Butte, Montana; Mountain Meadow Campground
August 30
Ugh. We traversed the steepest mountain pass yet driving from Jackson Hole into Idaho. That evening we made camp in Teton Village. Whatever. They had free WiFi and we were off early in the morning so that we could make Glacier National Park by nightfall.
We drove along the western side of the Tetons-–decidedly less breathtaking from the Idaho perspective–-and crossed into Montana northwest of Yellowstone.
By now the air felt heavy in our lungs. A haze hung in even the highest valleys. Upon reaching I-90 we could hardly see ten miles ahead. Then we reached Butte. Or Butt, as those familiar with the area refer to it. Butt is situated in a dry valley, mid-Montana on the edge of a butte, which formerly contained one of the largest deposits of copper in the world. “I’ve got an idea. Let’s mine the copper via a mile-wide pit in our butte. Then, when our profitability tapers off, we’ll let the pit fill with water.”
You get the picture. The town (or city as they’d have it) isn’t known for its remarkable foresight. If they don’t start pumping or treating water within 5 or so years the pit’s “lake” will reach the city’s groundwater and...let the contamination begin. An informative plaque at the pit visitor overlook revealed that the water is so full of lead, zinc, copper, you name it, that it has the acidity of vinegar. Which when you do the math means that Butt has a hole filled with 11 billion gallons of vinegar that will continue to threaten the town’s health forever.
Trust me. This place is depressing. Abandoned mining shafts proliferate. Forest fire smoke hung heavy in the air, such that we felt breathless at times and could rarely make out the other side of the valley. Leaving the butt pit behind lifted our spirits, but didn’t help get rid of the smoke. We drove in smoke for about 250 miles that day.
After Butt we drove westward down I-90 and then north to Flathead Lake and Kalispell, MT. Flathead Lake is an amazing glacially carved body of water that took over an hour to drive along. Its shores speckled with resorts and condos of the western wealthy, it told the tale of Montana’s “expat”-dependant economy. At Kalispell we turned northeast for Glacier.
We spent the evening in camping luxury. The Mountain Meadow Campground five miles west of Glacier was good to its name. Our site, though on the edge of bear-infested woods, was perched on a hillside at least 25 yards from the next closest site.
We collected firewood in the face of a rapidly approaching rainstorm (which turned out to be sporadic, gentle showers) and cooked our dinner in peace. The night was frigid and wet. We were thankful once again for modern conveniences such as cold weather sleeping bags and pancake-cooking campstoves in the morning.
