Spring was tearing toward us. That winter's-end cabin fever. It always seems to hit Linny harder, but sunshine and longer days were kicking us back to life. Linny decided to put together a trip to Alaska with Zoe. I figured I'd hang around Portland and try to write, though I was really hoping for a sanctuary from obligations and things to do. My novel felt like it was making great progress and just needed a bit more juice.
Then, good neighbors who live above us in our vertical community asked me if I'd like to use one of their cabins on Flathead Lake a bit south of Kalispell. It was perfect. I agreed to do a bit of tidying up and new-year surveying in exchange for a solitary place to contemplate and write. I went into planning mode. It's odd, but I hadn't been alone for more than a few days in 20 years. I wondered how that would be.
Carol and Phil Gilbertson have been building their wonderful retreat on a steep shoreline south of Lakeside, which is on the main westside highway to Kalispell. There are three cabins built around family growth and a need for privacy. A great combination.
Linny and I were in Kalispell in the 1990s and stayed in a B&B on the lake when we were traveling the West with our publishing. My recollection is that I did a presentation at the Hockaday Museum in town, which was likely part of one of the state grant-funded tours Linny and I did as literary activists. We visited a whole lot of Montana—and there is one whole lot of it—that way. Libby, Kalispell, Great Falls, Butte, Whitefish, Helena, Dillon, Missoula, Bozeman, Livingston, Billings, Miles City. From literati to lariati, we knew the back roads, the bookstores, the libraries, and a lot of writers. It is so beautiful in so many places.
I jumped at the offer and started planning. Renting a car was the first thing, rather than suffering through more than 10 hours of roaring road noise and nominal comfort in our old Subaru. Next was sorting out how to move my projects there from the cloud and be able to work on them and save them back from lakeside.
I started looking closely at maps and relevant weather websites. I took a closer look at Spokane and Kalispell, since I hadn't been in either for ages. I guessed that doing a stop halfway at Spokane was reasonable sanity. That would still mean at least five hours on the road each day.
Between my kits and things the Gilbertsons sent with me, I was using the Nissen Altima's considerable space. I didn't want to use of their bulk provisions, so I had lots from our pantry. I'd located the Costco in Kallispell, about 20–30 minutes through the city. I actually didn't bother going there until four or five days in. Trollstigen was too nice to leave, especially after the long rides.
The leg of the trip to Spokane had been largely mid-day. It was hot and windy on the plateau along the Columbia and stayed that way heading NW across the Palouse, with its sensuous hills. I'd debated stopping to see my brothers going through The Dalles, but I didn't want to bump into night traffic trying to find a motel in Spokane on the Montana side of town. Again, if I'd started earlier, I could have enjoyed having dinner with a former grad student who lives in Spokane. Instead, I stopped at the last big freeway rest stop before Spokane exits started to appear. Used my phone to find large motel with a good special only a quarter mile off I-90 on the Couer d'Alene side. I found a place with ribs and a salad bar. I read for a while. Then I went to bed.
The lobby pastry and coffee service was already out when I left, so I had a cup and read the NYT on-line, then filled my roadcup and headed east. Mountains now. It was beautiful. Traffic was mellow. The weather was perfect. I had my tunes piped into the car audio and was singing my way down the road. My only concerns were driving, singing, and looking for my exit north at St Regis, up the Clark Fork River on 135. Still a lot of driving, but the views were wonderful.
So I damned near missed my exit. I was coasting fast down a long sweeping curve when I saw two things: the exit I was going to miss and a state patrol car pulling out onto the highway on my right crowding my exit. So, I'm all over my brakes. He's all over his lights and we meet at the bottom where the underpass leads north. I let him know I saw him and pulled over in a safe place. He'd already run the plates when he had me unroll the passenger-side window and hand him my ID. "What were your hurries about? First braking hard and then suddenly pulling off the exit too fast?" I suspect that if I weren't fairly old and reasonably respectable and respectful, he'd have invited me to step out of the car. I told him what I was doing. He said to be careful about speeding. I asked where I could find coffee and he pointed ahead. I rolled up the window. Then he tapped on the window. When I rolled it back down, he said, "If you're in Lakeside Friday night, there's a good pub with music. I might see you there."
By then I was getting road-weary. Nothing to be had for it but pushing on. When that got old and I needed a restroom and coffee, I stopped at a tiny diner that was pretty much as unattractive as possible. If I closed my eyes, the chicken fried steak was good.
A little later, the lake valley appeared and then the lake and I was finding my way off the highway and to the Gilbertson's magic place. I may have been getting tired of driving, but hadn't been bored during the whole trip. Boredom was still not a threat and writing fit the mood.
There was enough hard work to do to get mornings off to a good start. I bucked up small limbs that a faller had piled by the path above the dock. I dug the bigger pieces out of the brush where they'd been tossed and added firewood sculptures to the site. There were only two other people showing themselves on the road. I walked it quite a few times.
The lake's own weather system makes it an oasis in the Rockies. It was warm enough to sit outside and read until dark and write until tired almost every day. The light is wonderful, with the sun rising over jagged peaks and coloring the lake between.
A year later, Linny and I both went there for a week. A few more photos are in that album in Random Places.
