Elmer Searle memories

G. George Ostrom / The Trailwatcher 

For near 30 years, after the age when most men start taking life easy, Elmer Searle began weekly ascents of Glacier Park's peaks with The Over the Hill Gang. He immediately became an institution, record keeper and poet laureate. In best of times and worst, Elmer always came up with a perfect quote from the world of philosophy and verse. He had them for getting lost, "For men continue to go it blind. Following the calf paths of the mind." Even had one for the doctor repairing his hernia, "While fixing my middle, it's best not to fiddle, with things that do not concern a ya."

On a 1986 Glacier hike he became separated from the others. Back together, Elmer was asked where he had been? His reply was mysterious, "I have been where the woodbine twineth and wang doodle mourneth for its mate." That was his stock answer in similar situations over the years. He never told us what a wang doodle was and when questioned, claimed he did not make up such things and showed us writing in a book.

All were impressed by Elmer's unfailing, cheerful, positive attitude. Not just in daunting situations, but toward life in general. And yes, there was plenty of humor along the way. In an early spring climb of Mount Shields, The Gang encountered millions of woodticks and after returning to cars on Highway 2, the weary group sat changing shoes and picking ticks. Most were sipping a cool liquid to fight off dehydration, but Elmer wasn't. He began picking up litterbugged beer and pop cans from the roadside and stamping them flat. Suddenly one exploded, shooting foamy contents high in the air. Then, a cry of dismay. Elmer's life-long friend Hank Good, yelled, "Elmer! You stomped my beer." It was a perfect ending for a memorable day, and we'll never know if Hank's beer was victim of an identification accident … or not.

Elmer was game for hazardous situations. The Gang hiked from Chief Mountain border station to Belly River one fall and after celebrating Ivan O'Neil and Elmer's birthdays, some decided to make the tremendous hike up to Ptarmigan Tunnel and down to Many Glacier where the others would pick them up that evening. That is a long, tiring 15 extra miles, but Elmer decided he was going. We told his group the tunnel might be closed for the winter, and in that case it would be safest to climb over the Ptarmigan Wall east of the tunnel … NOT straight up above the north portal.

Late that day when we picked them up we found they had ignored our suggestion. We asked, "Elmer, how did you ever get up that cliff?" His answer, "I don't know. I just followed those kids up there and prayed a little bit." To get proper perspective, those "kids" were much younger than Elmer, most not even seventy.

About fifteen springs ago, the National Symphony Orchestra came to Flathead and was given a bus tour of Glacier Park. Several members wanted more than "a look," they wanted "to touch." Elmer volunteered to be one of their guides and we hiked the Avalanche Trail. Near the lake, beneath towering cliffs, it began snowing a beautiful, soft, Christmas card snowfall. We sat silently entranced on a cedar log, absorbing the magic of that moment, until a charming young woman cello player began softly speaking:

"Whose woods these are I think I know,

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here,

To see his woods fill up with snow."

The recitation faltered, as the lady sought the next verse, but Elmer came to her rescue:

"My little horse must think it queer,

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake."

Several others on the cedar log joined in for the final verse of this beloved Robert Frost poem.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep.

And miles and miles to go before I sleep,

And miles and miles to go before I sleep."

Needless to say, once again Elmer had carried the day.

Certainly! We're going to miss our friend; yet Elmer will always be there along the trails and on the high peaks, simply because he gave so much of himself to all of us.

And he surely did it for a long … long time.