Of Mice and Men and Grizzlies

We have picked up a small. furry companion with a long tail. No, he wasn't hitching, but apparently he thought our home was big enough for three. He has now chewed through the insulation under the dash, through a bag of Cheerios and through my homemade soup mix. He has left a trail of droppings along the way, presumably so that he can find his way back to the food.

We spend the better part of this morning searching for him. He's a quick one. But eventually his little gray nose poked from behind the heater vent, and his little gray butt got booted out the door. Just to be informed should he return, we've left a mouse-size cracker on the front carpet. Latest report - cracker still in tact.

Today has certainly been a day for wildlife sightings. The mouse was only the beginning. The other animals were much bigger, more wild and, in one case, more fearsome. A deer grazing by a stone wall was followed by mountain sheep grazing the meadows.

We saw marmots, every variety of squirrel and, on our hike to Hidden Lake, a grizzly.

The grizzly was huge, perhaps 9 feet head to toe. We saw him through a pair of 8 x 23 magnification binoculars, which was close enough as far as we were concerned. He was controlling the west bank of the lake at the point the Hidden Lake hiking trail ended. Needless to say, we opted against continuing our hike an d turned back for Logan's Pass Visitor Center.

News of a grizzly travels fast. All those we passed on the way down were inquiring his whereabouts.

Moving on to yet another hike

Imagine hiking a path 3' wide with a 1000 foot sheer drop to your left and a straggling sheer rock face to your right and being approached by two enormous mountain goats. You yield the right of way to the goat and hang on.

Every trail here leads to something new. Some lead to breath taking views, some to colorful geological rock formations, some to ice carvings, some to meadows, some to flowers, valleys, glaciers and waterfalls. I can understand why people tell us they come back here year after year.

Life on the Road

I haven't talked much about life on the road yet. I think I will take a minute to do so. I should warn you though, this journal entry is not for the weak at heart.

To begin with, I haven't showered in 6 days. My legs could qualify for preservation with the National Forest Foundation, and I can't remember if the socks I'm wearing have seen the inside of my boots for two days or three.

Van living requires one to, "How shall I put it?", lower one's standards. Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. Showering is highly overrated. But constantly having to clean up so as to convert the dining room to a bedroom, the bedroom to a bathroom, the bathroom to a living room, or God forbid tear it all apart to get to the engine compartment, can be a bit of a bother. All this pulling apart can cause one to become less concerned about that godly word "cleanliness".

One thing though that I must advise on before you throw in the towel and buy your own four-wheeled home is the '60-degree phenomena'. The '60-degree phenomena' comes into play whenever the top is not popped. Everything you do in the van is basically done at 60 degrees. At times this phenomena becomes so overwhelming that when the top is popped, you forget to stand straight, and continue to go about your business bent unnaturally at this uncomfortable angle.

The other slightly annoying thing with van living is the privacy factor. Basically there is none. Privacy now means simply averting your eyes to the other wall of the van.

But van living has it's pluses. It has certainly taught me the value of recycling and of re-use. A pak-a-potty for instance can double as a table. It can also serve well as a dish rack, a foot rest and a place to put those hot matches that you wouldn't want burning a hole through anything else.

Now when I hear the word van, I think instantly of 'studio apartment'. For like a studio apartment, you are always in the way of someone else, your bed most likely pulls up to the kitchen and neatness is something you can never quite obtain.

All in all, I like my new home. If it weren't for this van and it's familiar walls, I might feel a bit more disoriented after having spent the last 16 days in 10 different places.