that’s part of being a Jammer. In other words, suck it up, buttercup. It’s going to be a long ride.

But there was so much uncertainty. We were told to turn around if we thought we could “safely.” But we were a team of three, and collectively, we did not feel safe doing so (nor did I secretly want to take Hwy 2 home with these people). And so the suffering began. It was so wet. It was so cold.

This was when everyone learned in my Red Bus (94) that it was ‘partially’ refurbished. Not so much that they cared about the remanufactured 5.4 or the remanufactured four-speed transmission. They quickly realized there was basically no heater other than the windshield defrost. And the top leaked from every seam from dry rot.

And guess what Mel did? She refused to turn on the heaters in her bus (front, mid, and rear) for her EDUcational guests. Why? Out of support for me! She called it Solidarity. Yeah. I don’t think she knew how powerful that word can be (at least in Poland).

On this day, on these mountain slopes, the cry for Solidarity rang out. And it was heard by the Triumphant Three. The forever struggling Red Bus working-class proletariat peasant finally found the voice to tell, no DEMAND, to be recognized as equal to supercilious elitist EDUcational tour bourgeoisie.

The mountains were trying to tell us something today. We were stranded as Brother in Arms, forged in the ice and snow with an eternal unity and bond that no force of any world or universe could sever (except the Marvel Universe; they can **** up anything).

Then my lips started turning blue, and I really got the shivers, so I jumped back in my Red Bus with my guests. It wasn’t that bad, but these people didn’t know that. Nor had they picked up on the fact that I stuttered (EDUcational tours hear you, but never listen). That’s when it got funny.

You are trapped on a steep mountain road in the snow. The bus can slide off the cliff at any time. Your only hope is this old guy behind the wheel, who is having a hypothermic seizure and can’t talk as he shakes himself to sure death. They started throwing at me hand warmers, hats, sweaters, gloves, etc. I just sat content with the tiniest of grins and enjoyed the throes of my mock death.

They threw at me everything but money, which, oddly enough, is the one thing that could have warmed my heart enough to save their sorry souls. It felt so good not being the usual EDUcational tour-donkey, relentlessly beaten for commentary they don’t necessarily want but feel they are owed.

But then some guy in the back seats remembered his Army Ranger training. He started to tell everyone to strip me down naked, and he would climb into a sleeping bag with me. That’s when the NPS arrived to save the day and get us that last half mile to Logan Pass. But what would that method be? Just who was getting saved here?

At the Pass, the NPS shuttled all our EDUcational guests in pickup trucks and left the drivers… to wait it out. Hmmmm. One of the officials in charge told the Triumphant Three directly that the NPS was more comfortable with us driving alone without guests because if we went off the road, only the drivers (us) would die.

It is always good to know where you are in the pecking order of life. In the end, the NPS saved people who didn’t need to be saved, and the Triumphant Three did not have to give commentary on topics people did not care about. And the guy who wanted to get naked with me in a sleeping bag slipped me a $20. But why do I feel like that could have been a $100?

When it comes to experiencing adversity and misery firsthand (especially shared), makes a storyteller out of all of us. With so many layers of angst and joy, this blizzard in August gave our guests that day and us drivers alike the most extraordinary personal canvas upon which to paint our tale of woe (with a wink of whimsy).

Experiences are meant to be shared. Some are more colorful than others, but that is why we are given a voice. Not to sing alone, but to find our chorus.

And yes, I think the snow penis was cheap and unimaginative.

GoatBoy out. But thinking of Bob Ross. RIP 🙂