Biking Glacier Park No Magic Here

Abandoned Ranger's Cabin
In The Rain Under My Space Blanket
June 12

The biking wasn't bad; the sun was shining and the mountains were
beautiful, even if dark clouds covered their peaks. I was biking along
Lake McDonald in the midst of an incredibly thick forest when it
started to rain. This was not Yellowstone where magical spots could be
found everywhere. No, this was Glacier, where if there was a clearing
it was filled with pointy, jagged rocks. With the rain coming down, I
was intent on finding a place to camp. I wasn't picky; even so, I
still could not find a place to erect my lean-two. When I came to a
boarded up ranger cabin, I took advantage of the situation. I used the
side of the cabin to secure one end of my space blanket and tied the
other ends to a tree and a stump. Underneath the blanket it was dry,
but rain was falling all around me. It was coming off the cabin roof,
making it seem like it was raining twice as hard as it really was. It
was not a pretty sight, but it worked. However, I went to bed wet, and
I woke up wet.

I put in a miserable night and it was still raining in the morning.
Yesterday had been cold (there's still snow on the ground up here),
and today was even colder. Trying not to pander to my misery, I went
about the business of making breakfast. The fire warmed me a little
(I'm getting better at building a rain fire), but before I got around
to eating my biscuits, oatmeal and raisins, two rangers pulled up in
their jeep and made me put out my fire. These guys were obviously
upset that I chose to camp in an undesignated area. They could have
given me a ticket. I guess the sight of a wet bicycler putting out his
breakfast fire in the rain softened them (one of them) up just enough
to let me go. I was told I had to leave, and the obstinate one said in
a mean and gruff voice, "Camp in the campgrounds next time."

My breakfast was already cooked, so I got to eat a hot meal before I
headed off into the rain. Just before I left, a camper pulled in the
driveway of the cabin and parked. I guess it was time for a break
because I watched as the driver, with a hot cup of coffee in his hand,
moved to a table where the other occupants were sitting. I immediately
disliked those people sitting in their travel home. Those lavish
monstrosities were everywhere, people riding in their $50,000 houses
on wheels, "roughing it" throughout the wilderness areas of this
country. When I thought about all the bad weather I had to endure, I
became very angry. Then, with a change of heart, I began to think I
was the ass. After all, I was the one who rode his bike through
pouring rains and freezing temperatures. I subjected myself to this
kind of physical torture. Who's fault was that anyway?