Bittersweet, but mostly sweet

For me, the most surprising thing about our trip to Glacier National Park was how the same it was. The tricky thing about revisiting something from my past that I'm still very fond of is that I tend to romanticize and idealize it, so in the back of my mind it occurred to me that the reality of it might not live up to my expectations. But Glacier was exactly as fantastic as I remember. The Going-to-the-Sun Road was still the most jaw-dropping beautiful 50 miles of road I've ever driven and the pastries at the Polebridge Mercantile are just as fluffy, flaky and satisfying as I remember. On the trail I felt the same overwhelming urge to explore until I'd been everywhere and seen everything (and at the same time taking comfort in the knowledge that there will always be more hiking than I can do). The atmosphere in the lobby of Lake McDonald Lodge was the same intense serenity. And no matter how well-behaved they were while working, I could also tell that the employees, though the faces had changed, were still free-spirited wild kids.

Dana was also still there, just like I knew he would be, and he looked just as I remembered, except I think he's younger than I had supposed. Five years ago, when I worked in the kitchen at Lake McDonald Lodge, Dana was in his 17th season there. When I first met him, I thought that maybe he was a bit stupid; he didn't say much and I often saw him just sitting in the lobby, observing the people or staring at nothing in particular. Sometimes he would talk about all the hikes he'd done in the park, which at the time I doubted, because I only ever saw him working, in the employee dining room or sitting in the lobby.


One evening in 2006 I was sitting near the fireplace amongst the hotel guests, and Dana and another employee were sitting nearby. It was silent except for the crackling fire as Dana began to converse with the other employee. His voice was low and quiet, as always, but in the silence he was certainly heard by all. He began telling of grizzly encounters within the park. As he spoke, the guests watched the fire, but with their ears they hung on his words. He told of a man who went missing while hiking and all they ever found of him were his boots-- with his feet still in them. At this point some of the guests shifted in their seats. I decided Dana might be more clever than I had thought.

Another time my roommate and I ate in the dining room, just to see what it was like on the other side of the kitchen doors, and Dana waited on us. As a waiter he was exquisite. He was reserved but warm, courteous and on the ball-- a real professional. He was a born-waiter and long-time seasonal worker. In the winter he goes to Arizona, and in the summer it's always Lake McDonald. For a kid in his 20s, this kind of life feels nomadic and exciting, but for Dana I imagine it's routine and comforting. I now think that Dana spends a lot of time just sitting in the lobby probably because, while his younger counterparts are in a hurry to get out and live it up, he's comfortable with being still. I've always thought Dana was a fascinating person.

Of course, not everything was the same this time at Glacier. Last time I would go the the employee dining room to eat lunch and check my mail slot, and nearly every day I would find a hand-written letter from David. This time David was there hiking the trails with me (and thank the Lord that I don't have to eat the food from the employee dining room anymore). This time I also found out what it was like to really be on the other side of the kitchen doors. Outside of the lodge I didn't think about it at all, but while visiting the lodge, I was keenly aware that I wasn't part of the employee community. I'm still young enough (and Glacier-savvy enough, I like to think) that several employees asked me if I worked at the park, but generally they saw me as just another tourist, a passing face. In the stores and restaurants they were polite to me, if not slightly disinterested, and it made me a little sad.

In a way I wish I was in their shoes, but in another way I'm glad I'm not. Either way, I know that where I am and what I'm doing now is what's best for me (but David told me, not sure how serious he was, if he ever found himself out of a job, he would consider seasonal work, and that makes me happy!) Whether or not I ever return to Glacier in that capacity, there are far too many trails I haven't seen to think that I won't be returning at all!