Recently, and more than usual, my thoughts have been returning to a long-ago summer in Montana. My daily Google searches have followed my reminiscing, and this morning I discovered that Ev Lundgren had died on February 26th of this year. He was 95.
The Lundgrens bought West Glacier Mercantile in 1946. This collection of businesses at the west entrance to Glacier National Park serves visitors in search of food and drink, fuel and provisions, lodging and coin-op laundry. The quaint complex remains in the family today.
I worked in the Lundgrens' gas station, then a Chevron, for several months in the late 1970s. The first thing I found out that summer was that no one -- not the local workers and certainly not the seasonal crews -- questioned Ev's standing as The Boss.
What's more, if an employee of West Glacier Mercantile didn't get dressed-down by Ev once a day, we knew he'd written us off. He was demanding as hell but undeniably fair.
I absolutely loved working for the guy.
As a businessman, Ev personified "sweat equity" -- he refused to let anyone outwork him. (Do the math -- he was already in his early 60s when I met him.) Away from the Merc he was an accomplished outdoorsman, especially passionate when it came to Glacier Park.
I recall Ev stopping by the Chevron one particular evening around closing time. I had the next day off and planned to do some exploring in the park, so I asked him to suggest a destination, perhaps someplace uncrowded.
He didn't so much as hesitate before answering. "Get in that fancy truck of yours and drive up the North Fork Road, past Polebridge, far as it goes. Hardly anyone takes the time to make that trip, but there's nowhere better -- nowhere."
Because I followed his advice, the next afternoon I laid eyes on Kintla Lake for the very first time. I haven't been the same since.
I'll close this post with a line from Ev's obituary:
"A celebration of life for Everett Lundgren will be held in early summer 2012 when the bluebirds return."
That sentiment, like my memories of the man, makes me smile.
Thanks, Ev -- Godspeed.
Although KintlaLake Blog has been around for two-and-a-half years (as of yesterday, actually), Blogger has offered statistics only for a few months. It doesn't tell me who you are, exactly, but I know (generally) how you got here, the country you're in and what you've been looking at.
It is, in a word, fascinating.
First, I was stunned to see that KintlaLake Blog has had thousands of page-views since July. An overwhelming majority of readers (81%) check-in from somewhere in the USA; there's also a respectable audience (5%) in Canada. The rest of you are scattered across the globe -- the UK, Western and Eastern Europe, the former Soviet republics, Australia and New Zealand, China and elsewhere.
It didn't surprise me to learn that most of you found this blog via a search engine like Google, Yahoo! or bing, or through a referring site such as American Bushman or Facebook.
(Over the last couple of days, incidentally, one of the most common search strings leading readers to KintlaLake Blog has been christine o'donnell fundamentalist wacko. I love it.)
What did set me back a bit were the most popular posts. The top ten:
Sharps: Camillus MIL-K-818D
Sharps: Bark River Gunny
Sharps: RAT Cutlery RC-4P MB
Sharps: Fiddleback Forge Bushcrafter
Impressions: KSF Complete Sharpening Kit
EDC revisited
Addendum: Kephart kerfuffle
Sharps: Neck-and-neck
Sharps: Heartland blades
Sharps: A modern-day Soldier
I wouldn't have expected an article about the humble Camillus "Demo" knife to generate significant interest, really, but it did -- to the tune of twice as many page-views as any other single post. Go figure.
Anyway -- wherever you are, however you got here and whatever keeps you coming back, your interest gratifies me.
I created KintlaLake Blog a year ago today. Writing that first post, I had no idea where it'd go from there, or if it'd go anywhere at all. Honestly, I didn't know.
As it turns out, it's gone all over the place -- which reflects not just my life, but the nature of any walk through this world.
I haven't activated this blog's comments function and I don't publish my e-mail address here, but regular readers know how to find me. I've received kind compliments and intelligent counterpoint. I'm grateful for both.
Candidly, all things considered, KintlaLake Blog has become one of the most satisfying projects I've ever undertaken. I'm not sure why.
Maybe the next 12 months hold the answer. Here we go...
The New Year holiday is supposed to be an annual vantage point, a sort of ridgeline from which we survey the trail behind and gauge the territory ahead.
I'm reminded of a solitary trek I made from Kintla Lake, now 30 years ago but still bright in my memory. At one point I made a decision, arguably ill-advised, to leave the marked trail and venture north into a trackless section of the Boundary Mountains.
I recall how difficult it was to find a clear and easily navigable way upward, and I'll never forget the exhilaration I felt when finally I crested a high, open ridge from which I could take some compass bearings.
Behind me were the Kintla Creek lakes and the landscape through which I'd already passed. Canada lay ahead, with British Columbia in front of me and the southwestern corner of Alberta to my right.
Taking bearings gave me my position, but it didn't chart my course -- that was up to me. All I knew for sure was that I wouldn't be turning back. I pressed on, down-slope and northeast, making my way toward the international border.
Today, standing on a metaphorical ridge, I look back at the path that brought me here over the last 12 months. By any measure it was damned tough going, with dry washes and dead ends, uncertain footing and more than a few falls.
I've arrived at this vantage point weary yet still strong, aware of life's gifts and inescapable joys, and my family walks with me.
The trials of 2008 are behind me. I'll carry the year's lessons but drop its burdens, pressing on into new territory, both unknown and unexplored.
I have my bearings. As for 2009, all I know for sure is that I won't be turning back.
Thirty years ago, this Midwestern soul found its home at the edge of the Montana wilderness.In a remote corner of Glacier National Park, at the northern terminus of the North Fork Road, I discovered Kintla Lake. During the brilliant summer of 1978, this cold, clear jewel both soothed and inspired. It became the jumping-off point for a long and solitary trek into the mountains. And it's become the touchstone for virtually every conscious thought I've had since.
It's fitting, then, that Kintla Lake marks the beginning of this blog. What follows will be the seasoned result of a journey that began three decades ago.
