Waterton Park, Canada: Day One
Saturday, August 6: I got me out of bed in a leisurely manner and determined
to find repast on the road. I was rewarded with the "Bapp Press" in the town
of Bapp, just, oh, 10, or 5, or 15 miles north of where you hit 89 when
you leave Glacier. Not far. Your map will have all the relevant details.
When in Bapp, or near Bapp, eat at this place. You will be happy.
They have that counterculture thing going, waitress in dredlocks, manager
in faded tie-dye, and the food is superb. I got the Traditional Press.
Sourdough bread inside of which are, well, pressed egg and cheese. I
asked the waitress how they do it, since the 2 sides of the triangle that
you're not eating out of are pressed together. She looked at me blankly.
"We use the press machine." So that clears that up. In addition to
the Traditional Press, there are several varieties of Press, and lots
of normal 3-egg cowboy breakfast sorts of things. She told me the
chili is good. I was sitting next to some bluegrass singer song-writer
dude and it was a bit embarrassing since everyone kept coming up to
him and saying, "Hey, aren't you famous person from North Carolina
who's come up for the festival tonight?" I have to say, for all his
putative fame, no one volunteered to buy his breakfast.
- But the night before that, I took yet more Art Shots (tm) of the mountains in front of the Many Clacier Hotel, mountains that for some reason I love deeply.
(which around here, goes from 8 p.m. to 10 p.m., despite the sun
getting up at some unknown but very early hour, probably 3 a.m. Or
maybe 5 a.m.)
- I introduce you to Lake Waterton and her surrounding peaks; they stretch themselves out before
the Prince of Wales Lodge, where I stayed August 7 and 8. You will be seeing this shot many times, just like the shot in front of the Many Glacier Hotel.
slightly to the right, we see the little town of Waterton Township.
About 100 people live there in the summer (many more seasonal workers,
though) and about 50 people stay on through the winters.
Prince of Wales Lodge. It does look a bit cartoonish, but it's quite
nice inside, with a 5-story atrium. My room was on the 5th floor and
I dutifully walked up every time. Except once. I was tired. I plead
the 5th. (New meaning for pleading the fifth.)
- I never managed to get a good shot of the Prince of Wales Lodge lodged, as it were, amongst all these massive stones. This shot gives you a slight idea.
- A kind
Chinese gentleman who was on a tour - they all came up on a bus to
admire the view in front of the lodge, and take pictures of each
other, in a dizzying combination of persons and poses - took my
picture. He insisted I look off to the side, and not into the camera.
- I had a
glass of club soda (what, no Perrier? This is practically a French
colony) and a glass of merlot in the bar. This is the view from my
table. I took this so you would know that this vista was right out
there to touch.
- And this
was the view from my table in the dining room. (Soon after, a
peculiar family took up this space. After much spying, I decided the
blond was a girlfriend, and not Mom. The two kids stubbornly only
interacted with Dad.) I had French Onion soup (passable), Ceasar
Salad (passable), Half Rack of Lamb, medium rare (pretty good.) The
bill was shocking. But then I remembered, it's Candadian dollars, so
it's practically free.
- And mais
oui - c'est la meme famous shot, this time as an Art Shot (tm)! I
decided the early twilight light was better than how it had been
earlier in the day. And mais oui, but I was right.
Last modified: Sunday, August 8, Prince of Wales Lodge, Room 520, the breeze feels nice right about now and also all night long when you leave all the windows open and the air moves purposefully as if condemned to a life of wandering.