Where to Find Me

Brett Svetlik

Glacier Park Boat Company

PO Box 210031

Lake McDonald, MT 59921

It Snowed Today

The weather has been relentless. The rain has been off and on for the past month. Mostly on. For the mountains, that means snow. This storm brought colder temperatures to the region and 4 inches of snow to Lake McDonald. I built a snowman on top of the wheelhouse of the DeSmet with Leah Tuesday evening. I told him to watch over the boat and I left for 1106. I awoke to snow falling, trees sagging, the ground covered in a fresh blanket of snow and 5 guests on the floor of my cabin. I wasn’t going to make Emily’s friends pitch their tent at Sprague Creek campground in a June snowstorm. The snow is so thick I can’t see the opposite shore of the lake. This makes me ready for anything.

Bike, Run, Beer

6 miles along the going to the sun highway on my bike and I arrive at the Avalanche Lake Trailhead. I begin my warm up on “Trail of the Seniors” officially known as Trail of the Cedars. I get a few looks from passing hikers. They look at me like I’m nuts. 5 years ago I would have thought so too.  It’s wet. The rain decided to break for a day, so I took my chance. I begin my run towards Avalanche Lake. The trail is steep at times, winding, but amazing. I run through the 300 year old cedar forest on easternmost fringe of the Pacific rainforest tucked against the continental divide in Glacier National Park. This is the part I love. I pass a group of hikers. I’m glad they are up here experiencing the forest and what Glacier has to offer. I give them space, but upon seeing me they let me pass. I am in a t-shirt and my shortest shorts. A light pair of running/biking shoes for my feet of course. I pass some could-be mountaineers. Full suits. Hilarious. They look at me either embarassed or confused. I continue up the trail at a good pace. I’ll be there in 15 minutes. This time I pass a group that I recognize. I recommended the hike to them yesterday when they were on my boat tour on Lake McDonald. They recognize me too and stare as I say hi and pass. The lake is dead calm. I am pretty wet from the snow drifts and water on the trail. I love it. I find a rock about half way around and enjoy the sound of water cascading from all around me. I am living that life that I never thought could happen to me. Unforgettable. I enjoy the moment. Now the easy part. Let the trail take me back down the mountain. A few minutes down and I run into Annie, a friend of mine whom I met the previous summer at Lake McDonald. She’s in her Chaco’s. We both recognize how easy this is for us and laugh at the people who see us as crazy. We talk about the upcoming season and plan to take a hike later in the summer. I’m almost back down when I pass another family of hikers and the dad says I’m making him look bad. I smile and get back to my bike for the ride home. 6 miles of coasting down to my cabin in the woods on the shores of Lake McDonald. I celebrate with a beer.

At the Office

Its pouring on Lake McDonald. I’m at the window. Watching. Sipping my coffee. Montana Morning Blend. It’s 2:15 in the afternoon. The snow level has been at 5,000 feet for the past week. Logan Pass has accumulated another 2 feet. Scheduled opening date: July 1. Another month and I hope to be looking down from the top of Heavens Peak, not the other way around. It has been an amazing start to another season in Glacier. I’ll fill in the blanks soon.  

SVETLIK

I had breakfast with Francesco’s parents before taking off on my bike for the day. Remember, neither of them spoke a word of english. Francesco had to leave to teach english at a nearby school before I woke up. Although I didn’t even know how to say much more than yes, no, hi, bye or thank you, I was able to get by and nodding seemed to work well as a form of communication. After another amazing traditional breakfast of pastries, breads, and fruit, I made my exit and took on the most beautiful day of riding yet. Francesco told me the best way to let his parents know I was leaving for the day was by saying ciao. One more for the list. So, I didn’t have to haul my trailer. Great news. I had a small pack of water and snacks for the day. The southern Bohemia region in the Czech Republic has amazing hillsides. Hillsides. A lot of ups and downs. I was ready for it, especially because I was carrying only myself. I was riding towards the border of the Czech Republic and Germany. My destination for the day, Svetlik. I made up my mind a long time ago when I was purchasing my plane ticket to Europe that I was going to visit Svetlik, the village where I believe my name is linked to. I rode out of Brloh into the amazing countryside. Forests and Farmland and the occasional village. Paved, winding roads through the greenest expanses I’ve seen in a long time. This was going to be a great day. This was already a great day. I rode 40 kilometers to the south on roads that seemed built for bicycles. Smaller one lane roads that experienced few vehicles but went in all the right directions. Up one hill and down the next. Following streams, cutting through forests, linking village to village. I arrived in Svetlik around 11:00 am. It was exactly like Francesco told me. A small village of about 300 or so people situated on a hillside, surounded by farmland and forest. There was nothng different about this village from the rest except it had my name everywhere. I was famous, for the moment at least. Svetlik signs everywhere. Town hall, the bus stop, on the roads that entered and exited the village, even the bar had a sign. If only they knew. I didn’t recognize any twins or look alikes, so I took some photos, ate my lunch on the lawn outside the church and moved on towards Frymburk, a town close to the Germany border on Lypno Reservoir. I ordered a beer and a plate of fried cheese, potatoes and broccoli just because. Just because I was already hungry again after another hour’s ride. I enjoyed a beautiful spring day on the shoreline and headed back towards Brloh, passing again through Svetlik. I couldn’t get enough of it. My mission was complete. I never knew I had a mission. I guess I had to prove it to myself that this place really existed. Extremely satisfied, I rode for the next few hours back in the direction of Brloh through the wide open countryside and thought about nothing. I just enjoyed what was to be my last full day of riding on my trip. Now I can say I have been to Svetlik.

Cesky Krumlov

I knew I was getting close. A lot of names started showing up with letters that I never knew could go together. I arrived in Cesky Krumlov to clear skies. I would be staying about 25 kilometers away in Brloh with Francesco. This small village reminded me of the many I passed through during my ride across France, except I would be staying here for 3 days. With only a few hours of light left, I passed through Cesky Krumlov towards Brloh with means of coming back and exploring the beautiful city sometime in the next few days. This was the last leg of my journey and I was extremely excited to be out of the city again. I met Francesco at the phone booth in the center of the village. He spoke english very well. He led me back to his family’s house and told me his family did not speak one word of english. He was correct. His family welcomed me nonetheless. Dinner was waiting for me. I began to like him and his family right away. We had wild boar from the forests of southern Bohemia, Czech Republic. His father hunted anything that moved in the forests as I noticed on the walls. It was amazing. Another 3 days of traditional Czech meals. A great way to start my tour in the Czech Republic.

Prague

I was eating at pub just 15 minutes from downtown Prague with Vladimir.  He helped me order a beer and explained some of his favorites off the menu. We were in a packed corner of the smokiest pub in Prague. As with all of Europe that I visited, Prague was nothing different. It seemed as if everyone smoked. Another European trend I suppose. He ordered a fried cheese plate with potatoes, broccoli and mushrooms. I went for the potato burrito. Both of us had a couple of beers each and just enjoyed sharing the similarities and differences of cultures. As with the smokiest bars, came another trend I found to be specifically linked with the Czech Republic. Everyone was loud. And by loud, I mean that freshman year house party with a band in the living room and 80 people in a 50 person capacity room, loud.

 

The Czech are also famous for their beer intake. With pints (or half liters) costing about 15 CZK a piece, it was quite affordable. Although this amounts to about a dollar a piece, I was able to find beers for half that in the grocery stores. Back to the pub. Loud, smoky, but still a good evening. We were sitting next to a man with a reasonably sized gut. While we were sitting there, I saw him down 3 or 4 beers. When he left, shortly before us, he asked for his tab. It was marked on a small sheet of paper in front of him. This was common all over the Czech Republic. A small piece of paper with tally marks for the number of beers the customer has had throughout the night. Between me and Vladimir, 4. This other guy, 13. So that amounts to 6.5 liters of beer for him alone. He paid, stood up and paced out like it was nothing. Vladimir told me this was common. I didn’t notice very many women around the pub. He told me that it was a common thing to do for these men. Spend the evenings and weekends at the pubs telling stories over beer, beer, and more beer. I think I’ll stick to one or two. I spent 3 full days in Prague exploring evertything I could find. It rained quite a bit. I was happy to be in one place instead of riding through the rain. Vladimir showed me around after work and was happy to show me examples of the citiy’s numerous architectural movements. One that I enjoyed the most was cubism. Something new around every corner.

 

The Mullet

So, I take back my earlier statement about a “lifetime’s worth of mullet sightings” back in the days of Columbia Falls, Montana. I have recently seen more than a lifetime’s worth of mullets. I don’t know where to begin, so here it goes. White poodle with dyed black fro/mullet,  3 German kids on the train mountain bike gang, slick on the top and long fro down the back mullets. That man/woman I’m not sure what that is mullet. The I’m your father, you’re my son mullet. Hey I’m a 28 year old rock star mullet, I’ll take fries with that mullet. Let’s slick the top and curl the back black & shiny mullet. Look at my mullet pony tail! How about my pig tail mullet? Hey, If I tuck my hair behind my ears, you can see my sidesteps mullet. Hey, maybe they won’t notice if I tuck it down my jacket mullet. Let’s braid my mullet! Maybe if I wear this with a handlebar mustache it will be “in” mullet, Although I’m technically bald, I can still call this a mullet! If I comb it just right, it looks like Jesus mullet. Lets part my mullet, maybe a little more on the left side this time mullet. My hair is short, but I can still style it to make you think I have a mullet. Long, short, every color of the rainbow. Every sheen possible. Curly, wavy, young, old, short, tall mullet, Couple mullets, single mullets, why not on my dog mullet. Ok, no pictures, but you have to trust me. Everyone European is in style. I don’t know what style that is, but there is a mullet to go with it.

Paris

I found myself in Paris for the majority of 3 days. During those days it was a blur. I rode my bicycle minus my trailer around different parts of the city to get a glimpse at everything. It was busy. No matter what time of year, Paris is crowded. You could find just about anything, but then again, you could also have a lot of trouble finding something you really needed.

I am sorry to say I did not spend my time picking out souvenirs of the Eiffel Tower or reprints of the Mona Lisa for all of you. I spent most of my time in the Louvre, Musee D’Orsay and throughout the many parks and gardens scattered throughout the city. I couldn’t handle the rush to get to the other side of the road. The chicken never made it. I saw him on many menus of the sidewalk cafes. In many different forms.

 

So, there I was, wandering one of the largest museums in the world getting lost down the endless corridors and greeting every new painting with an open mind and endless questions. Of course I was unable to walk all of the galleries of the Louvre, but I got a good start. I didn’t get out until it was getting dark, and I felt more at ease wandering the city. An amazing city of lights. Everything was lit up. I could actually sit down, relax and enjoy some of my time here away from the bustle of the crowds. Not a bad sight when everything is lit up. Definitely a different perspective.

Thomas hosted me in Montreuil, about a 15 minute bike ride from the center of Paris. Not only was he able to offer some more amazing french hospitality, He welcomed me into the Louvre for free. Thomas works in painting restoration at the Louvre as one of his occupations, so I was full of questions for him as well. He also recreates paintings as an artist himself. You might have seen these people before. They are the artists who set up in museums and copy paintings from the museum’s collections.

Thomas had a couple of works on his walls at his flat in Montreuil. I asked him for a Last Supper, but he said he was a bit busy at the moment with other obligations. Although I have fallen further and further away from representational and historical works, I still appreciate them for what they mean and how they were created.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thomas helped me out the day I left for Prague by helping me box up my bicycle and driving me to the bus station. We took off from his flat in his old Volvo station wagon and the next thing I knew, I was off to the Czech Republic, my final destination for my bicycle tour.

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