Around the Park on snowshoes

During the winter of 1913, Park ranger Norton Pearl completely circled Glacier National Park on snowshoes. His story, used here with permission from his daughter, Dorothy, tells a lot about the early day rangers.

They were not only a tough group of men, but they obviously loved the area as much as any of us do today. In most cases, their word was their bond and was valued by all who knew them. Following is a portion of Pearl’s account:

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“Tuesday the 11th was a fine day. The thermometer has not been above zero in 10 days, and much of the time 30-35 minus. Last night, it was 40 below.

“I got away before daylight and crossed the boundary back into the U.S.A. I passed the old cabin just across the line, where a man was eaten by bears last spring (Slim Link?). I would like to have looked it over, but too much distance was staring me in the face. I expected still to go 20 to 25 miles.

“Today found me nibbling on my lunch often. Also, many times the Kishenehn furnished water for me, though it was hard to get up on the headwaters. Some black-tailed deer are wintering along the creek, and there are many moose. These latter animals are beauties and are adept in deep snow and not much afraid of man.

“Just before reaching the North Fork of the Flathead, I could feel old tracks, which proved to be those of snowshoes. At the river, there was a cross trail, and tracks were more plainly visible.

“There had been two pairs of snowshoes. Seen a little cabin in sight across the river, and there was smoke coming out of its stovepipe. One may imagine what a welcome sight it was after breaking trail from an hour before dawn until dark and nibbling on a cold lunch to keep one’s stomach from wearing through from the friction of the spinal column.

“A shout brought out a man and his dog. The former was seen on a raft paddling across. The river is deep and swift and impossible to ford without swimming.

“There is no inviting in this sparsely settled country. You are supposed to come in as a matter of course. Even the dog was hospitable, and he swam the river to greet me. Then back again to see me safely over.

“The raft held just two and partly sunk at that. On approaching the cabin, the smell of a burning supper was noticeable, which brought out a remark from my host.

“’Good enough anyway. That will do for the dog. I’ll get a real one now.’

“He surely fulfilled his promise. He had just arrived from Belton, a distance of about 50 miles with a load of 125 pounds on a toboggan pulled by the dog. That was some supper. Big thick venison steaks with onions, which he had carried in his pockets to keep them from freezing.

“Main dishes of cooked grub cached in the snow and frozen were dug up and put on to thaw and heat. That was one of the best meals in that little two by twice shack that I ever sat up to.

“Matt Brill was the name of my host. He and Paul Abbott have 160 acres side by side.”

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Matt Brill later expanded his holdings to over 600 acres and operated Kintla Guest Ranch until just after World War II. Today, the little “two by twice” shack still stands, but it and the other Kintla Ranch buildings are melting away, and the land is mostly owned by the U.S. Forest Service.