STRAIGHT LINE UNINTENTIONALLY IMPRESSIVE Western Montana’s Izaak Walton Inn “By the time we arrived in Essex, what had started as quarter-sized flakes at Whitefish’s Amtrak station were quickly turning into a massive storm that would bury northwest Montana under four feet of snow.” Words and Photos Nick VanHorn rakes squeal as we pull toward the lonely concrete plat-form, the train breathing a steamy hiss before coming to a halt. Outside, the slideshow of snow-covered evergreens has stopped, the windows now framing an icy road and a single, snub-nosed railcar. We step out into penetrating silence, in which the rumble of our duffle-bag wheels and the “zip zip” of Gore-Tex pants feels almost offensive. Aside from the solitary engine, we see no sign of civilization. Then we enter the stand of pines and see the building. It’s February, and warm light pours from the rows of win-dows. The elegant, snow-covered structure’s large size seems in stark contrast to its loneliness. Combined with the incom-ing storm, the vibe feels like a sequel for The Shining . B This is the Izaak Walton Inn, perched at 5,000 feet and located in Essex, MT, a 50-odd-person town along the south-ern edge of Glacier National Park. Thanks to an 80-year-old planning error, the inn is also one of the most obscure and (unintentionally) impressive backcountry lodges in North America. As we walk toward the inn’s double front doors, we decide it’s also one of the creepiest. Our trip to the Izaak Walton began 24 hours before, in Whitefish, MT. Forecasters were predicting a huge storm, and rather than fight the crowds, our group—Jake Christianson, Yvonne May and myself—decided to escape to Essex, to inves-tigate the tiny pit-stop town 50 miles west of Whitefish. 100 The Ski Journal
The Ski Journal Volume Eleven, Issue Two: Page 100
