The last big segment of my summer road trip was Glacier National Park. I hadn’t been there since I was a child and so my memories were hazy, just a few visuals of a road with steep drop-offs and mountain goats perched on ledges. Driving along the Road to the Sun is of course a necessary part of the Glacier experience. It is not just the only way to get to many of the park’s most popular and beautiful spots, but it also provides incredible views from the driver’s seat while clutching the steering wheel and ignoring the fact that about a foot of shoulder room on the road and a thigh high wall of stones separates you from a precipitous drop below.
At this point in my trip I had done a few solo hikes in grizzly country, and had learned that I felt safest by choosing popular routes, thus guaranteeing a certain level of background human presence and noise. So I was prepared to embark on a lengthy hike alone if need be, and after a bit of research determined that the Highline Trail was the best option (particularly given that the eastern section of the park was closed this summer). Gary had knocked out a 10 miler without difficulty the preceding week in the Tetons, so it didn’t take much convincing before he was up for the hike to the Grinnell Glacier overlook from Logan Pass. My online resources told me this would be 15 miles. To ensure that we’d get a parking spot at Logan Pass, as well as to avoid the afternoon heat, we decided to set off the next morning at 5:30am sharp.
The morning started smoothly. We hit the road on time, the sun yet to rise above the horizon. The parking lot was maybe half full when we arrived. Clouds loomed in the sky for the entire first half of the hike, which we realized later was a blessing in helping us conserve our water resources.
The mile offshoot to the overlook from the Highline Trail adds about 900 feet in elevation, so it is quite the climb. The effort is well worth it though, particularly with the east park closure, as it gave us a chance to peak into the otherwise off-limits section of the park. It had started raining during our ascent, but shortly after reaching the top, the rain stopped and we were able to savor the experience, indulging in a glacier-top sandwich lunch. Shortly after that, the clouds began to part and sun appeared for the first time. We were in good spirits as we descended and headed back.
The return trip was just as beautiful, but physically more demanding given that the sun and heat were more intense than in the morning. By the time we made it back to Logan Pass, it turns out we’d walked 20 miles, not the 15 I had expected. Undeterred, I still wanted to maximize our location and so added on another quick 5 miles to the Hidden Lake overlook and back. After an unsuccessful rendezvous with the rest of the crew, we felt satisfied with our day in the park and so headed back west.
As we drove along Going to the Sun road now in full daylight, I kept getting the feeling that I was in some sort of fantasy world, with jagged, glacially carved rocks popping out of the ground around every corner. Like in a video game where they just create the most dramatic landscape they can imagine, no matter how unrealistic it may be. Throw in shades of green and grey splattered along the mountain bases and scattered patches of wildflowers to add some vibrant color variety, a big blue sky atop it all, and the occasional turquoise-colored glacial lake.
For years, fly-fishing has been on my bucket list and so once I realized I’d be traveling through Montana this summer I knew it was the time. Luckily, Gary and Paul were of a similar mind and so it was that we found ourselves one morning slipping into the Middle Fork of the Flathead River. Our day started pleasantly enough as we tried to absorb our crash course in fly fishing basics. We began drifting down the river, receiving continued instruction. At some point, the intensity of instruction seemed to shift.
As our guide Chad was barking orders to “Mend!” like a high school football coach, I was trying to remember the last time I’d experienced such admonition. I recalled my high school baseball coach’s red face screaming as the ball I’d flung from the outfield sailed over the cutoff man’s glove into the dugout, or the garbled shouting of my basketball coach that seemed to rise in intensity with each mistake and eventually became unintelligible.
I suppose it was probably more recent like in med school when I was berated by the thoracic surgeon for not retracting hard enough, or during residency when the GI radiologist would disdainfully shove me out of the way as he took control of the fluoroscopy tower.
My thoughts were interrupted by another coach-infused exhortation, only this time it was directed at Gary, on the other side of the boat. “You had four different fish bite your fly just then! Damn it, what are you looking at?” Gary looked up a little flummoxed and then furrowed his brow while muttering something under his breath. Chad looked away in disgust and paddled us to the other side of the river.
Paul’s experience seemed much more serene as he drifted past smiling in the other boat, directed by the more mild-mannered guide, John. Nonetheless, by the end of the day the coaching had eased, I had learned how to mend, and I’d reeled in nine fish!
Our evenings were mostly spent playing Trekking, the game introduced to Gary and Becky by Paul and Debbie. Being avid travelers and fans of the National Park System, it had been their idea in the first place to visit Glacier this year. Then my parents decided to join them, and as my summer road trip plans developed, I adapted it to my itinerary as well.
As I think back on my entire trip – of all the wonderful places I saw, the fun experiences I had, the people I was able to share them with, the serendipities, the stars, the sunrises – it really was pretty special. And as our last Trekking match was getting close to ending, I appeared to be in the lead for the first time. I was feeling good about my chances, when Paul suddenly rattled off a signature multi-part move, and swiftly claimed victory. I suppose you can’t win them all.
