Our Sweet Avalanche

Through out this entire ordeal of forest fire and evacuations one place is always on our minds. Pamela and I don't speak of it very often because the subject usually ends up with one or both of us in tears. Memories are bitter sweet because we don't know what condition it is in. Fears and concerns are real every time we look at a fire update. That place is our campground, Avalanche.

We have known Avalanche ever since we came to Glacier National Park. Our good friend, Jane, had been the Campground Host (CGH) there for several years. We always thought it would be neat to work at Avalanche to see what we thought, but we didn't want to risk losing our place at Sprague Creek. We finally got our chance this years and quickly fell in love.

Avalanche isn't really a place for first-timer CGH or for CGHs who have a problem living fairly well off-the-grid for months and being so isolated that there are many times that you just have to make do on your own. It is sixteen miles into the park from the west gate. Pamela and I spend about 70-80% of our time living off-the-grid when we're not at Glacier and we each have over 5,000 hours of experience in the park. Pamela's forte is the natural sciences and my avocation is wildlife, so we really enjoy those few days in early May when there are still patches of snow on the ground, before we open the campground and our closest neighbors are those living in the government housing outside the west entrance gate, making us the only humans within most of the 1,500 square mile park. Being really alone with our trees and rocks and animals is the highlight of every year.

Avalanche is nestled in the mountains about five miles beyond
the end of the lake.

The CGH site at Avalanche does have water and we dump into a make-shift cover over the septic system. Our water actually comes from a spring flowing from the side of Mount Cannon which we see from our campsite. It is wonderful water and the man in charge of maintaining the totally gravity fed system really hates that he is required by law to put a minimal amount of chemicals in the water. Mount Cannon is an 8,700 foot filter. There is no electricity, nor is there telephone, internet, TV or public radio. Our boss' boss' boss was gracious enough to get us a satelite phone this year. Between the trees, mountains and latitude it didn't work, but we appreciated the effort. We have a full one meter antenna on our handheld park radio. It works most of the time. That is our only link to the outside world. We are totally self-contained. We have two 160 watt photovoltic panels on the roof that, even being under the trees, daily recharged our two 224 amp hour AMG batteries. That more than fills our electrical needs. We don't like, or need, air conditioning and only occasionally use a microwave when it is available. Of course we don't waste our energy on a microwave. We do have a flat screen television and blueray DVD payer which we occasionally use to watch movies. Pamela would like a hair dryer but we make do. So as you can see, Avalanche was a great match for us.

Avalanche is an eighty-seven site campground divided into two loops - loop A having 53 sites and loop B having 34. A rather wide barrier of trees divides us from the Going-to-the-Sun Road on the north-west side. McDonald Creek flows just beyond the road which we can hear rushing toward the lake on spring nights. Beyond the creek is McPartland Mtn. It is one of a line of mountains that forms the northeastern side of this leg of the McDonald valley. On our north-east side we have the popular and magnificent Trail of Cedars and Avalanche Lake Trails which runs along the base of the majestic Mount Cannon and the beautiful Avalanche Creek. It too can be heard at night pounding and carving rocks like an ancient ritual. From the campground we can also see Bearhat Mountain which is just southeast of Mount Cannon. On our east southeast side in Mount Brown with its beautiful trail through the last of the temperate rain forest consisting predominantly of 4-500 year old cedars and hemlocks. Once these gigantic trees are gone they will never come back. With climate change there is just not enough moisture to grow a rain forest. The fact that this is an ancient rain forest is helping it to withstand the raging forest fire. The marvelous trees are what gives Avalanche its unique character which draws people back again and again.

McPartland Mountain

We had never paid any attention to the camping patterns of Avalanche before we worked there. I had assumed that recreation vehicles and trailers were the predominant mode of camping, and I was wrong. Our average throughout the season was about 70-75 tent campers and 10-15 RVs. (Oh, just FYI. If it has wheels it is considered an RV, therefore a person in a van or sleeping in their car is considered an RV.)

The most popular area in the campground is between site 61, the CGH site, and site 75. These are in a beautiful and open area under a heavy canopy of cedars. Because of the size and age of the trees very little grows under them. The canopy is so dense that we have seen times that it rained for over an hour before the forest floor actually got wet.

After we were forced to evacuate Avalanche we spent two nights in the Apgar Campground and then went to take care of a loop at the Fish Creek Campground. We had helped out at Fish Creek for a couple of weeks a few years ago, so we knew the campground well. Opening it didn't turn out to be a very good idea. With the growing smoke from the fire there were no campers. The only reason I tell the story is that Fish Creek was a reservation campground that had closed for the season. We were re-opening one of their loops for first-come camping. The woman in charge of Fish Creek was very concerned that nothing happen to her campground. She asked me to take a picture of locking the gate so that she would know things were as they should be when we closed it. That was our feeling toward Avalanche. When the evacuation order came we made sure that we were the ones that checked it out and ultimately locked the gate.

Mount Cannon

Pamela and I listen carefully to the fire reports and have spent many evenings at the foot of Lake McDonald watching Glacier burn. We don't need to say anything to each other. We know that we are both looking at that spot at the foot of Mount Cannon sixteen miles away and wondering if it is okay. We know that, because of the historic and environmental importance of the area, fire teams have installed a system called 'Rain for Rent' to wet and protect Avalanche Campground and the Trail of Cedars. That makes us feel better, but it doesn't take away our concern. Each day we study the topographic maps with overlay from the flyover the night before. We know that each of us is studying that small point near the top of the closure . . . . Avalanche.

We have been eating smoke for over a month. We have doggedly stayed and worked wherever the park needs us. Most of this is because we are dedicated members of the team, but a lot of it is because we don't want to leave before we know the fate of our sweet Avalanche.

We will return to Avalanche next season no matter what happens. If nothing else we will be able to watch new life nestled among our dear friends Cannon, Bearhat, Brown and McPartland. We hope beyond hope that the wonderful rainforest will still be there. If not, we will be there to carry on its memory.

Avalanche, we may not be able to see you before we must leave, but we live in the hopes that it will rain and snow enough before we go that we can leave you with some confidence that you are tucked into a blanket of snow, safe until the spring.