Memorable Labor Day in 2001

Among other things

By Paul Fugleberg

For whatever reasons, Glacier National Park has escaped the fires of 2007, at least inside the park boundaries.

That wasn't the case in 2001. I remember it well.

Approaching West Glacier on U.S. 2 on Labor Day afternoon in 2001, I was reminded of scenes of the St. Helens eruption 21 years earlier.

The wind-whipped Moose fire obviously was on the loose — again. Billowing thunderhead-like smoke clouds towered over the peaks of Glacier National Park. Below the cloud tops dense smoke layers turned chameleon colors of black, white, orange, gray, brown, bronze and copper depending on how the sunlight struck the various densities of smoke.

At West Glacier a signed proclaimed "Fire Information" at the Canadian visitor center. Inside I took a photo of a young park ranger pointing out mapped fire locations to visitors.

She lamented that normally she's a park photographer but this day had drawn special duty at the fire information desk. Meanwhile, two receptionists at the Canadian counter commented they weren't getting much action. "It's all over there," said one beckoning toward the ranger's desk.

At Apgar village it was business as usual — still a lot of Labor Day visitors who hadn't started home yet. Eddie's Cafe seemed busy and there was a long line at an ice cream cone counter.

Along the lakeshore, people were taking pictures of the smoke plume — which at this point was murky, compared to the sharp contrasting view that could be seen farther away. There was an apparent inversion layer a few thousand feet up and some of the peaks were partially obscured by smoke.

At Lake McDonald Lodge — and elsewhere — were notices that possible evacuations would be required if the fire changed direction. For now it appeared to be burning away from or at least parallel to the lake.

Columns of smoke erupted as the fire burst into new patches of fuel and you'd almost expect to see flames coming over the hill. Fortunately, the fire was still at least 10 to 12 miles away - maybe even more.

An evacuation notice along with a map of the burn area was posted in the boathouse ticket window at the lodge dock.

The historic old hotel setting seemed surreal under the bronze sky and background of dark mountains, behind which the monstrous Moose belched occasional gray and white columns of smoke. On Saturday I had photographed a hotel employee atop the building, hosing down the wood roof as a preventive measure "just in case."

The arrival of the ancient cruise boat DeSmet at the dock provided a poignant picture as she gleamed brightly in the afternoon sunlight, pitching on rolling, whitecapped waves, beneath the shadowy mountains and ominous sky.

It was a memorable Glacier National Park Labor Day.

Barring the unforeseen, Labor Day this year should be a better one.

High school football offers reprieve from corruption of professional sports

From the bleachers

By Zach Urness

These are difficult times for the conscience of sports fans.

For Michael Vick a $130 million contract apparently buys enough free time for torturing, hanging, drowning, electrocuting and murdering dogs not vicious enough to maul each other in his illegal dog fighting operation.

NBA ref Tim Donaghy worked with big time gamblers to fix NBA games in a scheme that sounds like it should have been a Sopranos episode.

Hulking egomaniac Barry Bonds has supplanted one of baseball's most dignified icons, Hank Aaron, as the new home run king.

And that only scratches the surface. Tennessee Titan Pac Man Jones and Chicago Bear Tank Johnson have been suspended from the upcoming NFL season because they can't seem to stop telling their homies to shoot bouncers, starting fights, driving drunk, illegally possessing whole armories of guns, and perhaps worst of all, throwing handfuls of money at strippers — and than trying to take it back!

And speaking of money, a new standard in greed is expected to ensue during baseball's off-season, when Alex Rodriguez will likely opt out of the largest contract in the history of professional sports and sign, you guessed it, the new largest contract in the history of professional sports — likely worth better than $30 million a year.

ESPN hasn't been this depressing since Anna Kournikova stopped making the highlights.

And so, with all this negativity permeating the professional ranks, it is with almost a sigh of relief that we can turn out attention to the Friday night lights of high school football.

Now football is not my favorite sport — that honor goes to baseball and college basketball — but as far as pure atmosphere goes, there is just no topping it.

The first high school games come with the start of the school year, that fantastic time when, for just a moment, the prospect of going back to school isn't quite so awful. The girls are smiling and wearing short-sleeved cotton shirts, showing off their late summer tan and looking innocuously at the crowds of restless boys in Montana Griz sweatshirts who punch each other in the arm and dream of one day dawning their school's colors and taking the field.

The happy sounds of renewed friendship interweave with the pound of shoes on the metallic grandstand, and there is hearty laughter from proud fathers who stand together on the sidelines and make predictions about this year's team.

There is a crisp freshness in the dry fall air during these first game nights. The beauty of orange, yellow and purple colored leaves is only bested by a blood red sunset above the mountains.

On the field, boys who are just short of young men crash into each other with magnificent power. None of them will be paid with any greater currency than the fleeting euphoria of high school popularity, but you'd never know looking at the intensity painted on their faces when they get a butt-chewng from the coach.

It is a new beginning and the end of idle summer dreaminess. It is a time for the celebration of new friends and pure competition. And while it's not always perfect, at least it offers a clean conscience.