It seemed a bit surreal---almost reminiscent of Steve Vincent Benet's classic short story "By the Waters of Babylon" where the character visits an abandoned New York City, finding only remnants of the big city's hustle and bustle.
I drove to Schweitzer yesterday on its 50th birthday. On the trip up, I met a few cars, figuring the occupants had had their short day of skiing on the big milestone day and were headed home.
Lots of parking space, I thought, while entering the parking lot---in fact, more than I saw on my last trip up here in the summer time.
The number of cars, or lack thereof, called for a photo.
With camera in hand, I walked toward the village, noticing local license plates and a few out-of staters. Once up the steps, I saw a crew working around a tree in the center of the village.
"No pictures yet," one hollered. "We're not finished decorating." While snapping photos anyway, I mentioned that I'd come up to see what was happening on Schweitzer's "real" birthday.
The crew was unaware of the day's significance, but they did know about the celebration the weekend after next. They also told me Schweitzer would open for 7 days a week this Friday---two days after its "real" 50th birthday.
Inside the hotel, I saw more Christmas decorating around the check-in desk and up the stairway.
Outside, I met a nice young man who works with guest services at Schweitzer. He knew it was the special day.
We enjoyed a short visit, and I then I moved on toward the office, figuring I just had to say hello to someone on staff on this monumental day.
I walked into an empty lobby and snapped a photo, noting one of Schweitzer's many distinctions. Somebody walked from one office to another. The phone on the other side of the counter rang. Someone within the office complex must have answered.
I grabbed a handful of Schweitzer Magazines and walked out the door to take a few more photos of the empty scene, which in the next few days will be bustling with early season ski mountain excitement.
The quiet yesterday in the village was deafening. While shooting a photo of the clock tower, I saw a couple off in the distance, coming my way with skis.
"Wonder if they skied on Schweitzer's 50th birthday," I thought to myself. "Guess I'll get a photo."
Indeed, they had skied----walking up the hillside and skiing down. They told me they'd seen a few other skiers were up there too.
I asked if they were local. Thegentleman told me he'd moved here in 1962.
I asked him to take off his sunglasses.
Then, I knew immediately who he was. Had taught two of his three sons at Sandpoint High. He delivered mail around town, wearing shorts, for a number of years, and he had hiked 50 milers through the Selway Wilderness Area with Boy Scouts---just like Bill did when he was a scout leader.
Rod Dozier and Jane Hoover, NP, didn't mind a bit that this lady was taking their picture on a significant day in Schweitzer's history. And, I was thrilled to catch them and to visit with them for a few minutes.
We did some catching up on our kids as we walked through the quiet village. I also learned that Jane, who came here a few years ago from Ohio for the "beauty of it all" thinks she's not such a good skier. Hearing that information, I felt an instant bond.
And, so on Schweitzer's 50th birthday, I walked the village, grabbed a few photos and talked with very few people at the resort---where one staff member said he'd "heard of Bob Aavedal."
Time flies over 50 years. Details sometimes turn insignificant.
Still, the mountain remains a beloved force, which has created so much history for Sandpoint, its residents and its many visitors who have marveled at its perennial beauty while creating their individual memories.
Since I didn't make it up there 50 years ago, like a lot of folks I know, I'm proud to say that I made it 50 years later, and maybe, just maybe, ten years from now, someone can use my photos when the mountain surpasses another decade as a resort.
It was a beautiful afternoon.
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