But that’s not all. Read More to see the most incredible close-up picture of a major lightning strike I’ve ever seen… (warning: it’s almost blinding)

We’ve had a lot of lightning this summer in Colorado. Has it been stormy where you live?

To read the travel journal Sarah wrote about her road trip to Glacier National Park, Read More. As always, feel free to send me photos or links to photos you’d like me to post.

Vacation on a Shoestring

Last Tuesday I left home with no real plan in mind except a vague desire to go somewhere. For inspiration I took “Sacajawea” by Anna Lee Waldo and loaded “A Lady’s Life in the Rocky Mountains” by Isabella L. Bird on my IPod. I am fortunate to live in Wyoming, near the east gate to Yellowstone National Park – a great place to start.

After a tour through Yellowstone where I sat through an hour and 45 minute buffalo jam, and witnessed a hungry grizzly excavating a ground squirrel burrow, I headed though Livingston and north. I took 89 North though rolling prairie to 90 West, then 15 North, which gradually climbed into craggy mountains. Helena National Forest looked like a good place to camp for the night; unfortunately the campground is in a part of the forest blighted by the Mountain Pine Beetle. All the trees were dead and marked to be logged for firewood.

The temperature was perfect for sleeping, however, and Cysko, my faithful golden retriever stood guard all night, greeting me with a tail wag and a wiggle when I opened my eyes. The campground wasn’t pretty and had no amenities other than vault toilets but I didn’t mind as this was not my destination, only a place to catch a few winks before moving on. Best of all the price was right – it was free. Basic rules applied: pack out your trash, observe bear safety and clean up your camp.

The next morning, Wednesday, I headed out towards Great Falls Montana. Great Falls is part of the Lewis and Clark Trail. Here the Corp of Discovery had to portage heavy pirogues over five waterfalls. The interpretive center is well worth the $8.00 entry fee and is built over the Missouri so you can look out at the actual locations. Glancing at my map I discovered I was within a few hours of Glacier National Park. Why not visit? I’d heard for years how beautiful it was so I topped off the tank, tossed a biscuit to Cysko and continued north.

This stretch of I-15 rolls across prairies thick with spring grass, and dotted with vernal pools from snow melt. Montana in spring time is incredibly beautiful. Calves and foals frolic through fields of wildflowers, Canada geese graze beside sandhill cranes, and sharp-shinned Hawks ride the air currents. Often I would come across a picturesque log homestead or rough hewn hay barn, remnants of the settlers who mined and ranched in the area.

At 8:00 PM on Wednesday night I pulled in to a gas station in East Glacier which is on the Blackfeet Indian Reservation. The clerk was visibly surprised when I asked for directions into Glacier National Park. She informed me I was a week too early as most areas do not open until the 23rd and some not until mid June. And that includes campgrounds in and around the park.

Well, what’s an adventure without a bump in the road? The kind clerk did some quick research; good news! Apgar Village near Lake McDonald may be open. Apgar Village is near West Glacier Montana, an hour and a half away over rough roads boarding the Flathead National Forest. It was now nearly 8:15 PM and the sun was slowly but surely sinking in the West. I didn’t relish the prospect of navigating twisty narrow roads populated with elk and deer at dusk, but I couldn’t very well spend the night in the parking lot of the gas station.

The road follows the Flathead River which forms the natural southern border of the park. Snow capped mountains peek above the trees and the sun painted the landscape with golden light. One white-tail gracefully bounded over the guardrail as another nibbled on grass along the berm. I pulled into West Glacier around 9:45 PM. The little town was deserted but a self pay envelope at the entrance gate to the park served the purpose (a 7-day vehicle pass is $25.00). I located a campground, registered and paid $20.00 for a spot using a flashlight to fill out the form as night had finally fallen. It was cold but I was too excited at the prospect of the next day’s adventure to sleep so I read a few chapters from “Sacajawea”, reflecting on the new perspective of her journey I had received from my visit to Great Falls.

Thursday morning dawned bright, crisp and clear. I broke camp thinking I would scout for another site further into the interior of the park to spend the night. Cysko enjoyed a visit from two rangers who couldn’t resist his charm and obliged him with a good scratch behind the ears. I decided to drive to the visitor’s center to pick up a map but was almost immediately side tracked when I rounded a bend in the road. Lake McDonald literally took my breath away!

The lake is nestled at the foot of the Livingston Mountain Range. It fills a valley carved by glaciation and erosion, is 10 miles long and 472 feet deep. The lake is crystal clear; I was fascinated by the smooth, colorful, round pebbles that comprise its shores and bottom. Cysko was fascinated with all that lovely, lovely water. He is a retriever, after all, and simply adores a good swim. Unfortunately for him, dogs are not permitted off-leash so he had to be content with getting his feet wet.

At one point I gave into his pleading eyes and got my feet wet so he could go just a little further into the water (fortunately I was wearing Keen Newport sandals from Sierra Trading Post). He contented himself with plunging his entire head into the water in pursuit of a stick. We spent a lazy day visiting the swollen streams and creeks along the Going to the Sun Road which follows the south eastern edge of the lake. This part of the park is forested with cedar and hemlock.

It was a little early for the wildflowers but thrushes, robins, chickadees, clarks nutcrackers, finches and swifts harmonized in the forest. I had hoped to do a little hiking but most trails were inaccessible this early in the season and dogs are not permitted on the trails. It was tempted to spend another night in the park but as I had explored all the open areas, I decided to move on in the interest of saving another camping fee. Reluctantly, Cysko and I headed out taking route 2 towards Kalispell to 93 South.

My next stop was West Shore State Park just south of Kalispell. This campground is immaculate and lies along the shore of Flathead Lake, the largest natural lake in the western U.S. Flathead Lake is 30 miles long, 16 miles wide and 300 feet deep. It is bordered by the Mission and Salish mountains which are still snow covered this time of year.

I decided to camp here for the night, happily paid the $15.00 fee and splurged on a $4.00 bundle of firewood. A can of ravioli cooked over an open fire is quite delicious, requires no clean up except for your fork, and the can is recyclable. It may not be the healthiest meal but this was vacation after all. Cysko and I enjoyed sitting by the fire, listening to Canada geese and ducks call to each other over the water as the stars came out overhead. Flathead Lake is not as dramatic as Lake McDonald but is lovely just the same. Too bad we didn’t get a glimpse of Nessie’s cousin, the Flathead Lake Monster.

Friday I decided to see how far I could drive though this beautiful country. Highway 93 meanders though ranch country where I saw Montana cowboys riding fences, checking stock, and going about their everyday lives. Cysko rested his head on the center console of my jeep and sighed as I picked up Interstate 90 East towards home and a shower. We were both satisfied with our spur-of-the-moment mini-vacation.

Altogether, I spent less than $300.00 on food, accommodations and gas (mostly gas). Considering it’s hard to find a budget hotel room for less than $60-$80 and a meal for around $12.00, I thought my $35.00 three-night stay a great deal. I packed my own food and chose items that required no cooler and only heat or hot water to prepare. Our national and state parks provide lovely vacation spots. They are rich in history, wildlife, and recreational opportunities. My next vacation is in September; maybe I will take a cue from Mrs. Isabella Bird and visit Estes Park in Colorado.

These storm clouds don’t currently have a name, but meteorologists hope to change that. For more information about the tentatively titled “Asperatus” cloud, Read More.

From the article in the UK’s Mail Online…

These clouds, whipped into fantastical shapes, hang over the darkening landscape like the harbingers of a mighty storm. But despite their stunning and frequent appearances, the formations have yet to be officially recognized with a name. They have been seen all over Britain in different forms – from Snowdonia to the Scottish Highlands – and in other parts of the world such as New Zealand, but usually break up without producing a storm.

And some experts believe the stormy weather phenomenon deserves its very own classification. Experts at the Royal Meteorological Society are now attempting to make it official by naming it ‘Asperatus’ after the Latin word for ‘rough’. If they are successful, it would be the first variety of cloud formation to be given a new label in over half a century.

Photographer and storm chaser Mike Hollingshead of the photo website Extreme Instability is the man behind the camera in this shot. He has a lot of very cool storm photos on his site for sale and stock use. Check it out. (For more about Mike, Read More.)

From the About page on Extreme Instability… “I began storm chasing May 16, 1999 but had always filmed and watched storms from town. Watching storms from town and actually heading out to chase are two very different things. If one ever wants to see amazing storms you’re going to have to drive a lot and often for nothing. Each year I would increase my chases. I’m now to around 40 chases a year, which is more than enough. In 2005 I had just over 18,000 miles dedicated just to chasing storms. In 2006 it was around 22,000 miles which ranged from TX to ND and CO to IN.”

The photo, titled “Fence Scene,” was taken by Rase Littlefield of Cheyenne, Wyoming. Thanks to his wife, Sarah, for the heads up! Though there’s no mention of location, my bet is on Rocky Mountain National Park. To see more of Rase Littlefield’s photography, visit this website and for more info about Littlefield himself, Read more.

“I’m Rase Littlefield, currently living in “windy” Cheyenne,WY. I have been enjoying my photography since December 07. I enjoy shooting all kinds of different scenes and objects and just about anything that catches my eye!! And, trust me, this town does not have a lot to offer so being creative is KEY. So I find myself in Colorado for most of my photos, and man is it beautiful there!!! PHOTOS AND MUSIC are what make me who I am!! I shoot Canon, use hoya filters and a manfrotto tripod.”