Letter from the editor
A river runs into it
Not long before I moved to the Flathead, I found myself working as a glorified chauffeur for a weekend.
The University of Montana — my alma mater and then-employer — was hosting a group of environmental journalists who were scoping out potential locations for their 2010 convention. During the Saturday of their stay, I was given the keys to a 15-passenger van and, along with some co-workers, took the group to the university's Yellow Bay Biological Station.
The station's scientists wooed the group while I hijacked a canoe and paddled around the bay. Peering up at the Mission Mountains and down into the clear, green water I had an epiphany: Every day not spent on Flathead Lake was a day wasted.
I know I had it, because I made the comment to my father, who was quick to remind me of it when I relocated to the area two months later.
It's amazing the magnetic power of a great body of water like our Lake, and it takes only a single sunny spring day to bring it blazing back into our consciousness.
Sure, it's somewhat deceptive. There are plenty of winter days when the Lake looks black and menacing, like it's just waiting for you to make one misstep before it swallows you up. In a lot of ways, it is.
With a sometimes embarrassing penchant for being overly dramatic, I have pointed out to loved ones that I've been lucky enough to live near the shores of two of "America's Great Rivers," the Mississippi and the Missouri. It could be argued that since the Swan eventually empties into the Columbia, that I can claim all three 'sorry, Colorado).
A strong believer in the significance of geography, I am inclined to think that the highest level of intimacy a place can earn is simply to become "The." For me, "The River" will always be Northern Arkansas' White River, where my family has a cabin and I spent most of my childhood summers. I realized recently that Flathead Lake has taken on the moniker "The Lake" not just in the jargon of the Valley, but in my mind as the lake that needs no proper name.
During my time in Bigfork, I've heard story after story of vacationers who caught a certain view of the Lake from some vantage point and that moment sealed the deal. They may not have bought a house right then, but it didn't take long. The Lake is a force in this Valley and it's the reason many of us have chosen to call it home. Now that the sun is finally shining, get out and enjoy. After all, it might be why you came here in the first place.
—Alex Strickland