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violence-infatuation · 5 months

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Travis, B.

By Maile Meloy

Chet Moran grew up in Logan, Montana, at a time when kids weren’t supposed to get polio anymore. In Logan they still did, and he had it before he was two. He recovered, but his right hip never fit in the socket, and his mother always thought he would die young.

When he was fourteen, he started riding spoiled and unbroke horses to prove to her that he was invincible, and they bucked and kicked and piled up on him. He developed a theory that horses didn’t kick or shy because they were wild; they kicked because for millions of years they’d had the instinct to move fast or be lion meat.

“You mean because they’re wild,” his father had said, when Chet advanced this theory.

He couldn’t explain, but he thought his father was wrong. There was a difference, and what people meant when they called a thing “wild” was not what he saw in the green horses at all.

He was small and wiry, but his hip made it hard for him to scramble out from under the horses, and by the time he was eighteen he had broken his right kneecap, his right foot, and his left femur. His father drove him to Great Falls, where the doctors put a steel rod in his good leg from hip to knee. From then on, he walked as though he were turning to himself to ask a question.

His size came from his mother, who was three-quarters Cheyenne; his father was Irish and bullheaded. They had vague dreams of improvement for their sons, but no ideas about how to achieve them. His older brother joined the Army. Watching him board an eastbound train, handsome and straight-limbed in his uniform, Chet wondered why God or fate had favored his brother. Why had the cards been so unevenly dealt?

He left home at twenty, and moved up north to the highline. He took a job outside Havre feeding cows through the winter, while the rancher’s family lived in town and the kids went to school. When the roads were clear, he rode to the nearest neighbors’ for a game of pinochle, but mostly he was snowed in and alone. He had plenty of food, and good TV reception. He had some girlie magazines that he got to know better than he’d ever known an actual person. He fed the cows with a team and sled, and dragged the sick or injured ones back to the barn on a rope. He spent his twenty-first birthday wearing long johns under two flannel shirts, his winter coat, and the rancher’s big oilskin, with his feet on the space heater, warming up soup on the stove. But he got afraid of himself that winter; he sensed something dangerous that would break free if he kept so much alone.

In the spring, he got a job in Billings, in an office with friendly secretaries and coffee breaks spent talking about rodeos and sports. They liked him there, and offered to send him to the main office in Chicago. He went home to his rented room and walked around on his stiff hip and guessed he’d be stove up in a wheelchair in three years if he kept sitting around an office. He quit the job and bucked bales all summer, for hardly any money, and the pain went out of his hip, unless he stepped wrong.

That winter, he took another feeding job, outside Glendive, on the North Dakota border. If he went east instead of north, he thought, there might not be so much snow. He lived in an insulated room built into the barn, with a TV, a couch, a hot plate, and an icebox. He bought some new magazines, in which the girls were strangers to him, and watched “Starsky & Hutch” and the local news. At night, he could hear the horses moving in their stalls. But he’d been wrong about the snow; by October it had already started. He made it through Christmas, with packages and letters from his mother, but by January he got afraid of himself again. The fear was not particular at all. It began as a buzzing feeling around his spinal cord, a restlessness without aim.

The rancher had left him a truck, with a headbolt heater on an extension cord, and he warmed it up one night and drove the snowy road into town. The café was open, but he wasn’t hungry. The stores were closed. The gas pumps stood in an island of bluish light. He turned off the main street to loop through town, and he drove by the school. A light was on at a side door and people were leaving their cars in the lot and going inside. He slowed, parked on the street, and watched them. He ran a hand around the steering wheel and tugged at a loose thread on its worn leather grip. Finally, he got out of the truck, turned his collar up against the cold, and followed the people inside.

One classroom had its lights on, and the people were sitting in the too small desks, saying hello as if they all knew each other. Construction-paper signs and pictures covered the walls, and the cursive alphabet ran along the top of the chalkboard. Most of the people were about his parents’ age, though their faces were softer, and they dressed as though they lived in town, in thin shoes and clean bright jackets. He went to the back and took a seat. He left his coat on, a big old sheepskin-lined denim, and checked his boots to see what he might have dragged in, but they were clean from walking through snow.

“We should have gotten a high-school room,” one of the men said.

A lady—a girl—stood at the teacher’s desk, at the front. She had curly light-colored hair and wore a gray wool skirt and a blue sweater, and glasses with wire rims. She hung her red down coat over the teacher’s chair, and took some papers from a briefcase. She was thin, and looked tired and nervous. Everyone grew quiet, and waited for her to speak.

“I’ve never done this before,” she said. “I’m not sure how to start. Do you want to introduce yourselves?”

“We all know each other,” a gray-haired woman said.

“Well, she doesn’t,” another woman protested.

“You could tell me what you know about school law,” the young teacher said.

The adults in the small desks looked at each other. “I don’t think we know anything,” someone said.

“That’s why we’re here.”

The girl looked helpless for a second and then turned to the chalkboard. Her bottom was a smooth curve in the wool skirt. She wrote “Adult Ed 302” and her name, Beth Travis, and the chalk squeaked on the “h" and the “r.” The men and women grimaced.

“If you hold it straight up,” an older woman said, demonstrating with a pencil, “with your thumb along the side, it won’t do that.”

Beth Travis blushed and changed her grip and began to talk about state and federal law as it applied to the public-school system. Chet found a pencil in his desk and held it the way the woman had said to hold the chalk. He wondered why no one had ever showed him that in his school days.

The class took notes, and he sat in the back and listened. Beth Travis was a lawyer, it seemed. Chet’s father told jokes about lawyers, but the lawyers were never girls. The class was full of teachers, and they asked about students’ rights and parents’ rights. He’d never imagined that a student had any rights. His mother had grown up in the mission school in St. Xavier, where the Indian kids were beaten for not speaking English. He’d been luckier. An English teacher had once struck him on the head with a dictionary, and a math teacher had splintered a yardstick on his desk. But in general they had been no trouble.

Once, Beth Travis seemed about to ask him something, but one of the teachers raised a hand, and he was saved.

At nine o’clock, the teachers thanked Miss Travis and said she’d done well. They talked to each other about going someplace for a beer. He felt he should explain himself, rather than sneak out past the crowd, so he stayed in his too small desk. His hip was stiff from sitting so long.

Miss Travis packed up her briefcase and put on her puffy red coat, which made her look blown up, like a balloon. “Are you staying?” she asked.

“No, Ma’am.” He levered himself out from behind the desk.

“Are you registered for the class?”

“No, Ma’am. I just saw people coming in.”

“Are you interested in school law?”

He thought about how to answer that. “I wasn’t before tonight.”

She looked at her watch, which was thin and gold-colored. Her wrist was narrow. “Is there somewhere to get food?” she asked. “I have to drive back to Missoula.”

The interstate ran straight across Montana, from the edge of North Dakota, where they were, west through Billings and Bozeman and past Logan over the mountains to Missoula, near the Idaho border. “That’s an awful long drive,” he said.

She shook her head, not in disagreement but in amazement. “I took this job before I finished law school,” she said. “I wanted any job, I was so afraid of my loans coming due. I didn’t know where Glendive was. It looks like Belgrade, the word does, I mean, which is closer to Missoula—I must have confused them. Then I got a real job, and they’re letting me do this because they think it’s funny. But it took me nine and a half hours to get here. And now I have to drive nine and a half hours back, and I have to work in the morning. I’ve never done anything so stupid in my life.”

“I can show you where the café is,” he said.

She looked at him, as if wondering whether she could trust him, and then she nodded. “O.K.,” she said.

In the parking lot, he was self-conscious about his gait, but she didn’t seem to notice. She got into a yellow Datsun and followed his truck to the café on the main drag. He guessed she could have found it herself, but he wanted more time with her. He went in and sat opposite her in a booth. She ordered coffee and a turkey sandwich and a brownie sundae, and asked the waitress to bring it all at once. He didn’t want anything. The waitress left, and Beth Travis took off her glasses and set them on the table. She rubbed her eyes until they were red.

“Did you grow up here?” she asked. “Do you know those teachers?”

“No Ma’am.”

She put her glasses back on. “I’m only twenty-five,” she said. “Don’t call me that.”

He didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t have been able to guess her age—she was three years older than he was—but that was because in his mind she had started as a teacher. Her hair in the overhead light was the color of honey. She wasn’t wearing any rings.

“Did you tell me how you ended up in that class?” she asked.

“I just saw people going in.”

She studied him and seemed to wonder again if she should be afraid. But the room was bright, and he tried to look harmless. He was harmless, he was pretty sure. Being with some-one helped—he didn’t feel so wound up.

“Did I make a fool of myself?” she asked.

“No.”

“Are you going to come back?”

“When’s it next?”

“Thursday,” she said. “Every Tuesday and Thursday for nine weeks. Oh, God.” She put her hands over her eyes again. “What have I done?”

He tried to think how he could help. He had to stay with the cows, and driving to pick her up in Missoula didn’t make any sense.

“I’m not signed up,” he finally said.

She shrugged. “You could go to the Adult Ed office. But they’re not going to check.”

“I might, then,” he said.

Her food came, and she started on the sandwich.

“I don’t even know school law,” she said. “I’ll have to learn enough to teach each class.” She wiped a spot of mustard from her chin. “Where do you work?”

“Out on the Hayden ranch, feeding cattle. It’s just a winter job.”

“Do you want the other half of this sandwich?”

He shook his head, and she pushed the plate aside and took a bite of the sundae. The ice cream had started to melt over the brownie.

“I’d show you if you could stay longer,” he said.

“Show me what?”

“The ranch,” he said. “The cows.”

“I have to get back,” she said. “I have to work in the morning.”

“Sure,” he said.

She checked her watch. “Jesus, it’s quarter to ten.” She took a few quick bites of sundae, finished her coffee, and laid a ten-dollar bill on the table. “I have to go.”

He watched as the low lights of the Datsun disappeared out of town, then he drove home in the other direction. Thursday was not very far from Tuesday, and it was almost Wednesday now. He was suddenly starving. He wished now that he’d taken the other half of the sandwich, but he had been too shy.

Thursday night, he was at the school before anyone else, and he waited in the truck. One of the teachers showed up with a key, unlocked the side door, and turned on the light. When more people arrived, he went to his seat in the back. Beth Travis came in, took off her coat, and pulled a sheaf of papers from her briefcase. She was wearing a green sweater with a turtleneck collar, jeans, and black snow boots. She walked around with the handouts and nodded to him. She looked good in jeans. “KEY SUPREME COURT DECISIONS AFFECTING SCHOOL LAW” the handout said across the top.

The class started, and Beth Travis asked questions and hands went up. Chet sat in the back and watched. It was strange to see teachers being students, acting like real people. He tried to imagine his old teachers here, but he couldn’t. A man not much older than Chet asked about salary increases, and Beth Travis said she wasn’t a labor organizer, but he should talk to the union. The older women in the class laughed and teased the man about rabble-rousing. Chet could see cliques forming. At nine o’clock, some of the students went for beers, and he was left alone again with Beth Travis.

“I have to lock up,” she said.

For forty-eight hours, he had assumed that he would go to dinner with her, but now he didn’t know how to make that happen. He had never asked any girl anywhere. There had been girls in high school who had felt sorry for him, but he had been too shy or too proud to take advantage of it. He stood there for an awkward moment.

“Are you going to the café?” he finally asked.

“For about five minutes,” she said.

In the café, she asked for the fastest thing on the menu. The waitress brought her a bowl of soup with bread, coffee to go, and the check.

“I don’t even know your name,” she said, when the waitress left.

“Chet Moran.”

She nodded, as if that were the right answer. “Do you know anyone in town who could teach this class?”

“I don’t know anyone at all.”

“Can I ask what happened to your leg?”

He was surprised by the question, but he thought she could ask him just about anything. He told her the simplest version: the polio, the horses, the broken bones.

“And you still ride?”

He said that if he didn’t ride he’d end up in a wheelchair or a loony bin or both.

She nodded, as if that were the right answer, too, and looked out the window at the dark street. “I was so afraid I’d finish law school and be selling shoes,” she said. “I’m sorry to keep talking about it. All I can think about is that drive.”

That weekend was the longest one he’d had. He cleaned the tack for the team, and curried the horses until they gleamed and stamped, watching him, suspicious of what he intended. He dosed the calves that needed it with medicine, but mostly they were fine, and went bawling back to their mothers, who waited outside the barn. He wondered if the cows had an idea of their calf, with his habits and smells. Did they worry, or did they just wait for the next thing to happen?

Inside, he sat on the couch, flipped through the channels, and finally turned the TV off. He lay on his back, wondering how he might court a girl who was older, and a lawyer—a girl who lived clear across the state and couldn’t think about anything but that distance. He felt a strange sensation in his chest, but it wasn’t the restlessness he had felt before.

On Tuesday, he saddled one of the horses and rode it into town, leaving the truck plugged into the orange extension cord. There was a chinook wind, and the night was warm, for January, and the sky clear. The plains spread out dark and flat in every direction, except where the lights glowed from town. At the school, he tethered the horse to the bike rack, out of sight of the side door and the lot where the teachers would park. He took a fat plastic bag of oats from his jacket pocket and held it open. The horse sniffed at it, then worked the oats out of the bag with his lips.

“That’s all I got,” he said, shoving the empty plastic bag back in his pocket.

The horse lifted its head to sniff at the strange town smells.

“Don’t get yourself stolen,” he told the horse.

When most of the teachers had arrived, he went in and took his seat. Everyone sat in the same seat as they had the week before. They talked about the chinook and whether it would melt the snow. Finally, Beth Travis came in, with her puffy coat and her briefcase. He was even happier to see her than he had expected, and she was wearing jeans again, which was good. He’d been afraid she might wear the narrow wool skirt. She looked harassed and unhappy to be there. The teachers chattered on.

“Can I give you a ride to the café?” he asked, when the class was over and the teachers had cleared out.

“Oh—” she said, and she looked away.

“Not in the truck,” he said quickly, and he wondered why a truck might seem more dangerous to a woman. He guessed because it was like a room. “Come outside,” he said.

She waited in the parking lot while he untied the horse and mounted up. He rode around from the bike rack, elated with the feeling of easy movement, of sitting a horse as well as anyone did, to where Beth Travis stood hugging her briefcase.

“Oh, my God,” she said.

“Don’t think about it,” he said. “Give me your briefcase. Now give me your hand. Left foot in the stirrup. Now swing the other leg over.” She did it, awkwardly, and he pulled her up behind him. He held her briefcase against the pommel, and she held tightly to his jacket, her legs against his. He couldn’t think of anything except how warm she was, pressed against the base of his spine. He rode the back way, through the dark streets, before cutting out toward the main drag and stopping short of it, behind the café. He helped her down, swung to the ground after her, gave her the briefcase, and tied the horse. She looked at him and laughed. He’d never seen her laugh before. Her eyebrows went up and her eyes got wide, instead of crinkling up like most people’s did. She looked amazed.

In the café, the waitress slid a burger and fries in front of Beth Travis and said, “The cook wants to know if that’s your horse out back.”

Chet said it was.

“Can he give it some water?”

He said he’d appreciate it.

“Truck break down?” the waitress asked.

He said no, his truck was all right, and the waitress went away.

Beth Travis turned the long end of the oval plate in his direction, and took up the burger. “Have some fries,” she said. “How come you never eat anything?”

He wanted to say that he wasn’t hungry when he was around her, but he feared she might shy away.

“Why were you afraid of selling shoes?” he asked.

“Have you ever sold shoes? It’s hell.”

“I mean why were you afraid you couldn’t get anything else?”

She looked at the burger as if the answer were in there. Her eyes were almost the same color as her hair and ringed with pale lashes. He had his mother’s dark hair, and he wondered if she thought of him as an Indian boy. “I don’t know,” she said. “Yes, I do know. Because my mother works in a school cafeteria, and my sister works in a hospital laundry, and selling shoes is the nicest job a girl from my family is supposed to get.”

“What about your father?”

“I don’t know him.”

“That’s a sad story.”

“No, it’s not,” she said. “It’s a happy story. I’m a lawyer, see, with a wonderful job driving to fucking Glendive every fifteen minutes until I lose my mind.” She put down the burger and pressed the backs of her hands into her eyes. Her fingers were greasy and one had ketchup on it. She took her hands away from her face and looked at her watch. “It’s ten o’clock,” she said. “I won’t get home before seven-thirty in the morning. There are deer on the road, and there’s black ice outside of Three Forks along the river. If I make it past there, I get to take a shower, get dressed, and go to work at eight, and do all the crap no one else wants to do. Then learn more school law tomorrow night, then leave work the next day before lunch and drive back here, with my eyes twitching. It’s better than a hospital laundry, maybe, but it’s not a whole fucking lot better.”

“I’m from near Three Forks.”

“So you know the ice.”

He nodded.

She dipped her napkin in her water glass and washed off her fingers, then finished her coffee. “It was nice of you to bring the horse,” she said. “Will you take me back to my car?”

Outside, he swung her up onto the horse again, and she put her arms around his waist. She seemed to fit to his body like a puzzle piece. He rode slowly back to the school parking lot, not wanting to let her go. Next to the yellow Datsun, he held her hand tight while she climbed down, and then he dismounted, too. She tugged her puffy coat where it had ridden up, and they stood looking at each other.

“Thank you,” she said.

He nodded. He wanted to kiss her but couldn’t see any clear path to that happening. He wished he had practiced, with the high-school girls or the friendly secretaries, just to be ready for this moment.

She started to say something, but in his nervousness he cut her off. “See you Thursday,” he said.

She paused before nodding, and he took this for encouragement. He caught up her hand again and kissed it, and it was soft and cold. Then he leaned over and kissed her cheek, because he had wanted to do that, too. She didn’t move, not an inch, and he was about to kiss her for real when she seemed to snap out of a trance, and stepped away from him. She took her hand back. “I have to go,” she said, and she went around to the driver’s side of the Datsun.

He held the horse while she drove out of the parking lot, and kicked at the snow. The horse sidestepped away. He felt like jumping up and down, in excitement and anxiety and anguish. He had run her off. He shouldn’t have kissed her. He should have kissed her more. He should have let her say what she wanted to say. He mounted up and rode home.

Thursday night he drove the truck in, no cowboy antics; he was on a serious mission. He was going to answer her questions honestly. He was going to let her say the things she intended to say. He didn’t wait for the crowd to arrive before going into the classroom; he went in early and took his seat in the back. The classroom filled up, and then a tall man in a gray suit with a bowling-ball gut came in, and stood behind the teacher’s desk.

“Miss Travis,” he said, “found the drive from Missoula too arduous, so I will take over the class for the rest of the term. I practice law here in town. As some of you know, and the rest of you would find out soon enough, I’m recently divorced and have some time on my hands. That’s why I’m here.”

While the man talked on, Chet got up from his seat and made his way up the aisle to the door. Outside, he stood breathing the cold air into his lungs. The lights of town swam in his eyes until he blinked them clear again and climbed into the rancher’s truck. He started it and looked at the odometer: 156,358 miles. He gave it enough gas so the engine wouldn’t quit, and it coughed and steadied itself and ran.

He knew that Beth Travis lived in Missoula, six hundred miles west, over the mountains, but he didn’t know where. He didn’t know if the truck would make it all that way, or what the rancher would do when he found out he’d gone. He didn’t know if it was he who had scared her off or the drive.

But he put the truck in gear and pulled out of town in the direction he had three times watched the yellow Datsun go. The road was flat and straight and seemed to roll underneath the truck, dark and silent, through a dark and silent expanse of snow-covered land. He stopped outside of Miles City, and again outside of Billings, and hobbled around on his stiffened-up leg until he could drive again. Near Big Timber, the plains ended and the mountains began, black shapes rising up against the stars. He stopped in Bozeman for coffee and gas, and drove the white line on the empty road past Logan and Three Forks, to stay out of the ice that spread from the shoulder in black sheets. Somewhere off to his right, his parents were sleeping.

It was still dark when he reached Missoula, and he took the side streets, hoping he might happen on a yellow Datsun parked outside a house. He stopped at a minimart and looked up “Travis” in the phone book, and there was a Travis B with a phone number, but no address. He wrote down the number with a borrowed pen, but didn’t call it. He asked the kid at the cash register where the law offices were in town, and the kid shrugged and said, “Maybe downtown.”

“Where’s that?”

The kid stared at him. “It’s downtown,” he said, and he pointed off to his left.

Downtown, Chet found himself in dawn light among shops and old brick buildings and one-way streets. He parked in a one-hour parking spot and got out to stretch his hip. The mountains were so close they made him feel claustrophobic. When he found a carved wooden sign saying “Attorneys at Law,” he asked the secretary who came to open the office if she knew a lawyer named Beth Travis.

The secretary looked at his twisted leg, his boots, and his coat, and shook her head.

In the next law office, the secretary was friendlier. She called the law school and asked where Beth Travis had gone to work, then cupped her hand over the receiver. “She took a teaching job in Glendive.”

“She has another job, too. Here.”

The secretary relayed this information over the phone, then wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to him.

“Down by the old railroad depot,” she said, pointing toward the window with her pencil.

“Can I walk there?”

She glanced at his legs and smiled, embarrassed, when she saw him notice.

“I’ll drive,” he said.

“Good luck.”

He pulled up at the address on the piece of paper at eight-thirty, just as Beth Travis’s yellow Datsun pulled into the same parking lot. He got out of the truck feeling jittery. She was rummaging in her briefcase, and didn’t see him. Then she looked up. She looked at the truck behind him, then back at him again.

“I drove over,” he said.

“I thought I was in the wrong place,” she said. She let the briefcase hang at her side. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

She nodded, slowly. He stood as straight as he could. She lived in another world from him. You could fly to Hawaii or France in less time than it took to do that drive. Her world had lawyers, downtowns, and mountains in it. His world had horses that had woken up hungry, and cows waiting in the snow, and it was going to be ten hours before he could get back to get them fed.

“I was sorry you stopped teaching the class,” he said. “I looked forward to it, those nights.”

“It wasn’t because—” she said. “I meant to tell you on Tuesday. I’d already asked for a replacement, because of the drive. They found one yesterday.”

“O.K.,” he said. “That drive is pretty bad.”

“You see?”

A man in a dark suit got out of a silver car and looked over at them, sizing Chet up. Beth Travis waved and smiled. The man nodded, looked at Chet again, and went into the building; the door closed. Chet suddenly wished that she had quit teaching the class because of him. He shifted his weight. She pushed her hair out of her face and he thought he could step forward and touch her hand, touch the back of her neck where the hair grew darker. Instead he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. She seemed to scan the parking lot before looking at him again.

“I don’t mean any harm,” he said.

“O.K.”

“I have to go feed now,” he said. “I just knew that if I didn’t start driving I wasn’t going to see you again, and I didn’t want that. That’s all.”

She nodded. He waited, thinking she might say something. He wanted to hear her voice again. He wanted to touch her, any part of her, her arms, maybe, her waist. She stood just out of reach, waiting for him to go.

Finally, he climbed up into the truck and started the engine. She was still watching him from the parking lot as he drove away, and he thought about driving back, but he didn’t. He got on the highway and left town. For the first half hour he gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, and glared at the road as the truck swallowed it up. Then suddenly he was too tired to be angry, and his eyes started to close and jerk open. He nearly drove off the road. In Butte, he bought a cup of black coffee, and drank it standing next to the truck. He wished he hadn’t seen her right away in the parking lot. He wished he’d had a minute to prepare. He crushed the paper coffee cup and threw it away.

As he drove past Logan, he thought about stopping, but he didn’t. He knew what his parents would say. His mother would worry about his health, driving all night, her sickly son, risking his life. “You don’t even know this white girl,” she’d say. His father would say, “Jesus, Chet, you left the horses without water all day?”

Back at the Hayden place, he fed and watered the horses, and they seemed all right. None of them had kicked through their stalls. He rigged them up in the harness, and loaded the sled with hay, and they dragged it out of the barn. He cut the orange twine on each bale with a knife and pitched the hay off the sled for the cows. The horses trudged uncomplainingly, and he thought about the skittery two-year-olds who’d kicked him everywhere there was to kick, when he was fourteen. The ache in his stomach felt like that. But he hadn’t been treated unfairly by Beth Travis; he didn’t know what he had expected. If she had asked him to stay, he would have had to leave anyway. It was the finality of the conversation, and the protective look that the man in the dark suit had given her, that left him feeling sore and bruised.

In the barn, he talked to the horses, and kept close to their hind legs when he moved behind them. They were sensible horses, immune to surprise, but he had left them without water all day. He gave them each another coffee canful of grain, which slid yellow over itself into their buckets.

He walked back outside, into the dark, and looked out over the flat stretch of land beyond the fences. The moon was up, and the fields were shadowy blue, dotted with cows. His hip was stiff and sore. He had to pee, and he walked away from the barn and watched the small steaming crater form in the snow. He wondered if maybe he had planted a seed, with Beth Travis, by demonstrating his seriousness to her. She wouldn’t come back—it was impossible to imagine her doing that drive again, for any reason. But she knew where he was, and his parents and his uncle were the only Morans in Logan. She was a lawyer. She could find him if she wanted.

But she wouldn’t. That was the thing that made him ache. He buttoned his jeans and shifted his hip. He had wanted practice, with girls, and now he had gotten it, but he wished it had felt more like practice. It was getting colder, and he would have to go inside soon. He fished her phone number out of his pocket and studied it awhile in the moonlight, until he knew it by heart and wouldn’t forget it. Then he did what he knew he should do, and rolled it into a ball, and threw it away. ◇

#long post #hope the paragraph order doesnt get fucked up

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Glacier National Park, often hailed as the "Crown of the Continent," is a pristine wilderness located in the Rocky Mountains of Montana. This vast expanse of natural beauty, covering over a million acres, offers visitors an unparalleled experience of untamed landscapes, diverse wildlife, and awe-inspiring vistas. For those seeking adventure and tranquility alike, Glacier National Park is a destination that promises a journey into the wild like no other.

The Iconic Going-to-the-Sun Road

At the heart of Glacier National Park lies the famous Going-to-the-Sun Road, a 50-mile stretch of highway that winds through the park’s most stunning scenery. This engineering marvel takes travelers on a breathtaking journey through the heart of the Rockies, offering panoramic views of towering peaks, verdant valleys, and glacial lakes. Key stops along the road, such as Logan Pass and St. Mary Lake, provide opportunities to take in the park’s majestic beauty and capture unforgettable memories. The Going-to-the-Sun Road is not just a drive; it’s an immersive experience in one of the world’s most beautiful places.

Hiking in Nature’s Playground

For those who love to explore on foot, Glacier National Park offers a hiker’s paradise with over 700 miles of trails. The park’s trails range from gentle walks to challenging backcountry treks, allowing visitors to tailor their adventures to their own pace and skill level. The Highline Trail is one of the park’s most famous hikes, tracing the Continental Divide and offering dramatic views of the surrounding mountains. Another popular trail, the Grinnell Glacier Trail, takes hikers through lush forests and along crystal-clear streams to the foot of a massive glacier. Whether you’re a seasoned hiker or a casual explorer, Glacier’s trails provide a deep connection to the natural world.

Wildlife in Abundance

Glacier National Park is a sanctuary for an incredible diversity of wildlife. The park is home to more than 70 species of mammals, including grizzly bears, wolves, and mountain goats, as well as over 270 species of birds. Wildlife enthusiasts will be thrilled by the chance to observe these animals in their natural habitats. Whether you’re watching a herd of elk grazing in a meadow or spotting a bald eagle soaring overhead, Glacier National Park offers countless opportunities to encounter the wild side of nature.

Glaciers: Echoes of an Icy Past

The glaciers that give the park its name are remnants of the last Ice Age, and though they are gradually receding, they remain a powerful symbol of Glacier National Park’s ancient heritage. Visiting these glaciers, such as the iconic Grinnell Glacier, is a humbling experience that connects you with the earth’s distant past. The park’s glaciers are not only stunning to behold but also serve as a reminder of the dynamic forces that have shaped this landscape over millennia.

A Haven for Conservation

Glacier National Park is more than just a natural wonder; it’s a critical site for conservation. The park’s pristine ecosystems are carefully protected to ensure that its wild landscapes and diverse species continue to thrive for generations to come. Visitors to Glacier National Park are encouraged to follow Leave No Trace principles, helping to preserve the park’s beauty and integrity. As you explore the park, you’ll gain a deeper appreciation for the importance of conservation in maintaining the world’s natural treasures.

Conclusion

Exploring Glacier National Park is a journey into one of the last great wildernesses of North America. From the breathtaking vistas along the Going-to-the-Sun Road to the serene solitude of its hiking trails, Glacier offers an experience of nature in its purest form. As you immerse yourself in the park’s untamed beauty, you’ll understand why Glacier National Park is not just a destination—it’s a journey into the wild that leaves a lasting impression on all who visit.

#triptrove #National Park

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roomchailimited · 24 days

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North America’s Top Hiking Trails: From Rockies to Appalachian

North America is a hiker's paradise, offering some of the most breathtaking trails that traverse diverse landscapes—from the rugged peaks of the Rockies to the rolling hills of the Appalachian Mountains. Whether you're an experienced adventurer or a casual day-tripper, these trails provide the perfect blend of challenge, beauty, and serenity. Let's embark on a journey across the continent to explore the top hiking trails that every nature enthusiast should experience.

The Rockies: Majestic Peaks and Alpine Meadows

The Rocky Mountains stretch across several states and provinces, offering a variety of trails that showcase the region's towering peaks, crystal-clear lakes, and vibrant wildflower meadows. One of the most famous trails in this range is the Highline Trail in Glacier National Park, Montana. This trail offers panoramic views of the surrounding mountains and valleys, with opportunities to spot wildlife such as mountain goats and grizzly bears.

In Canada, the Plain of Six Glaciers Trail in Banff National Park, Alberta takes hikers through a stunning landscape of glaciers and alpine scenery, culminating in a cozy tea house where you can rest and take in the view. Both trails exemplify the rugged beauty of the Rockies and are a must for anyone seeking an unforgettable hiking experience.

The Pacific Crest Trail: A Journey from Mexico to Canada

For those looking to undertake a long-distance adventure, the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) is one of the most iconic hikes in North America. Spanning over 2,650 miles from the Mexican border to Canada, the PCT traverses diverse ecosystems, from the arid deserts of Southern California to the lush forests of the Pacific Northwest.

One of the trail's highlights is the section through the Sierra Nevada Mountains, where hikers are treated to breathtaking views of granite peaks, pristine alpine lakes, and ancient sequoias. The PCT is a true test of endurance and determination, but the rewards are immeasurable for those who complete it.

The Appalachian Trail: A Historic Pathway through the Eastern U.S.

The Appalachian Trail (AT) is one of the oldest and most beloved hiking trails in the United States, stretching over 2,190 miles from Georgia to Maine. This trail offers a unique blend of natural beauty and historical significance, winding through dense forests, across rolling hills, and over rocky ridges.

One of the most popular sections of the AT is the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, where hikers can experience the lush, misty forests and abundant wildlife of this UNESCO World Heritage Site. Another iconic section is the White Mountains of New Hampshire, where the trail ascends some of the highest peaks in the Northeast, offering panoramic views and challenging terrain.

The John Muir Trail: California’s Crown Jewel

Named after the famous naturalist, the John Muir Trail (JMT) is a 211-mile trail that runs through the heart of California's Sierra Nevada Mountains. The JMT is renowned for its stunning scenery, including towering granite cliffs, sparkling lakes, and lush meadows.

Starting in Yosemite Valley, the trail passes through some of the most iconic landscapes in the Sierra Nevada, including the Ansel Adams Wilderness, Kings Canyon, and Sequoia National Park. The journey culminates at the summit of Mount Whitney, the highest peak in the contiguous United States. The JMT is a bucket-list hike for many, offering solitude and unparalleled beauty.

The Long Trail: Vermont’s Green Mountain Adventure

The Long Trail in Vermont is the oldest long-distance hiking trail in the United States, stretching 273 miles along the spine of the Green Mountains. The trail offers a mix of challenging ascents, rolling terrain, and peaceful forested sections.

Hikers on the Long Trail can enjoy the serene beauty of Vermont's wilderness, with opportunities to spot wildlife, such as moose and black bears, and to take in the stunning fall foliage. The trail's rugged beauty and historical significance make it a must-do for any serious hiker.

Conclusion: Embrace the Adventure with Roomchai Limited

From the Rockies to the Appalachian, North America’s hiking trails offer something for everyone, whether you’re seeking a peaceful walk in the woods or a challenging mountain ascent. These trails not only showcase the continent’s natural beauty but also provide a sense of accomplishment and connection to the land.

At Roomchai Limited, we offer tailored hiking adventures that allow you to explore these iconic trails at your own pace. Whether you’re looking for a guided tour or a customized itinerary, we’re here to help you embark on the hiking journey of a lifetime.

#roomchailimited #travel #traveltips #dhakatravel #bangladeshitravelers #travelagencies #north america #hiking

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rokhopr · 5 months

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Exploring the Best Backpacking Trails in the United States

Backpacking is a thrilling adventure that allows you to connect with nature, challenge yourself physically, and immerse yourself in breathtaking landscapes. The United States is home to a diverse range of backpacking trails, offering something for every level of adventurer. Best Backpacking Places in US From rugged mountain terrain to serene coastal paths, there's no shortage of spectacular destinations to explore. In this article, we'll dive into some of the best backpacking places in the US, perfect for those seeking unforgettable outdoor experiences.

Appalachian Trail

Stretching over 2,000 miles from Georgia to Maine, the Appalachian Trail is a legendary backpacking route that traverses diverse ecosystems, picturesque forests, and stunning mountain ranges. This iconic trail offers hikers a chance to experience the beauty of the Eastern United States while challenging themselves with varying terrain and elevations.

Pacific Crest Trail

For those looking for a West Coast adventure, the Pacific Crest Trail is a must-visit destination. Extending from the border of Mexico to Canada, this trail spans over 2,600 miles and showcases the beauty of the Pacific states. Hikers can expect breathtaking views of snow-capped peaks, lush forests, and alpine meadows along this epic journey.

Glacier National Park

Located in Montana, Glacier National Park is a paradise for backpackers seeking pristine wilderness and rugged mountain landscapes. With over 700 miles of trails, including the famous Highline Trail and the challenging Grinnell Glacier Trail, this park offers unparalleled opportunities for adventure and exploration.

Yosemite National Park

Yosemite National Park in California is another top backpacking destination, renowned for its towering granite cliffs, majestic waterfalls, and ancient sequoia trees. The park boasts a network of trails, including the iconic John Muir Trail and the challenging Half Dome hike, providing hikers with unforgettable experiences in one of America's most beloved wilderness areas.

Grand Canyon National Park

The Grand Canyon is a world-famous natural wonder, and backpacking through its vast expanse is an experience like no other. The park offers a range of backpacking trails, from challenging rim-to-rim hikes to remote backcountry routes, allowing adventurers to witness the canyon's awe-inspiring beauty up close.

Zion National Park

Utah's Zion National Park is a haven for outdoor enthusiasts, with its towering sandstone cliffs, narrow slot canyons, and verdant valleys. Backpackers can explore trails like the Zion Narrows, where they wade through the Virgin River amidst towering canyon walls, creating a truly immersive and unforgettable experience.

Olympic National Park

In Washington state, Olympic National Park offers a diverse range of ecosystems, from lush rainforests to rugged coastline and alpine meadows. Backpackers can trek through the Hoh Rainforest, hike to the summit of Mount Olympus, or explore the stunning beaches along the park's coastline.

Denali National Park

For those seeking a wilderness adventure in Alaska, Denali National Park is the ultimate destination. Home to North America's tallest peak, Mount Denali, this park offers remote backpacking experiences amidst breathtaking tundra landscapes, vast glaciers, and abundant wildlife.

Conclusion

The United States is a treasure trove of backpacking opportunities, with each trail offering its own unique beauty and challenges. Whether you're a seasoned backpacker looking for a new adventure or a beginner seeking to explore the great outdoors, Best Backpacking Places in US these destinations promise unforgettable experiences and breathtaking views. Lace up your hiking boots, pack your backpack, and embark on an epic journey through some of the best backpacking places in the US.

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nomarsfinery · 7 months

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: The North Face Highline Beanie Gray Merino Wool Hat.

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seattlereddit · 10 months

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Defenders of North SeaTac Park: Community members, 14 elected officials & 61 organizations & businesses, signed the Community Forest Consensus, which calls for permanently protecting all 220 acres of North SeaTac Park and ecosystem within the park and in the surrounding Highline community.

https://www.reddit.com/r/SeattleWA/comments/18clu3g/defenders_of_north_seatac_park_community_members/?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

#seattle

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totalpremieroh · 1 year

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Total Premier Contracting

Website: https://waterheaternorthcanton.com Address: 5920 Highline Ave NW, North Canton, Oh 44720 Phone: (330) 935-5979 Business Email: [email protected] At Total Premier Contracting, we understand the importance of a reliable hot water supply, especially in the cold winters of North Canton, Ohio. We are your local experts in water heater replacement, committed to delivering top-notch service to keep your home comfortable.

Why choose Total Premier Contracting for your water heater needs?

Expertise: Our team of skilled technicians has extensive experience in water heater installation and replacement. We stay up-to-date with the latest industry trends to ensure your new unit is energy-efficient and cost-effective.

Reliable Service: We prioritize your comfort and convenience. When you choose us, expect punctual arrivals and efficient installations, minimizing disruption to your daily routine.

Quality Products: We work with trusted manufacturers to provide you with high-quality water heaters that are built to last. Our selection includes various sizes and energy-efficient options to suit your needs and budget.

Transparent Pricing: We believe in fair and transparent pricing. You'll receive a detailed estimate upfront, so there are no surprises when it comes to the cost of your water heater replacement.

Customer Satisfaction: Total Premier Contracting is dedicated to your satisfaction. We ensure every job is completed to the highest standards, and our friendly team is always ready to address your questions and concerns. When it's time to replace your water heater in North Canton, Ohio, trust Total Premier Contracting to deliver reliable service and quality products. Contact us today for a free consultation and experience the difference that comes with choosing a local, customer-focused company. Your comfort is our priority! #water heater replacement North Canton#water heater replacement#water heater North Canton

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todo-deporte · 2 years

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The North Face Gorro Reversible Highline Verde de venta en Todo-Deporte.com https://www.todo-deporte.com/es/gorros-guantes/the-north-face-gorro-reversible-highline-verde

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andrewridley · 5 years

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The Highline Trail, Glacier National Park, Montana, USA.

#highline trail #glacier national park #montana #usa #united states #national park #outdoors #the great outdoors #mountains #hiking #hike #olympus #america #north america #travel #explore more #myolympus #vscofilm #vsco

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samuelmrtn · 7 years

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Golden mornings up in the gorge

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is-the-primate-vid-cute · 2 years

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do you have any thoughts on the orangutan center at the indianapolis zoo? when i was younger it made me sad but i've now learned that zoos do in fact have the animal's best interests in mind so I'm wondering how that exhibit compares to other orangutan exhibits

All photos via Indianapolis Zoo

1 Community Plaza

2 R. B. Annis Atrium

3 Efroymson Family Exploration Hub: Meet orangutans up close and find out how you can protect them.

4 Cognitive Interaction Station: Work together with an orangutan using interactive technology.

5 Tim M. Solso Learning Studio: Watch as orangutans demonstrate their complex mental abilities.

6 Myrta Pulliam Hutan Trail: This tower and cable system allows orangutans to travel naturally throughout the Center.

7 North Oasis: An Oasis is a space where orangutans can choose to spend time on their own or in small groups.

8 West Oasis

9 East Oasis

10 Skyline Ride: Get an orangutan's view of the Simon Skjodt International Orangutan Center.

Okay this is actually amazing. The best habitats utilize choice and natural behaviors; these orangutans can choose their space and travel there via highlines that simulate the vines and branches orangutans would use in the wild. 10/10!

#mod E #indianapolis zoo #inquiring minds want to know #orangutan

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comebeonetwothree · 3 years

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Blog #8: Country Roads

07/13/2021

Currently driving through roads where pro-life billboards are placed in front of graveyards… we are officially on the road back home.

Traveling fast but seeing the most we have while covering 1,500 miles and two time zones in the last week. 900 miles to go. We jumped from Portland to northern and southern Montana then all the way through to Chicago… our last stop ;(

We met some really nice people out here- the kind of people that want to take time out of their day to interact with you. People actually smile at you and mean it when they say “have a good day.”

There were a lot of experiences this week that were indescribable. All senses were at full throttle from sleeping in the heart of Portland to camping in National Parks.

Being our last stretch of the trip, it has been hard to not feel sad when we are closing such a big chapter of our life. It’s a weird feeling of being sad but also still being so excited for the next stop. I hope the excitement doesn’t end.

Who

Who is ready to rumble…

In Portland we got to meet up with Maya’s cousin, Michael and his daughter Thea. He moved out there 13 years ago and never looked back.

He was telling us he did a similar trip with his college buddies back in the day and fell in love with the city, so moved there shortly after the trip.

Sounds fun, might fuck around and move…

Batman was ready to rumble, and fumble and everything in between. While whitewater rafting in Glacier National Park, we had the pleasure of riding with Batman The Guide. Batman, because you can’t change who you are but if you can always choose Batman.

He had been living in Montana for 17 years after moving from Oregon. He had previously worked in the park as a shuttle bus driver and recently switched over to a whitewater rafting instructor.

He was a funny fucking dude; the whole crew was super hyped but he had a comedic sense that made it an entertaining day.

While on the water, we were joking around and splashing the neighboring rafts, an independent rafter said they will bomb us with beers if we splash them. One of the other people on the boat yelled back, “Are they full beers?” and they responded by launching three full miller lite beers at our raft.

At the end of our tour, Batman gave us the three beers then we dedicated those three beers to him with a funnel.

More Friends!!! Its wild how many people we got to see throughout this trip. Hitting Yellowstone National Park, we met up with Mayas friends from home: Cole, Jamie and Declan.

They were just starting their cross-country trip from Nyack, NY, hitting the Northern route to the southern, vs our trip ending in the North. Funny coincident.

We camped out with them for two nights… it was too beautiful to just stay one night, so we pushed back our trip to badlands and stayed the extra night.

We were all out at this joint called Buffalo Bar, it had a great outdoor area with corn hole, ring toss and puppiesss. There is something so fulfilling in petting random dogs with a beer in your hand.

This one dog I was petting had an exceptional owner who was traveling him across states to bring him home. I spoke with the owner for quite a while, she was so friendly about letting me pet her dog. She really was doing it all, back at home she has three kids and two other dogs.

When people hear about our travels, their reactions usually make us realize how cool it is to have the opportunity to do a trip like this.

Many times they wish they did the same when they were our age, *cough, cough, go travel right now, cough, cough.*

This woman explained how she jumped right into working out of school and has always regretted it. Her children were already teenagers so I told her she should get out there and do it. Traveling her new dog home was a great start to the on-the-go lifestyle, she seemed to be enjoying it.

I later found out she picked up our tables tab… thank you Jennifer, you have a heart of gold and a generous soul. She explained her hopes that her kids will one day get out there and see the world like she always wished, and we were accomplishing. It was a pass it forward request, when I am able to cover the bill of a lovely traveling stranger. I hope I cross paths with this family eventually and pay it forward for her children that may travel.

What

What a reality…

The National Park pass is something you buy and are given access to all the national parks in the US. We got one in the beginning of the trip knowing we would be reaching quite a few parks. Unfortunately, we lost it after just seeing the Grand canyon.

It fell in a black hole… the area where your dashboard and windshield meet. Remember this when you put shit on the dashboard. It can slide right down to its death, the only way to get the shit out is by taking off the windshield.

Those passes are irreplaceable, of course.

In badlands, we posted up around 10 p.m. in our hammocks. It was a new experience for us, we thought hey its our last time camping, lets try it a new way.

We set our hammocks up underneath this podium and slept there. It was perfect for a quick and easy set up/clean up. There was a solid amount of people around us, so we weren't too worried about getting attacked by coyotes again.

Where

When driving to Portland we drove through the Redwood National Forest. This made me realize how long this Earth has been around.

Trees take a while to grow, and these trees were as thick as three full grown pine trees and as tall as two stacked on top of each other.

Neck breaking tall.

After crossing through, we hit the upper west coast and traveled on route 101 until we hit Portland. It was filled with jaw dropping views, so much so I woke Mary and Maya up every 5 minutes to show them the views. Most times it was the same view as before, just with a new massive rock to look at.

It was a relatively foggy day, so we couldn’t see certain lookout points, but there was something so majestic about the fog within the forests and hanging on the coast.

There were points where you cross over a bridge and there was nothing around you, just white. It appeared as being stuck in a dream or driving my bitchass to heaven.

Arriving in Portland, we stayed at a place in ChinaTown. It was so cute and located on top of a great deli, Charlie’s Deli.

We checked out a bunch of shops and stores while in Portland. While we were walking around, this coffee shop had the sweetest workers. They enjoyed interacting with their customers and weren’t just looking to take your money.

Portland is filled with mockingly friendly people, they weren’t mocking anyone though, they were just that fucking friendly. They actually want to converse with people... what a concept.

For dinner we went to this food truck pod place, which is about 15 different food trucks serving food, with a communal sitting area to eat the food.

We met up with Maya’s cousin there for a drink and to catch up.

Hitting Glacier National Park, we started our camping excursion. We started off sleeping in our car since we arrived late to our campground after driving 10 hours to get there. It was pretty comfortable and with the knowledge of bear attacks in the area, it was a secure place to sleep.

While in Glacier, we decided to go whitewater rafting, a whole new way of seeing the parks. It was so dope, the rapids were on the weak side since the heat waves.

After rafting, we found a great lake front public access point where we hung our hammocks up and took a nice long nap.

There are lakes EVERYWHERE here in Montana and great fishing! Let’s travel and fish all over Montana, okay? Cool.

We waited until 5 p.m. when the park lets you in without a pass, to do a sunset hike in the park. We took Going-to-the-sun road to the highline hike, where we got to see some wild animals!

In the parking lot we got to see a horned sheep (looks like a ram) and more mountain goats!! We saw three full grown goats and one baby goat.

This horned sheep actually stormed at us and we had to jump into our car. The people that parked in the spot before us left their cheetos on the ground. This guy was hungry as fuck I guess. Relentless to say the least.

This National Park is my new favorite spot-on Earth. Spread my ashes here. Moseying through the park was a full body experience.

All your senses are involved, the smells of the forest are beyond refreshing. The touch of the crisp air brings goosebumps to your skin, and the taste of wind in your face emphasizes the overload of oxygen in that area.

There are no commercialized areas for hours outside the park. Just a fuck ton of trees.

The sounds of different birds chirping harmonizes in your ears with the wind blowing and the rocks falling below you. Your sight is spiked the highest out of the senses. These views seemed so unreal they appeared fake. When you finally touch the grounds around you, you realize how really unreal this land is.

Heading to Yellowstone the following day brought a similar element of nostalgia. We camped right outside the park, on the state border lines of Wyoming and Idaho.

Our friends we stayed with luckily still had their national park pass, so we all took our car and got into the park early that next morning. We got to see some bison! Fun Fact: Bison and Buffalos are actually the same thing.

There were so many beautiful trees and hot springs throughout the park. So many cool colors to see. We also watched Old Faithful blow her hole!!

Getting to Badlands eventually, we got a campground directly in the park. Since we got there later than five it was free. We posted up our hammocks for our last night camping on the trip ;( when we woke up, the views were so cool.

Badlands is a shit ton of clay forming giant sandcastle hills all over. But there is so much green for a desert it was an interesting combination.

When

When can we shower…

We have completed so much of the drive home its wild. We stayed in an apartment for the first two nights in Portland and then spent the rest of the week camping.

We hit our record of days without a shower… 5 full ass days. I’m so proud of Mary and Maya, they really can’t stand being dirty.

When driving long ass 10 hour plus drives for a week you find yourself enjoying nothingness. Head empty is such a vibe after jamming to music and listening to murder mystery podcasts for hours on end.

Our music ranges widely, depending on crashing periods. Whenever Mary is driving, she is either blasting screamo edm music or 2000s pop music.

Maya plays some bomb bops; I really don’t know any of the songs, but it has opened my mind to all these new artists!!

I personally love the murder mystery podcasts, there were a few times I had to change it though because it got too spooky. In the case of this week, we were driving to camp in Montana and a murder mystery came on about the Montana Child Killer… dope.

Why

I have ruled out ever living in a city. From the driving on busy ass streets to the dirty smells everywhere, I will happily reside somewhere in the country. Where? Still have no idea… Why? Because there are so many pros and cons to all these places we saw.

I guess i'll just have to come back out here!

I’m really thinking somewhere up north on the west coast. The west coast will forever hold my heart, but I really don’t have the money or the ability to live in a city out there. Maybe one day with a bombass money making job.

Coming back to the East has made me realize how much nicer people are out west and how much slower of a pace it is.

How

How are we coming up on our last spot…

We are hitting our last stop… Chicago. Shoutout to my cousin for going to school here and letting us use and abuse his apartment! Hehe just kidding we will take care of it for ya, Owen!

It feels so strange to be this close to New York. Our license plates being from New York is no longer that cool.

I’m going to miss people peeping our plates and asking us about our travels and/or wishing us luck!

Thanks everyone throughout, we are almost accomplished with this chapter!

#blogging for beginners #fuck it #post grad #cross country #jubilation #travel #beginners guide #covid made me do it #road trip #bloggersdiaries

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atlanticcanada · 4 years

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'Queen of the North Atlantic:' Nova Scotia schooner Bluenose launched 100 years ago

It is Canada's most famous ship, a national icon that calls to mind the romance of the age of sail and the tenacity of those who make their living on the North Atlantic.

Known for its graceful lines and its crews' uncanny ability to win races, the Grand Banks fishing schooner Bluenose was launched in Lunenburg, N.S., 100 years ago -- on March 26, 1921.

The origins of the two-masted vessel can be traced to July 1920, when Nova Scotians were stunned to learn organizers of the America's Cup -- a prestigious yacht race held off New York harbour -- had postponed some races because the wind was considered too strong at 23 knots.

For those who regularly fished the shallow banks off Canada's east coast, that was considered just a stiff breeze.

"These fine, highly tuned and temperamental yachts could only perform under certain conditions," says Roger Marsters, curator of marine history at the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic in Halifax.

"By contrast, people involved in the banks fisheries were out there under the most appalling conditions, routinely ....There was a degree of professional disdain."

Alan Creaser, chairman of the Bluenose 100 celebration committee, agrees.

"The fishermen here said, 'This is ridiculous. We sail in 20 knots or 30 knots, whatever we get. Let's have a race for real sailors."'

And so it was with a mild sense of contempt that William H. Dennis, publisher of the Halifax Herald, decided a race was needed for working fishing schooners. Aside from boosting newspaper sales, the event was created to lift people's spirits, as Canadians were still struggling in the wake of the First World War and Spanish flu pandemic.

In the fall of 1920, elimination races were held, and the winning fishing schooner, Lunenburg-based Delawana, earned the right to compete in the first International Fishermen's Cup Races.

The rules included a stipulation that competing vessels had to have fished on the banks for at least one season. The fancy yachts from New York weren't welcome.

A challenge was issued to the residents of Gloucester, Mass., a coastal community that shares a long-standing rivalry with Lunenburg's historic fishing fleet. The Americans dispatched the schooner Esperanto to compete off Halifax in October 1920.

Esperanto won two consecutive races and the big trophy was hauled back to the United States, along with $4,000 in prize money. U.S. Vice-President Calvin Coolidge described the victory as a "Triumph of Americanism!"

Stung by the loss, a business partnership was immediately formed in Halifax. Plans for a new schooner were drafted, and the keel for Bluenose was laid a few months later on Dec. 18, 1920. Construction was completed at the Smith and Rhuland shipyard in Lunenburg in just 97 days.

"That desire to win was built into the Bluenose's DNA," Marsters says.

The ship's eight sails measured more than 10,000 square feet. Its mainmast and attached topmast towered 38 metres above the deck -- taller than a 10-storey building.

"With all the sails hoisted ... it's a big, powerful piece of technology, even though it's now an obsolete technology," says Marsters. "It's one that can still induce awe."

In April 1921, Bluenose set sail for its first fishing season with about 20 crew members and Captain Angus Walters of Lunenburg at the helm.

Phil Watson, captain of Lunenburg's replica Bluenose II, says the ship's self-taught designer, naval architect William James Roue of Halifax, created a swift vessel famous for hauling in some of the town's largest catches of fish, earning Walters a reputation as a "highliner."

After completing three fishing trips to the banks in September 1921, Bluenose returned to Lunenburg and won two elimination races against other Nova Scotia schooners.

Elsie, a schooner from Gloucester, was sent to Nova Scotia to compete against Bluenose for the International Fishermen's Trophy in late October.

The races attracted attention from the newspapers in New York City. There were live dispatches via telegraph, and on the streets of Halifax and Lunenburg, small models of the two ships were moved about to capture the drama on the 64-kilometre course.

Though the American ship took an early lead in two races, Bluenose came from behind both times to win the cup, crossing the finish line in Halifax harbour as a huge crowd roared.

"Halifax went wild," author Monica Graham wrote in her book, "Bluenose."

"Captain Walters sailed home to Lunenburg with the trophy .... But work didn't stop for the skipper of the fastest fishing schooner in the North Atlantic. Bluenose exchanged racing gear for working sails .... It was business as usual for the fishermen, but the rest of the world was Bluenose-crazy."

Crowned as the "Queen of the North Atlantic," the name Bluenose started appearing on all manner of products, including skis, ginger ale, milk and underwear.

"It gave a lot of hope to a lot of people, and the country was still fairly young," says Creaser, whose group is part of the Lunenburg Marine Museum Society, owner of Bluenose II.

"This story resonated with Canadians. It's about hard work, perseverance, struggle and a success for the whole country to celebrate."

The schooner's racing history and its fishing prowess have become the stuff of legend. Under Walter's command, Bluenose won the cup again in 1922 and held the title in 1923, though the latter series was declared a draw on a technicality.

It would be another seven years before Bluenose raced in an official competition, though informal races on the fishing grounds were common.

The ship's only international series defeat was recorded in 1930, when the Boston schooner Gertrude L. Thebaud won the Lipton Cup off Gloucester.

But when it came to the International Fishermen's Cup Races series, Bluenose was never beaten. She outraced Thebaud for the trophy in 1931 and 1938, Bluenose's final race.

There are many theories as to why the ship was so fast. There's speculation it had something to do with its well-placed ballast, or its upturned bow.

Bluenose was immortalized on the Canadian dime in 1937. In all, the ship survived about a dozen fishing seasons, though it was almost wrecked off Sable Island in 1926.

"I would like to say that Bluenose was not only a racer, but she was a worker," Walters said in a letter he wrote in 1963. "She paid back every dollar that was put into her and with good interest too."

In her twilight years, Walters purchased the vessel and appealed to the Canadian and Nova Scotia governments to provide for its upkeep. But with the outbreak of the Second World War, the two governments had more pressing concerns.

Bluenose was sold to the West Indies Trading Company in 1942. Its masts were cut down, engines were added and it was used as a tramp freighter until it struck a reef and was wrecked off Haiti in 1946.

This report by The Canadian Press was first published March 25, 2021.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/2QMiGaN

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