Little resort town of Bigfork charming wet or dry
Rain poured steadily over Montana’s Flathead Valley as we drank our morning coffee in the warmth of our hotel room.
Maybe my trip planning wasn’t exactly the best. I’d Web-surfed up hiking trails and good places to eat in Bigfork, but I didn’t check the weather report until a couple days before we left Oregon. Showers. Well, forecasts can change…but this one didn’t.
Yet the cool, rainy weather allowed us to leave our dog in the car while we explored the village’s shops and galleries, stuffed our faces with indulgent flavors and found that Bigfork is just as charming wet as it is dry.
The little resort town of Bigfork lies at the mouth of the Swan River as it feeds into northern Flathead Lake. The lake is wrapped in mountain ranges – the Swan, Mission, Salish. On a clear day, you can see the peaks in the distance rising up to meet the big, blue Montana sky. On this day, they were covered in misty fog and clouds that settled in the trees and folds of the mountains.
In the heart of Bigfork village, we browsed through boutiques and feasted our eyes on the works of regional and local artists who rendered their creative ideas in sculptures, paintings, jewelry and more in the many galleries that line Electric Avenue.
As we walked the sidewalks, rain dripped off awnings, flower petals, large bronze geese, my nose. Umbrellas rested outside stores.
The town was founded in 1902 around the time a hydroelectric plant was completed at the mouth of the Swan River to generate power for nearby Kalispell. Bigfork has become an upscale resort town, but people still draw on the past for inspiration in art and cooking.
A small white house with a wraparound porch is home to Eva Gates Homemade Preserves, where fruit preserves and syrups, fudge and other goodies crowd shelves and counters.
If we had stopped in a day earlier we could have watched as cooks prepared and canned preserves using the same recipes Eva did when she began her business in 1949.
A bountiful crop of strawberries started it all. Instead of letting strawberries go to waste, Eva cooked up some homemade preserves for family and friends. People wanted more and were willing to pay for it. So, Eva and husband George began cooking up batches of preserves for sale in their two-room log cabin on a wood range.
Eva later switched over to an electric range custom-built to duplicate the wood stove. In 1979 the business moved to the village, but they still use the same electric range and the cooks continue to use Eva’s recipes, making them in five-pint batches to ensure the flavor is true to those earlier batches of Grandma Eva’s.
It’s still a family business. Eva’s granddaughter Gretchen Gates, who oversees daily operations, poked her smiling face out of an upstairs window to answer a customer’s question below in the main display area.
I bought a jar of huckleberry preserves and looked forward to spreading them on one of my own homemade buttermilk biscuits. We also picked up some spicy huckleberry Mission Hill Gourmet BBQ Sauce, also made in Montana.
We grabbed lunch-to-go at a small deli and coffee shop and drove to the Swan River Nature Trail. The rain continued, letting up some, as we walked the path that was once the highway to the Swan Valley.
Our dog Kah-less happily ran and stomped through mud puddles. He looked like a wet black bear with his fur sticking out in spikes. He was glad to stretch his legs after waiting patiently in the car while we shopped.
The Swan River rushed below us. This section of the river is known as the “wild-mile” and is the location for kayak races in late spring.
Evergreens filled the forest, but a few gold trees dotted the landscape as the Inland Northwest slipped into fall. An osprey sat atop a high tree on the opposite shoreline. He shook rain water from his head and let out a call. The air was cool and moist and felt good to breathe in.
After the walk, we drove back through town and followed a fishing-access sign to a boat launch and dock in Bigfork Bay. Even though he was already wet from the rain, Kah-less found it necessary to take a brief swim.
Not far from the boat launch, the Beardance Inn and Cabins, a 65-year-old log resort, is nestled beneath the long arms of large whipping willows. The cabins were cozy and inviting, but unfortunately for us, Beardance doesn’t allow pets. I certainly understand and I know a lot of people appreciate such policies, especially those allergic or just grossed out by smelly dog hair.
I’m grossed out, too, and Kah-less is going to get a good bath before my mama visits from South Carolina next week. In the meantime, the folks at the Timbers Motel and a lot of our other haunts have earned every single penny of that pet fee.
We relaxed in our hotel room before we went to dinner at the Montana Bistro on Electric. I was looking forward to this meal; we hadn’t been out to eat in a long time. During the summer we have to do a lot of takeout when we’re on the road because of the dog. You can’t leave a pooch in a hot car or it will fry his brain.
This trip, we indulged ourselves by actually sitting down to eat instead of trying to inhale a sandwich as we fly 75 mph down the highway in our Subaru while pushing and fighting back the dog, who just wants a few fries.
We cracked the car windows and kissed Kah-less goodbye, then walked to the Montana Bistro. Kah-less didn’t mind waiting; he had some napping to catch up on from his afternoon of playing on the trail.
We decided to eat every course that night and began with a calamari appetizer. The red pepper added to the aioli sauce for this dish was a yummy surprise. The best thing was that the calamari was perfectly cooked to my taste – tender pieces of meat in a bread-crumb coating, not overcooked to the consistency of a rubber band like at some restaurants I’ve tried.
The walleye filet John ordered was delicate, and he shared a bite with me. I ordered a light pasta dish with prawns and lots of tomatoes. We finished up with coffee and the Bistro’s version of tiramisu which features – I bet you can guess – huckleberry sauce.
The next morning, clouds began to break at the southern end of Flathead Lake as we made our way home. My mind drifted back to Bigfork and our dinner. I wonder how many squats you have to do to burn off a tiramisu?