An eventful exit from Flathead Lake

The sign read “Caution: Water over road,” a warning that filled me with dread considering we were in a car with only a couple of inches of clearance.

During a visit to Flathead Lake last week I’d awoken on the morning of our departure to a steady downpour. It was a bit unsettling. After years of drought, I’d become more comfortable with rumors of rain than the real stuff. Now it was pouring, and I was beginning to question our choice of vehicle: Barb’s Mini Cooper convertible.

Instead of taking our big SUV or my lifted pickup on the trip, we thought in light of the high gas prices it would make sense to take the Mini. Now it looked like we were going to have to navigate a stretch of the Flathead River in the little Brit.

The rain hadn’t let up by the time we passed the warning sign in Columbia Falls. With the windshield wipers on high, I could barely make out the mountains shrouded in fog. Raindrops pounded on the convertible top and we had to shout at each other to be heard.

I was reminded of a camping trip to a barrier island on the Gulf of Mexico a few years back where we woke one morning to the drumming of raindrops on the tent. A short while later a ranger stopped by our camp to let us know our boat was sinking.

I got there just in time to save it, but by the time we had packed up camp the boat needed bailing out once again.

This was that kind of rain – relentless.

I steeled myself for what might lie ahead, trying not to think about how little water it would take to float a Mini.

The road curved a bit and turned toward the river, which by now was a raging, brown torrent. It remained in its banks, however, and the road ahead, despite being marked by a “Water over road,” sign was clear.

I sped up, glad to get away from the river, and relieved the warning signs had been no more than that.

The rain didn’t let up as we traversed the southern edge of Glacier National Park where, just on cue, three mountain goats emerged out of the downpour, clinging to a rock face just above the highway.

It continued to pour through East Glacier and Browning and didn’t let up until we had passed through Cut Bank.

By the time we got home, the sun was shining and the ground was dry. It was nice to be back to a part of the world where for the most part, rain remains a rumor and a tiny convertible isn’t the stupidest car on the road.

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected]