Where Sky Touches Ground, Part 1--An Overview

I arrived in the flatlands on the 10^th of September nearly three weeks ago, flying from Kalispell, MT to Salt Lake City, UT where I connected with a flight to Long Beach, CA. I voluntarily took a later flight, changing my initial departure time of 6:45am to a considerably less groggy 12:30 pm flight, landing in California five hours later.

My time in Glacier National Park was a neap tide of spiritual ecstasy and bone clutching misery. With nine crew members running Sperry Chalet, which operates in the 11 week window when the mountain isn’t sheeted in snow, I worked nearly 70 hours a week. The small size of the live-in staff required that every crew member work every day, and every week someone would mutter “TGIF” and we would all try to recall what sleeping in was like.

As a waiter, my day began at 5:50, long before the sun. I used a book light to find my clothes, pull on my boots, hoodie, and flashlight. I slipped out quietly, partly because I shared the room with David and Chris, whose responsibilities did not call them from bed so early, and partly because the walls of the two story, 26 room hotel do little to control sound…Or temperature. During the beginning and end of the season, I could see my breathe indoors.

The hotel sits uphill from the dining room by about 150 yards, with the outhouse between the two. Our altitude was about 6500 feet, and on cloudy mornings we would be swept into the mist; visibility literally became “inches from eyeballs” without a flashlight. I only forgot a light once, found my night-vision lacking, and spent ten minutes tentatively feeling my way down a path I’d walked hundreds of times.

I was due in the dining room at 6:00am, after the usually desperate rush to the toilet. I postulate that the lower air pressure of the high altitude makes it more difficult to retain fluids, because there were more than a few madman sprints out of the hotel, shoes half on.

Once in the dining room, the other waiter (Rachel, until she broke her toe hiking in sandals, at which point Renee took over) and I prepared for breakfast by mixing orange juice concentrate, boiling water for coffee, wiping down tables with bleach water, filling baskets with tea bags, creamer, and sugar, placing said baskets out on tables, setting a napkin, knife, fork, spoon, coffee cup with saucer, water glass, and glass of orange juice, order slip, and golf pencil at each place (having counted how many guests would be joining us), along with a pitcher of water, “maple” syrup, and butter pats for each table. Additionally, we prepared small cups of raisins and brown sugar to go with the oatmeal for those that cared for such fare. We were also responsible for putting sandwiches made the day before in the sack lunches provided to our guests, as well as updating the weather board.

I almost always forgot something, and have probably missed a step in writing this. We opened the doors and served breakfast at 7:00, though early risers would frequently show up to get in my way and generally piss me off. I’m not a morning person. Breakfast goes to 8:30, during which time I pour several gallons of Taster’s Choice while delivering order slips to Teri and Cora, the cook and assistant, who cook eggs and hotcakes/toast (respectively) to order. After breakfast, the wait staff clears and wipes down the tables, refills the syrup pitchers (a crowd of 50 can go through a half gallon of the stuff), refills the tea, sugar, and creamer baskets, washes the hand washing sink and drinking fountain, and helps the dishwasher rinse and put away dishes. On a fast morning, we can be finished by 10:00 am.

Three out of nine days, we also worked the lunch shift, called the A La Carte shift. We sold soup, sandwiches, and drinks. I generally worked as cook during these shifts because I spent so much time on the floor or in the dish station as it was. The lunch shift went from 11:00-5:00, and included making meat sandwiches for sack lunches the next day, baking cookies, and checking in guests as they arrive. We sold lunch to hikers and guests.

Dinner prep started at 5:00pm, so A La Carte days were basically miserable. Dinner prep involves either making name cards for each party so as to prevent a dining room cluster-fuck, or preparing an appetizer for 40-50 people. The appetizer was some sort of salad.

We let the crowd in at 6:00pm, smile and welcome them to dinner, and remind them that parties are assigned to a table. I would then go around and introduce myself.

“How’s everyone doing this evening? Excellent. My name is Ryan, and I’ll be your waiter tonight. Tonight for dinner we’ll begin with black bean/split pea/lentil/turkey noodle/beef barley soup served with onion/Italian parmesan/buttermilk bread. The main course will be (1) roast beef, served with mashed potatoes, gravy, and corn (2) turkey served with mashed potatoes, gravy, home made stuffing, and green beans (3)cranberry chicken served with wild rice and peas with pearled onions. Dessert tonight will be cake (boysenberry, pumpkin pie, yellow with berry sauce, apple sauce, apple spice). If there’s anything I can bring you, please feel free to let me know.”

I became fairly dexterous with a tray, able to move six dinner plates or eight soup plates (with platters and bread bowl) at a time. I served and bussed as we went, as required by the multiple courses. After dinner dishes were cleared (around 6:50) and desserts were served, all nine of the crew members lined up where the dining room joins the kitchen and Karen, the manager, rang a bell and said,

“I’d like to interrupt your dinners for just a second to introduce the crew. My name is Karen Reeves and I’m the manager. I come from Whitefish when I’m not on top of the world, and .”

We would go down the line. Albert from Foresyth Montana, Teri from Katskill New York, Cora from Sheridan Wyoming, Kaitlin who couldn’t decide if she wanted to be from Montana or New York where she goes to boarding school, Rachel who specified that she was born in Lawrence Kansas, but doesn’t really have a home town, David from Kalispell Montana, Chris from Morro Bay California, and me from Davis.

We also had reminders regarding breakfast, check out, the necessity of flashlights, quiet hours, coffee hour, gear-eating wildlife, mules on the trail, trail lunches, and the pack-in pack-out policy. We switched it up every night, so it became a game I played to keep myself from screaming and running out of the building flailing my arms.

We then went around the room and let each party introduce themselves. Some nights, each person would introduce themselves, and I would have to fight to keep from ripping my own eyeballs out. They told who they were, and where they were from, and that they saw goats and marmots. I smiled and tried to funnel tips from them with my mind.

After introductions, we ate food before it gets put away. Most of the crew was vegetarian, including me, so sometimes we cooked for ourselves, and sometimes I just ate the chemical mashed potatoes and corn. Then we bussed the tables, which guests were generally reluctant to leave, chatting and guarding their dishes while we cleaned around them. The earliest we ever finished cleaning up after dinner was 8:30. I nearly always stayed and helped wash dishes.

One in nine nights, I had to work coffee hour from 9-10, putting out hot and cold drinks for guests to take. One in nine nights, I had to mop the kitchen and pantry. The tasks themselves were not difficult, but the following mornings were. I generally went to bed at 10:00pm, though often read or quilted by booklamp.

On days without A La Carte, I had the day free between breakfast clean up and dinner prep—a solid seven hours to play in the mountains. I had an amazing time, lost ten pounds, and added some serious definition to my legs. I summitted several mountains, and found more beauty than my long gazes could drink. I miss my time as part of Sperry crew for the moments when I was able to escape the work, though in the end it was all worth it.