11th April 2010

Plowing Going to the Sun Road

Montana,Outdoors,Travel,Video

Some might not be able to wrap their minds around why it takes so long to open Going to the Sun Road in Glacier National Park. I know it was hard for me to comprehend.

In all likelihood, even with less snow this year than in past years, the 53-mile road that traverses Glacier National Park may not be open until the middle of June.

So far they have only plowed two miles of the road on the east side, which is the closest entry point for yours truly. On the west side near Apgar the plows have only progressed three or four miles. To make matters worse, they will be working on the road this year and will not open the road past Logan Pass until the work is completed. And there have been approximately seven or eight fatalities in the region as a result of avalanches; three times more than died in all of North America last year from bear attacks.

Despite the road being closed, though, the views from the perimeter of the park are still awe inspiring.

These videos might give you a better sense of the challenges facing snow removal crews at Glacier National Park:

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6th April 2010

Day 26 – Hopper’s Awakening

Flickr,Montana,Motorcycle,Photography
© 2010 Todd S. Klassy

A beautiful western landscape scene between Cleveland and Lloyd, Montana.

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Here in Havre the weather is slow to change from the cold of winter to the warmth of summer. I know the calendar says April, but my bones still say February. Then again, maybe this is how spring is supposed to be.

Back home in Wisconsin we often had a short spring; typically only a week…sandwiched between six months of winter and another six months of road construction. Cold mornings and mild afternoons is probably a sign winter is gradually giving way to spring. I’m just not feeling it yet. It may take some getting used to.

This afternoon was a bit mild, but still cool. To celebrate the warmest temperatures I have seen in weeks I took my motorcycle out of the garage for the first time since arriving here in Montana. The wheels on my Yamaha TW-200 haven’t seen any open pavement since last autumn. As such, I was really looking forward to today.

I plugged-in the battery for much of the winter because it is small and has an annoying habit of running low on juice. A long winter of not using the motorcycle can’t be good for its battery. Of course, I also tax the battery heavily with my myriad of gadgets; GPS, two very loud horns, and an external plug I use to charge a cell phone and heated vest. I know the T-Dub was never designed for all of this and half expect an electrical fire under my ass someday while flying down the road.

One of the projects I have planned for this summer includes figuring out how to shoe horn a larger alternator and battery onto the T-Dub…so I can power even more devices. I don’t think I will be satisfied until I can power a laptop, a string of LED lights inside my tent, and a small coffee maker off of my T-Dub’s battery. Ah, the joys of roughing it on the road.

When I pulled my motorcycle out of the garage, I jumped onto the saddle, and did a quick prayer. I hoped all those cold months in storage didn’t harm her in any way. I then hit the ignition button and she began to turn over. At least the battery was good. Keeping the battery plugged in throughout the winter obviously paid some dividends. That was the good news.

It took a little coaxing some positive affirmation to convince Hopper (that’s what I call her) to start up. I don’t think she liked Montana’s thin air. I played with the choke for a few minutes, gave her a brief rest, and squeezed the ignition again. Finally, Hopper chugged back to life. I gently feathered the throttle to keep her from dying, and soon she was humming just like she did back in October before I put her away. It was going to be nice riding her again.

I took Hopper for a spin around town, loaded her up with new fuel, checked the tires, and then drove down to Beaver Creek Park and the northern gates of the Bear Paw Mountains. It was still a tad too cold to ride a motorcycle this afternoon, but it still felt good.

One of the first things I noticed is that my motorcycle seemed peppier than what I remembered. I checked the choke to make sure it wasn’t still on.

The T-Dub’s engine is not very complicated; one of the main reasons I bought her. There are no complicated circuits or microchips on a TW-200. In fact, the bike hasn’t changed at all since the early 1980s, with the exception of Yamaha adding front disc brakes. Everything else, for the most part, is the same.

The T-Dub doesn’t have a fuel injector that automatically adjusts itself for various conditions. And as you change altitudes, a fuel injector can be nice. If you want it to run better at a altitude, you need to manually ‘re-jet’ the carburetor on a TW-200. Mine must be jetted best for the higher elevation here in Havre, which is good…until I take her into the mountains.

I sure hope they have a slow vehicle lane on Going to the Sun Road. Otherwise Hopper and ‘yours truly’ may end up a hood ornament on some tour bus.

24th March 2010

Day 14 – In the Middle of the Road

Montana,Outdoors,Photography

© 2010 Todd S. Klassy

This little guy came up to me as I was photographing in Chester, MT and followed me around for 20 minutes.

The decision to call this area the “Great Plains” is an interesting one.

As a noun, the word “plain” describes any area of land not significantly higher than its adjacent land. And it’s true; the landscape here in northern Montana is rather flat and unassuming. But as an adjective the word “plain” also means “ordinary, simple, and undistinguished. I’m sorry, but I see it as anything but plain.

Sure, a drive down Highway 2 can be long. So far I have driven 300 miles of Highway 2 from Wolf Point to Shelby–several times. I am still unfamiliar with Montana, so I find myself playing Connect the Dots in my mind as I drive through the small, sleepy towns along the way. Oswego, Nashua, Glasgow, Vandalia, Saco, Malta, Savoy, Harlem, Chinook, Kremlin, Gildford, Hingham, Inverness, Joplin, Chester, Galata, and Dunkirk. Few have a population of more than a couple hundred, but every town has an interesting story (or two) and interesting sites to photograph.

I assume it was called the Great Plains by Lewis & Clark when they first explored the territory along the Missouri River. I’m sure they also saw magnificent mountains, bottomless canyons, and raging rivers along the way, so I suppose it is fitting to call this rather nondescript landscape “plain.” But it stretches across the northern United States for thousands of miles, so the attribute “great” also seems appropriate.

The western Great Plains, which abuts the Rocky Mountains to its east, is quite simply our version of the African Serengeti. There aren’t any elephants, lions, and giraffes roaming the plains, but it is abundant with wildlife. Especially in the spring. As the snows melt and the land thaws, wildlife is in motion all along the Hi-Line. Mule deer, pronghorn antelope, white-tailed jack rabbits, geese, owls, pheasants, and many, many other animals are easily seen from the comfort of your vehicle as you drive along Highway 2. My head is constantly sweeping from left-to-right as I scan the road in front of me for potential hazards (and photo opportunities).

Everyone here says you should not to swerve to avoid hitting an animal in the middle of the road. They say it is safer to take your foot off of the gas, plow through, and hope for the best. It seems to be good advice, but it kills me inside any time I hit an animal when driving. I’m here to photograph natural beauty; not kill it.

One of the most common animals around here is the northern pocket gopher ground squirrel. I first saw them this week while driving back from Shelby. After a particularly harsh winter in these parts the northern pocket gopher ground squirrel is just now starting to emerge from its den underground . At first I only saw a few of them. Now, it seems,they are everywhere.

They are cute, little, fuzzy animals, which remind me of the dramatic chipmunk on YouTube. When you fly past one on the side of the road, I swear, they shoot you the same look.

They aren’t very bright, either. From Shelby to Havre I swear a hundred or more darted across the road in front of me. One of the first gophers ground squirrels I met on Highway 2 ran right in front of my truck. I had no time to react so I just closed my eyes and tried to straddle him with my truck. I opened my eyes, and looked in the rear view mirror, only to see him tumbling down the road after getting hit with the backwash of air from the back of my truck. A few seconds later he picked himself up and ran away. Lucky guy.

For the most part I have been able to avoid hitting the gophers ground squirrels who try to play chicken with me and my 5000 lbs. truck. But I have hit two or three. And  every time it happens I feel badly.

Steve (the cat) probably wouldn’t be happy with me either. If he ever gets loose I and is stupid enough to stand in the middle of the road I hope someone else will have the decency to swerve and not hit him.

I guess the northern pocket gopher’s ground squirrel’s behavior is a bit analogous to my life at the moment. At times I feel like I too am darting across a busy highway (though Highway 2 isn’t really all that busy) hoping to avoid the next large, dark mass trying to plow through me.

Then again, I never found the middle of the road a good place to be.

27th February 2010

Chances of Dying

Montana,Outdoors

© 2007 Todd S. Klassy

Wild redcurrants succumb to the winter's cold outside New Glarus, Wisconsin.

As I planned for my journey out west I began to consider all of the dangers I might face. There is always the fear of the unknown. And certain amount of danger is necessary if a photographer is going to successfully capture remarkable images of nature’s glory.

I worried about the obvious. I could get mauled by a bear, bitten by a rattlesnake, or gored by a bull elk in heat. Not very pleasant ways to die if you ask me.

So I decided to arm myself with a gun; a very powerful hand gun you see. Sure, I shot a gun when growing up on the family farm, but I have not done so for many years. Learning to shoot a gun all over again is not something I worried about. How hard could it be?

I also decided to arm myself with knowledge. The more I knew about the dangers lurking in the woods of the western United States the better prepared I would be if and when something dangerous happened.

Here’s what I learned:

In 2009 there were only two fatal bear attacks in all of North America.

In 2008 there were three.

There are approximately 12 fatalities from venomous snakebites each year in the United States. Oddly, almost all of the victims are men (not good for me) and under the influence of alcohol (very good for me). Of course if I traveled to India my chances of dying from a snakebite increase dramatically. More than 10,000 people fell there last year from poisonous snakebites.

27 people died in 2009 under the fall of an avalanche. 36 died the year before. Even more died in Canada.

There is a 1-in-300,000,000 chance of dying in a fairground accident, which isn’t a big deal if you consider there is also a 1-in-250,000,000 chance of dying from a falling coconut. Lucky for me there aren’t many coconuts in Montana.

I have a 1-in-83,930 chance of being hit by and a 1-in-10,000,000 chance of dying from lightning. But my chances are probably far greater since I’m often outside taking pictures in the rain. I am also very tall.

Approximately 62,000 people die annually from natural disasters. Statistically very few of them are from the United States. So I have a .000062% chance of dying from a tornado, earthquake, tsunami, or hurricane…in Montana.

I have a 1-in-500,000 chance expiring in a train accident. There is an Amtrak station in Havre, you know.

There were a total of 1,100 fatalities occurred last year due to the accidental use of a firearm.

There were 5,357 motorcycle fatalities in the U.S. in 2008…and the figures for 2009 are expected to be much higher.

There is a 1-in-100 chance of dying while driving. More than 43,000 people died on American highways last year. I am driving 1300 miles to Montana and will put another 25,000+ miles on the road this year, which is many more miles than the average U.S. driver so I suppose my chances of dying in a car accident are higher.

Oh, and my chances of dying from heart disease or stroke are 1-in-2.5 (probably even higher).

Now that I think about it, I don’t think I need to buy a gun after all. I also better put away that cheeseburger…while driving…my motorcycle…in India.

Sorry, I couldn’t find any statistics about those who were killed by bull elks in heat.