Day 9: Avalanche Campground, Glacier National Park, Montana
It is raining again this morning, so after a big breakfast in camp we walk the deep and dark Trail of the Cedars, made all the more mysterious today by the dense mists and dripping boughs.
When we return to camp and begin settling in, an orange ’73 Westy with Alberta plates circles a few times before wheeling into the site next to ours. We exchange a cordial wave and he and his girlfriend set about arranging their firewood and matching camp chairs emblazoned with giant Canadian maple leaves, while I remove the grill from the front of our own Westy and begin looking for ways to prevent further rodential intrusion. I center my attention on the edges of the main air intake, and carefully install alternating layers of duct tape and interwoven coils of single-strand metal wire, a sort of improvised chicken-wire mesh, followed by more duct tape.
Halfway through the job, the Canuck hollers over: “VW problems, eh?”
“Nothing I can’t solve with a bit of stovepipe wire and some duct tape.”
“Ha! Duct tape, eh?” he says skeptically.
“Sure,” I reply. “Learned it from one of your countrymen; perhaps you know Red Green?”
“Aw man, he ain’t even Canadian. He’s just a bad stereotype; makes us all look bad, ya know, eh?”
My task finally complete, I clamber aboard to find that Lorie has prepared a feast of good Wisconsin bratwurst with beans, and cold bottles of local Trout Slayer Ale. After discussing our plans for tomorrow, we retire for the evening, with one ear open for the sound of invading mice.
