Chance to see fall and shed pounds
I wanted to see fall. I wanted to see colorful leaves. I wanted to see 5 pounds drop off these thighs.
I’d been feeling lousy with too much time spent indoors, bent over paperwork. And, oh yeah, stuffing my face with various fried foods and sugary sweets. Cardio time with Billy Blanks was replaced by bake and snack time. Even the dog’s rear looked like it was widening.
Husband John, whose weight does not correspond directly to his consumption of cookies (I really don’t like him sometimes), chose the Danny On Memorial National Recreation Trail for a hike. The stop would fit into our business route through northwest Montana and we hoped the trail would have displays of seasonal color.
The hike delivered a bun-busting workout, which had me sucking eggs within the first 10 minutes. (Okay, first six.) But what made the blisters on my heels worth it all were the deep views of Whitefish Valley below and the quiet ascent to reach them.
We headed out of Whitefish, Mont. where we had stayed the night before. Large homes and condos – a modern approach to the log cabin – lined Big Mountain Road as we drove upward to the alpine resort by the same name.
Big Mountain Resort started with warming cabins built by the local ski club in the 1930s with a special permit from the Forest Service (the resort area is partially located within the Flathead National Forest).
Seeing all the houses, I began to worry if this hike was going to be too residential for me. The noise and construction going on at the resort’s base village didn’t make me think any differently. But we were there for the workout and I was wearing my “fat pants,” I reminded myself.
Almost every parking space was taken in front of a string of closed retail shops, restaurants and coffeehouses. Most of these businesses are tucked beneath tall hotels and condominiums. People seemed busy with maintenance and renovations in preparation for winter season’s opening day: Nov. 25.
Two bikers pedaled past us while we looked for visitor information. The mountain bike trails at Big Mountain are growing in popularity, but ski season is the big one. Trails are now closed to mountain bikes until next spring; hiking is still permitted until winter snow prevents it.
We picked up a free trail map at the ticket and information center. After we found out there was no trail-use fee, John loaded up our stuff in his backpack and we climbed the sandy hill to the trailhead.
A handwritten note attached to the trail sign told of a bear sighting about a quarter mile up. John retrieved bear spray from the pack to carry in hand. Luckily, he didn’t have to use it.
Instead we spotted the large gray-brown ears of a deer rising out of tall grass on the slope we were attempting to climb. The doe kept an eye on us as we trudged slowly upward, and cut into the trees before we were anywhere near her.
My spirits were lifted when I realized our chosen route to Flower Point didn’t continuously follow this hill to the top. We crossed a metal bridge and entered a thick forest, close to where the deer had vanished into the woods. The trail leveled off for awhile, but kept a steady climb.
We passed across several open meadows of aging grass and wildflowers. Skiers and snowboarders will soon carve up these slopes when everything is covered in white. For now, red and white gondolas hang motionless on cables that stretch from a summit above to the village below.
In addition to operating in the winter, gondola rides are available to hikers and bikers during the summer season, which officially closed Oct. 3.
A few pieces of summer still hung on. Purple asters and an occasional bluebell stood in sunny spots along the trail. Golden trees were scattered among blocks of green forests. Clouds moved above us throughout the day and gave us occasional, brief rain showers. We stopped for a short lunch break and enjoyed views of a neighboring hill.
We climbed higher, walking along a ledge. The ledge followed a hillside with basalt rock formations jutting out of it. A hawk soared near the tallest rocks, just beneath dark clouds. The bird cried out a lonely, familiar cry of the wilderness. (Seems I’ve heard this sound in a lot of movies to symbolize how far away from civilization a character is, foreshadowing that they’re most likely gonna be bitten by something poisonous and have a painful case of chapped lips.)
The blisters on my heels were becoming worse. I resorted to walking up the steepest parts of the trail backward to relieve the pulsing pain on the back of my feet. The views in front of and behind me were beautiful. Sometimes the clouds would lift enough to reveal Whitefish Lake in the valley, but clouds resting in the range’s highest peaks preventing us from seeing Glacier National Park.
Instead of going out on to Flower Point as planned, we turned to follow the ridge toward the Summit House. When operating, the Summit House offers food, facilities and facts about the mountain and people who played a part in its development and preservation.
The interpretive displays include information about Danny On, for whom the trail is named. A fitting memorial to an applied forest ecologist, the trail was built by his family and friends after On’s death in a 1979 skiing accident. He was also known for his nature photography.
I offered to wait at a juncture in the trail while John went on to the summit point, but he sympathized with me and my blisters. Plus, it was getting late. We started our trek back down, eventually looping back to the original trail.
Our dog Kah-less drank lots of water when we returned to the car. It had been quite a tough trail for him, too. Overall we had covered about eight miles round trip – some really steep miles.
The next day I felt better, physically and spiritually. It was good to get away from the constant influx of news, political ads and telemarketers for a cool fall afternoon outdoors. It was a quiet time to think, a time to clear my head – and, oh yeah, a time to get rid of the little guilty voice inside that says I don’t need four brownies.
Tell the little voice my blisters said to shut up.