Inside The Storm On Chief Mountain

Mountain Camping
July 8, `72


Every evening Todd and I joined the Powers family for dinner and I
always sat at one end of the table while Tom, the patriarch, sat at
the head. The table was placed in front of a picture window that
opened to a beautiful view of Chief Mountain. Chief Mountain was a
majestic mountain to behold. It wasn't the highest mountain in the
area (a little over 9000-foot), but, it's rear ascended gradually,
culminating in a flat plateau peak, which from the front, dropped
thousands of feet straight down, (the Indian Headdress effect). The
mountain was also unique in that it stood out as an elbow of the
Rockies. The north-south direction of the Rockies changed to a
northwest-northeast direction at Chief Mountain. On many occasions,
while eating dinner, Todd and I were treated to stories about ancient
buffalo skeletons and an old Indian burial ground that were all
supposed to be located on the top of Chief Mountain. Tom made it sound
like you could walk right up the backside of the mountain and reach
the top. So that was exactly what Todd and I planned to do.

Work ran out on the 5th of July. On the 6th of July, Todd and I set
out to climb Chief Mountain. It was going to be a weekend thing for
Todd. He had to get back to work, but I was going to stay on. I was on
vacation. Afterwords, I would head out for British Columbia on my
bike. Todd was a good companion, he was seventeen- years -old, but he
was a lot older in spirit. As bunkhouse mates, we became pretty good
friends. We both were on pins and needles waiting for this big
adventure to begin.

We got in Tom's truck early the next morning and rode on dirt trails,
across Indian Reservation Territory, to the Eastern edge of Glacier
Park (the front of the mountain was on the Reservation). We took our
gear from the back of the truck and started to hike into Glacier.
Immediately, mosquitoes attacked us. (Todd forgot the mosquito dope.)
We hiked long and hard just to get to where the actual climb started.
By the time we reached the part of the mountain that we could see from
Tom's window (eight thousand feet up and twenty miles away), we were
exhausted, hungry, and perplexed. It was true the incline was gradual,
but it was also a narrow band of loose and broken rocks, stretching a
thousand feet or more up to the plateau peak. Climbing up the two foot
wide ridge with nothing to hold onto, and with a drop of a thousand
feet on both sides, was not my idea of an easy climb (forget about
what Tom had said about horse drawn wagons reaching the plateau). It
was 5:00 p.m., and Todd wanted to continue. He wanted to climb to the
top and camp.

Spurred on by Todd, I started to climb but then stopped. It was just
too dangerous, and besides, from that elevation not only could I see
the fantastically beautiful sight of the whole range of Rocky Mountain
Peaks turn towards Western Canada, I could also see the very dark rain
clouds coming in from the west. I told Todd it would be stupid to
continue. He was not happy as we went back down to where "a fall,"
meant only to trip over one's foot. It's a good thing we did too. We
no sooner got down off the ridge, than the wind started in.

We were still very high on the mountain, and finding a place to put up
the tent was not easy (I bought the tent on a shopping trip to Cut
Bank). We were still on an incline, and the ground wouldn't accept the
tent stakes. Just as the storm hit, I got the tent set up and the two
of us crawled in. It was amazing how fast the sky grew dark and the
storm hit. I've never seen anything like it. Inside the tent we
hunkered down. Thunder crashed and lightning frequently lit up the
inside of the tent (for seconds at a time). We were inside the storm.
In the morning, the tent was lying on top of us. We were wet, cold,
and still hungry but glad to be alive.