We packed up, on a Monday afternoon, for our first trip to Jake’s family cabin near Trout Creek, and brought the kids. These teens might seem doom and gloom when living in their rooms, but escaping to the countryside, where their parents were married many moons ago, reveals their fun side of swimming, fishing, sitting by the fire, playing board games (Oh Gnome You Don’t), and kayaking, etc.

I spent a few afternoons reading on the porch and watching the hummingbirds eat and the Yellowish flycatchers nesting some eggs. I went paddleboarding when the wind would allow and Caleb fell in and climbed out on another dock. I did a puzzle and Jessi brought the dogs out for a day. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the old guy (Rufus) run and he would need a week of rest to recover.

It felt great to have grass under bare feet and starry skies above, even though I wasn’t the one waiting up to see them. There’s a dirt path near a ranger’s station where you can see the guys training while some deer watch and others run like they’re being chased. Our Bayliner boat is stashed in the trees in a currently non-working condition, so Caleb will charge the battery and have a look. I’d almost forgotten we owned a watercraft.

I wonder if it will make it to Florida with us or if we will sell it to a nearby cabin. We got lucky having a driveway large enough to store it when we lived in California. The Sunshine State believes that boats belong on the water or stacked in storage for the monthly rent fee of an apartment in Kansas (500 sq. ft.) or Ohio (1000 sq. ft.). The tarp has been torn by the weather, so the shade is appreciated on the interior.

There’s a train track on the other side of the water and the engineer only has to honk here for passing wildlife. There’s a boat ramp down the road, which is helpful since Sam caught the only decent fish within a mile of the cabin’s dock. The kids invite us to play a game: hammer nails into a log with the claw side, in turn, until someone gets theirs in. Lyra has luck smashing hers sideways. We stay another night, our fourth, and leave early before the next guests arrive.

Saturday afternoon we walk with Jake through the open-air market stalls selling huckleberries for $120/lb. and tree bark vases that a woman collects after the wood has rotted out of the center. There are international carbs, a clown miming on the stairs, and an author signing of Aligning the Glacier’s Ghost. We will ask each other questions from the deck of Mind the Gap, a card game that spans from Boomer to Gen Z, when we get home.

On Sunday afternoon we attended a local baseball game, the PaddleHeads vs the Voyagers, without Sam. There was entertainment between each inning, kids selling raffle tickets in their uniforms, and lots of dancing by Jake to get a shirt (very white and XL). We get some Mountain Berry Bowls to tide us over while Jake bakes two rhubarb pies (one custard, one apple) and three galettes (one red tomato, one yellow, one with both).

Another afternoon, this one on Tuesday, we drive to Glacier National Park as it starts to rain. The gate has timed entry between 7a and 3p. It seems more cars are leaving as we park to hike near Lincoln Lake. I’d forgotten how much water is here as we usually come in winter when the Going-to-the-Sun Road is closed. The fog rolls in thick enough between the rock wall and the cliff that I don’t dare take a picture again until we’re on the other side of it.

Our campsite for the evening has decided to ban tent and cowboy camping due to high bear frequency and a bed for the night starts at $240, so car camping it is. We’re able to put everything in the front seat but even I don’t fit in the backseat; I can imagine Caleb’s level of discomfort. I’ll read hunched over with the light that’s left and then curl up and tuck in for sleep like a lopsided piece of luggage.

I’m grateful for the early morning light as we make our way back across the park, though many have risen before us. There is intermittent fog rising from the valley but also quickly disappearing parking availability (not all in designated spots) as a line of cars makes their way east. The sunrise is beautiful, this place is magical, and the weather is constantly changing. We left our rain gear in Missoula, forgetting that the only thing we weren’t prepared for was hail.

Luckily, there is none here, but some trail friends were treated with a shower of icy stones in the Sierras. (Yes, I’m still tracking their PCT progress daily) Returning over the pass, we are met with many a car that can’t seem to stay in their lane. People are walking on the edge of the road, causing an increase in the erosion that leads to landslides in these types of terrain. We still manage to find a beach to ourselves. 

The line at the visitor center looks like a familiar sight in Disney, as these tourists wait for the shuttle, but with as much gear as we packed for a week. Perhaps many of them will be staying in the backcountry but the herds of kids say otherwise. A woman wants to rent bear spray, which I didn’t even know was an option, but is definitely a money-making opportunity. The gate is even worse as we pass miles of vehicles waiting to get in, with at least 300 cars allowed per two-hour window.

Thursday, we visit the Butterfly House and Insectarium, which has ants, spiders, walking sticks, and a variety of roaches, some that you can hold, but not the touchy, tantalizing tarantula. Outside there are at least 20 varieties of now-winged caterpillars and moths, such as the Attacus atlas, one of the largest in the world. We’re asked to watch our step so we don’t squish the button quail running around, adorable in their many colors.

We got to watch an employee release some fresh hatches and view some struggling to escape the cocoon – all part of their life cycle. My favorite is the Dead Leaf for its remarkable camouflage. This house doesn’t have a license for all the life stages, so they buy butterflies from farms. We stop by the free seed library for some basil and green onions among so many herbs and veggies and grab some for Jessi too.

Puddle, the guinea pig, gets time in the grass while being protected from becoming another toy for Lady. Saturday, we helped Jake and Jessi, with the kids participating, reenact their wedding and honeymoon from 20 years ago. It was great fun. While the couple went to dinner, the kids introduced us to films such as The Infernal Cauldron and Le Voyage dans La Lune from the 1900s and they tried Madeleine cookies, one of my faves.

Caleb goes to bed but the rest of us stay up to watch the storm roll in – clouds change color, lightning flashes before thunder, and then the winds (max 7mph) blow the rain onto the porch where we (the adults) stood huddled with our arms crossed for warmth while the kids got wet without a care.