travelled. My mind agonizingly por-
trayed fanciful images of what could
have been if I’d stayed in Colorado,
east of the Rockies, and not given into
the calling of the road and the “Hell-
ish” beckoning of Mad Mavis. Each
mile closer to Alaska, was yet anoth-
er mile further away from Denver.
Knowing phone reception would be
none existent once crossing over the
boarder into Canada until returning
to American soil in Alaska (using a US
phone service), I rang the girl in ques-
tion. The conversation only fuelled
my desire to return to Denver; which,
would later prove to be a fatal error of
judgment and perception.
Departing Missoula on course for
Glacier National Park in the north of
Montana, I chartered a course for the
“Going to the Sun” road (within Gla-
cier NP) to make my passage across
into Canada. The road leaving Missou-
la hugged the edge of the Snake River
for some time before gradually peel-
ing away.
“Huckleberry Pie” stalls stood by on
entry to Glacier, and regrettably I did
not stop for one. Dropping my right
hand back on the throttle, stepping
down a gear, Mavis prepared for the
assent of the “Going to the Sun” road
pass (a narrow, twisting mountain
pass).
Possibly some of the most spectac-
ular scenery either side of the roads
carriage-way on the trip thus far as
we gradually gained height. Spec-
tacular river gorges with soft falling
waterfalls some 100 metre lapses in
gravity, water droplets expelled into
the air to form a vertical stream of
mist, cascading to the rock-forms be-
low. Wild flowers having a last bloom
TRAVERSE 45
amongst the alpine grasses before the
encroaching harsh winter. Reaching
the pinnacle of the pass, Mavis took a
rest as I engulfed a sandwich prepared
by Max on my departure. Up from the
west came a howling front, gusting
winds and a menacing cloud forma-
tion. I stood atop the apex of the pass
and leaned forward into the strength-
ening gale. Snap went the Canon.
The wind kicked up ten fold while
the sun ducked for cover. Passing the
sweeping lake within Glacier, large
waves whipped up on the surface as
the wind strengthened. Trees twisted
and bent in the force of the formida-
ble winds. Reaching a campground on
the east side of the park, I stopped and
looked for a campsite.
The wind so strong, I was unable
to dismount Mavis without fear of her
toppling over. I stood at the entrance