<< Back 9/4/02 For all its splendor, the West ain’t Carolina By John Beckman Sometimes we all need to step back in order to see what’s going on around us. When we’re right on top of something it is easy to lose sight of how it relates to all things around it, the proverbial “can’t see the forest for the trees” concept. A change of scenery can help us to look at things in a different way, to focus on what might be difficult to see when it’s too close to our face for our eyes — or minds — to work properly. Perceptions change when we find a different angle or light from which to view things, and sometimes that is all that’s required to set things right. The heat of summer can get to be overbearing for some when mixed with the high humidity of southern climates. Many folks living further south of the mountains and in lower elevations flock to our area in search of a reprieve from the scald of summer’s sizzle. For local residents, the warmest days can be a little hard to bear since cooler and more comfortable temperatures are more the norm. We forget that it’s hotter yet just about everywhere else, except Alaska and maybe the Rocky Mountains. With family living in Montana, we opted for the latter and set out a few weeks back for Glacier National Park. After several hours, connections and airport tours, we landed in Missoula, flopped into the rental car and headed two hours north to Whitefish. Montana is a big state and even a small distance on the map translates into a fair amount of territory. The “Big Sky State” is an appropriate slogan for a place with vast prairies in the east and huge mountains in the west. The wide flat valleys through which we drove gave way to massive rocky spires on either side which still held onto their snow in places, seemingly unaware it was the middle of summer. The nearly barren, dry landscape seemed to accentuate the massive amount of blue which filled everything in between. Logic tells me there is the same quantity of sky everywhere, but my eyes were sending a different message to my brain. We found Katie and Paul’s house still under construction, only 20 miles east of the park, and were greeted by their profoundly active 2-year-old son, Finn. “Let the commotion begin,” I whispered to my wife. Not having been around small children in some time, one forgets that constant movement, chatter and attention are part and parcel of being two and a half. We walked through the garage/shop, past the sawdust and tools, and into a very western-style kitchen replete with big, heavy beams, horseshoe hardware and log walls. There is definitely a different flavor to their construction systems out west. The simplistic Appalachian farmhouse designs I favor are virtually nonexistent, as are the lush, moist, leafy hillsides. This big, high, dry stuff looked weird. The next day we loaded into the car and headed for the park, without Katie, who took advantage of the new babysitters for a day off. “Have a good time!” she called as we backed out the river rock driveway. Glacier National Park has inspired visitors since its inception in 1910, and all of us were awed by the huge, majestic, snow-capped peaks rising thousands of feet above us as we wound around a nearly impossible-to-construct road. Tourists of many tongues joined in with a stream of Harleys and license plates from across the country to travel the famed “Going to the Sun Road.” For nature lovers like my wife and I, it was indeed a sight to behold; massive rock fingers scraping at the enormous sky, valleys deep enough to swallow North Carolina counties whole, glaciers flowing down in crystal rivers and 100-foot-tall lodgepole pines by the thousands somehow clinging to the steep rocky slopes. Even Finn was quiet, due either to the breathtaking scenery or the unending bag of Goldfish crackers Mom had sent along. Everything disappeared when we entered the clouds at 6,600 feet. We made it up and back down the inspirational trail, Paul doing his best to convince us most of the way to join them there in Montana. We swam in the cold lakes, played in the intense sun, learned new words from Finn and laughed a lot. Jane and sister Katie talked for hours, I worked alongside Paul building the house and had a great time. The town was fun, the views superb, lots to see and do, but something was missing. Jane and I talked about it, and concluded that it’s a great spot, loved ones are here, glaciers are fabulous, but it lacks the heat, humidity and lush green hills we need to know we’re home in the mountains of North Carolina in the summer. John Beckman is a builder, organic farmer and operations manager at Unahwi Ridge Community in Jackson County. He can be reached at www.unahwiridge.com.