Day One in Washington and Kalispell, Montana Funny thing about this trip was it was set up by my sister, Laura, but she couldn't go.

When Laura couldn't go I felt really deflated. She is not her usual self and doesn't want to affect the trip. We are sad, confused and wanting to know if the trip itself is right and if we should go on without her, we are perplexed. Of course she insists, and we grudgingly agree, but the flight out has complications...for me.

Texas TNT played in Clear Lake Shores that Friday night, at Aspen's.




Ok, that's not Aspen's but it's a cool place and a hotshot cop saw I didn't have a left turn signal at a left turn light, (he told me as much), and then found a small amount of a banned substance, one which the possession of was recently decriminalized in Harris County, Texas (we were just out of that jurisdiction), much less made legal to smoke as in Colorado. It caused to me to miss my flight. I spent a night and morning in the Galveston County jail, bonded out and caught a flight almost 24 hours after the first one. I love my sisters, I can't decide which I love more.But I loved Laura most at this point she got me another ticket and for very little penalty.



I took off Sunday morning instead of Saturday, so Barbara had a day with Linda before I arrived. When I landed late in the morning at Seattle Tacoma Airport south of Seattle, Barb and Linda met me. We drove a short distance to Linda's mom, Auntie Jean. We were unannounced, and I heard Auntie Jean's voice on speaker: she voiced her displeasure at the surprise. but when we walked in it was clear, Linda wanted Auntie Jean to see me, and that I had in fact, made it. Our trip was endowed by my mother, who wanted us all to see the "Going to the Sun" Highway in Glacier National Park, Montana. So this trip was hastily planned but faithfully executed by Laura, Barbara, cousin Linda and myself.

In the weeks up to the trip we were very exited and she and Barb and I tossed around lodging and travel issues, and Laura made the bookings with an online travel club called airbn


Driving East from Seattle I didn't see any of the city. I love Seattle, it's position, it's history, it's rich musical current and it's artistic bend. There is a large bride I'll describe later which we passed both over and underneath, which houses a troll, an actual, giant, sculpted in concrete, clutching a VW bug TROLL UNDER THE BRIDGE. So there is a beautiful artistic clime there which is exciting.


Eastern Washington is on the high plains of the Rocky Mountain's Western Range. Spokane is only 30 or so miles from the Idaho border, and is where my sister and I were relocated when we were teenagers. On our Eastward journey, we passed Medical Lake, a town just west of Spokane on the high, hot plateau that rose from the central region.

The visual change in this trip is extreme: Mountains in western Washington, to the amber plains of central with the mighty Colombia River, and then greener Eastern Washington on the western slope of the upcoming Rocky Mountains. We decided to stop in Spokane for a brief drive through the streets of our first neighborhood there.

In 1979, my father and mother made a secret agreement. We heard about it later, but when we were told we were moving, we packed up all our waterbeds and all our family belongings into 8-10 large barrels which would seal up. We packed a U-Haul trailer, attached it to the Cadillac and left the house on Des Jardines. I thought in retrospect it was my fathers attempt to supply my mother's dearest wish: to live up north again. She seemed to miss it so much. Of course there were many more factors, and we lived there only 2-3 years and moved back to Houston without my father. But on that car trip to Washington, and we weren't sure what the final destination was, we experienced several outstanding things: Mt. Rushmore, Deadwood, S.D. and others. When we eventually got to Spokane, we stayed with Mom's sister Auntie Jean for several days. We eventually got into our own house, and we met our cousin Linda and her kids Michael and Cindy, our two 'second cousins'.

The few moments today we spent in Spokane on our Eastern Push were at Mirabeau park a pleasant, small park east of town on the Spokane river. For us, growing up there as East Valley teenagers, we went to the river. It was a gathering point, and on this day there were several groups of young people, as well as tubers who had just come off the river from it's Idaho spring. We walked down a steep embankment to get to the water and encountered a poor woman who'd fallen on the rocks and had bloodied her knees. She seemed very drunk but had a friend with her and they were taking a break before continuing their climb up to the parking lot.

The river looked and smelled the same: not a bad smell. Not at all. Just a smell of the ecosystem, the plants, the lichens and the frogs, snails and birds. The same river. The Spokane river is wonderful further downriver, through Downtown Spokane where it splits then it's reconfluence is at a mighty set of falls.

Spokane... is a place from memory as a teenager, so we drove on.

Eastward from Spokane into Idaho but ultimately into Montana, our destination. I had been to Montana several times since the first time, when I was a little boy traveling with my mother and sisters aboard Frontier Airlines. All I remember then was the bottom of the airsick bag. It got to be routine. Anytime we traveled, Mom packed a quick bag so I could get my barf over with.

We visited Montana and Mom's family home twice as I was growing up. There may have been a third time I don't remember because I was too young (they have pictures of it), but we went there twice:  once during Christmas holiday and once during summer vacation. My grandmother was Helga Lovberg, first generation immigrant from Norway. Nee Nee is what all us grandkids called her and she and her house were the dreams, memories and recollections of a time during my life which was so special... it is without anything close. It was during my pre-teen years and because of the chaotic home we lived in, it was an idyllic alternate.



We were travelling with a purpose and all these things pulled at us along the way, like, "hey, think about me". There literally isn't enough time. So we drove through Idaho, it's narrow panhandle on the twisting I-90 passing Post Falls, where we cliff dived and Coeur d'Alene with it's scenic lake. We pause at the mining town of Kelogg, which along with others was founded to house workers at the local mines including the Sunshine Silver Mine. Sunshine Silver Mine caught fire and claimed the lives of 91 men in 1972. 

Almost without notice, the Clark Fork river is flowing into western Montana.

We turn North and travel to Kalispell where our first nights' lodging awaits us. Laura booked it through AirBnB, and spoke with the owner at least once. Seemed like a idyllic place...what could go wrong.

As it sometimes happens, but never makes Fox News, nothing went wrong:  it was all it was stacked up to be! The owner was actually there when we arrived, several hours overdue but tired and relieved. He welcomed us and gave us a tour. The house was a property he said he tried to rent but they just destroyed it, so he found that vacation renters were much more workable. His small, three bedroom (two up one down) walk-out cottage sat at the entrance of his storage unit business. There were window unit air conditioners in several widows, which, oddly enough, it was hot enough to need them.

There was an unseasonable heat wave, it had been in the nineties this past week, and usually that wasn't until later in the summer. There were also some wildfires in the area,  Among the amenities was a working gramophone with actual gramophone records. They were of early 1940's popular music and they did play!  There were antiques all over the house, as decorative objects. Full amenities were present, and we showered, and slept in comfort if only for a few short hours.







  ¶ 8:45 PM