Going to the Sun

After a serene lakeside dinner of Hamburger Helper and Chicken-in-a-Biskit crackers carefully crafted and curated by Reed and yours truly, we followed the park ranger's guidance to a roadside pull-off on the heavily dented Beaver Lake Road to bed down for Thursday night. After bench selection and some site preparations, we slept like babies. And by that I mean we were up every hour crying out in discomfort from a seatbelt buckles in the ribcage or various contortions afforded by our in-van roadside sleeping arrangements. Nonetheless, we awoke Friday morning mildly refreshed and ready to take on Glacier National Park and the famous Going to the Sun Road.

Reed taking his turn preparing the Humburger Helper dinner while snacking on Chicken-in-a-Biskit crackers

With the early morning light, Reed excavated the trusty campstove from the archaeological strata of camping supplies in the back of the van–an arrangement more densely packed than the hills of the Dakota Badlands (foreshadowing). With the grace and zeal that only a world-champion water boiler could muster, Reed began to prepare breakfast of instant oatmeal and instant cream-of-wheat as we set up our lawn chairs at the side of the severely potholed gravel road. Despite the expertly boiled water, Reed and George quickly came to realize that a more palatable alternative to said cream-of-wheat might have been a hearty helping of the aforementioned gravel road. With that realization, they both instantly abandoned the suboptimal cream-of-wheat breakfast solution and switched to instant oatmeal, a wise choice indeed.

Yet again adequately nourished for further adventures, we re-packed our Wagon and set back off down the treacherous meteor-dented Beaver Lake Road. We soon entered the gates of Glacier National Park with a sense of foreboding of further closings, and suspicions were confirmed as we approached a roadblock manned by park rangers informing us that the road would be closed for at least several more hours until traffic congestion eased. In disappointment (but never defeat), we redirected course and set out to find a place to bide our time. As if by design, we discovered a riverfront fishing site along McDonald Creek, and decided to assemble the rods and drop in a few lines. Though no fishbites were had and several lures lost to unfortunate snags and user error, we enjoyed the detour and the chance to try our luck. After a couple hours, the spirit moved us to retry the entrance of Going to the Sun Road, and we boarded the Wagon to approach the roadblock. To our delight, as we approached from one direction as only the third car in line, the rangers were right then in the process of clearing the roadblock to reopen the trail. We chose our detour well. Luckily, had we approached from the adjacent road, we would've been in a much longer line of traffic.

Reed casting into the waters of McDonald Creek in Glacier National Park.

Dad giving us amateur anglers a lesson on the waterways

We set off on the famous road, which immediately met expectations with beautiful views of the distant mountains perfectly reflected in the crystal clear and perfectly still McDonald Lake. At several junctures, we stopped the Wagon for photo opportunities along the lake, at waterfalls, and alongside rushing rapids that accented the creek along the route. At the end of the open portion of the road, we parked the wagon and stopped to make sandwiches and enjoy lunch at the various day-use campsites. Having found a nice lunch spot among the crowds of fellow adventurers, we paused to enjoy a bite and a brief nap at our picnic table in the shade.

A selfie in front of Lake McDonald at one of the several turnouts

Once again rested and digested, we set off on our hike-du-jour up Avalanche Trail, along Avalanche Creek, to the consistently named Avalanche Lake. Though also crowded, it was a beautiful and serene hike through the trees and alongside the creek, which in places stood motionless and in others crashed violently downwards between rocky outcroppings. After just over 2 miles of hiking, we reached Avalanche Lake, which expanded to the mountains in the distance, showcasing three large waterfalls that fed the lake from melting glaciers above. We continued the walk around the lake to discover a less populated bank where we could dip our feet in the icy water. After multiple unwashed days, the dipping of feet in the lake was a pleasant experience for our feet, but was likely less than pleasant for the lake. With newly rinsed paws, we redonned our socks and boots and set off to retrace our steps back to the Wagon, a round-trip of about 4.5 miles.

Remounted, we set off to the Northwest for the town of Polebridge, arriving about 20 miles and 45 minutes hence. There, in a quaint three-building town straight out of a western classic, we enjoyed the live country music, the mercantile country store, and, as Oregon Trail travelers of the past were likely to have also experienced, a large pepperoni, sausage, and ham pizza for dinner with huckleberry bear claw pastries for dessert. As we ate, we planned the continuation of our route, and eventually set off, once again overly satiated and ready for the drive. As daylight hours waned, we winded our way around the southern border of the park, enjoying dramatic skies and a rainbow or two. After some ado, we decided on our next roadside pull-off where we could bed down for the night, which we selected along Route 2 near East Glacier, just alongside a railroad track before entering the Blackfeet Indian Reservation.

A view of a rainbow forming among the distant mountains on our drive from Polebridge to the south of Glacier Park.

Another view from our drive out of Glacier Park

Wears the Skis!