In my mind Glacier National Park was the National Parks of National Parks, like a next level experience only conquered by the very bold and adventurous, or something like that. I made it! I had seen pictures of course and was astounded by the unbelievable views, and now I was here! I turned left off Highway 2, through a little tunnel under the railway, and into the little tourist village of West Glacier. I passed by a visitor center for Alberta, Canada. Although I was not in Canada, I was so close. I also passed by a few little tourists shops, Glacier Raft Company, and a little restaurant and ice cream shop called Friedas.
The pines hugged in closer after I crossed the bridge over the Middle Fork of the Flathead River, and there in the shade of the dark rich pines was the National Park sign. Bold and beautiful it read, Glacier National Park. I admit it’s now commonplace for me, after having spent many summers in Glacier, but at the moment this was a big deal. It was my first time here. This was an accomplishment. This was one of the more out-of-the-way National Parks I’d been to. Its mountains were extreme with moving Glaciers, and its forests held grizzly bears and wolves! This was no ordinary place to be. I was swept with a sense of accomplishment, gratitude, and wonder being here.
Nearby I parked at the Apgar Visitor Center. It was early and it was still closed, but there was a National Park bus stop on site. The plan was to take the bus up to Logan Pass, the highest point on the famous Going-to-the-Sun Road. From there I’d hike the Skyline Trail one way about fourteen miles up to the Garden Wall to catch a view of Grinnell Glacier, then I’d continue north to the Granite Park Chalet where I’d take the Granite Park Trail down to “The Loop,” another spot on the Going-to-the-Sun Road. There I’d catch the bus back down to my car. This would be a full day endeavor hence the getting started so early.
As I stood there waiting for the bus, I was cold. I needed the sun to rise and warm things up. I had a few layers on, including my new Under Armour base layer I bought at the thrift store outside Seattle, yet I was still just wearing shorts. I knew it would warm up. I double checked all I had in my backpack: a map, snacks, water, flashlight… just in case. I was prepared. My boot laces were pulled tight. I was ready! Anxiously I walked around, reading all the signs, observing what other tourists were doing, and checking messages on my cell phone. I had caught a wifi signal from the visitor center.
I chose to take the bus as opposed to driving for a few reasons. I was nervous about driving the Going-To-The-Sun Road. It seemed intimidating. The road is known as the most scenic drive in America but was also snug against dramatic cliff edges gaining 2,560 feet in elevation. I knew I would have to drive it to carry through with my next few days’ itinerary, but I wanted to size it up first and just observe it with someone else behind the wheel. I didn’t have to drive it until the following day. I also read that parking can be difficult to find at Logan Pass where my trailhead was, so I didn’t want to risk not being able to park. Lastly, I like the energy in the air on a bus in a national park with everyone geared up for adventure. It’s a unique culture that I find to be part of the park experience.
The bus ride was terrifying! I sat on the right side near the front of the bus. I swear this bus was too big for the road. Around every bend I felt as if my side of the bus was jutting off the cliffside. The first few miles of the road were easy, relaxing, just through the mysterious, dark, wet, mossy forest with light peaking through in the most intriguing and mystifying ways. The bus took us alongside Lake McDonald, the long-stretching wonder. Then we were along the beautiful McDonald Creek, where the water runs clear if not in a surreal turquoise. But then the real ascension began and things got hairy. It wasn’t so bad until rounding a place called “The Loop,” where the road makes a dramatic turn and narrows. There’s supposed to be two lanes, but it seems more like one by any other comparison.
The trees lessened and boulders became more prominent. I began to notice the forest below, no longer aside us. We were up in the mountains. The views were astounding, more magnificent and boisterous than anything I’d seen before, as if the mountains were calling for attention. However, I would appreciate them more the next day. Right now I was distracted by the thousands of feet expanse just beside me to which I felt I’d be plummeting down at any moment if for some reason I didn’t cling hard enough to my bus seat. The tension was real.
We proceeded through a few tunnels of which we were too big for; and a few bridges, built into the rock walls, better suited as foot paths in a Vanderbilt garden. I have never been more nervous on a ride in my life. Around each wind in the road, I felt I was just swinging out over valleys on my corner of the bus, dangling over great heights.
I could not understand how the bus driver was just so casual and relaxed, making friendly conversation with another passenger. She was loudly talking about how she was a school bus driver and this was just a summer job. I was carefully watching her in case I had to spring into emergency assistance, I suppose. At one point she grabbed her water bottle for a sip. Two hands on the wheel! I wished to telepathically impart.
I would be gripping that steering wheel so tight, head tilted forward, focused on the road. I wouldn’t be talking to anyone. I would have to be totally focused on the road. In fact I couldn’t even drive a bus on this road. We would already be plummeting down to McDonald Creek. Maybe if she is so relaxed I should be too. I tried to, but I was so tense. I couldn’t wait to get off this bus safely.
The bus stopped for some mountain goats crossing the road. We were getting close! We were now near the tundra. Water flowed around in many different directions and spread everywhere from the melting snow. Tight shrubs and alpine grasses hugged the rocks, and the tops of mountain peaks stood as monuments around us.
I survived! I got off at Logan Pass on top of the world. Here is the Continental Divide. Water flows east to the Atlantic, west to the Pacific, and north to the Hudson Bay. There’s a real feeling of being at the pinnacle of North America. There’s also a big parking lot where a visitor center sits along with two big flags, one of the U.S. and the other of Canada. Glacier National Park shares a boundary with Waterton National Park in Canada. Together they form what is called an “International Peace Park.”
A short distance from the parking lot at Logan Pass is the trailhead for the Highline Trail, often touted as the best hike in the park by many visitors. It begins at such an elevation that the mountain peaks around it are obviously bald, exposed to the wind and sun, reminding me of some of the rock formations of the Southwest in Arizona or Utah. The trail starts just off the Going-to-the-Sun road, and goes down a shallow decline with rich green grasses and a few pines. Then it snugs up close to a cliffside. The trail is just a couple feet wide, right up against a rock wall. The other side is a sheer cliff, plummeting hundreds, maybe thousands, of feet down. This did not bother me at all. The difference: I was in control of my body but wasn’t of the bus. This was an experience to marvel at. I loved it! The trail was already pretty busy this morning. There were other hikers right in front of me and others trailing up behind. “Be careful,” they told one another as they carefully maneuvered the small path.
This trail lives up to its hype. It was extravagant. At times it opened up to just enormous views atop these mountainous meadows spread with yellow blooming glacier lilies and patches of snow stretching before dramatic mountain peaks carved by glaciers. Each mountain valley was framing another stunning view in the distance. There was forest too, a grand immensity of it, but I was mostly above it. The descending display of each little triangular pine tree top spoke of the grandeur of the landscape before me. The sky was rich blue, the snow bright white, the mountains gray with skirts of dark green pines around their bases, and just before me was the vibrant green and yellow of the glacier lilies. I was right in calling this a next level National Park. These were the most immense, grandiose, dramatic, and beautiful views I had seen out of any National Park. This was the cream of the crop, or as they say, “”the crown of the continent.” Each dramatic mountain peak was like the palisades on a crown, the landscape adorned with the finest things of nature: glaciers, waterfalls, forested basins, the crown jewels of God’s creation.
This morning the sun was also very bright and positioned at just the right angle to illuminate these jewels, reaching into every little crevice and wrinkle on the mountainside, adding to the depth and detail of everything.
After about an hour in, I stopped at one majestic meadow to shed a few layers and eat some electrolyte gummies. I was getting quite warm in the morning sun. The trail was still busy, and hikers continually passed me. I found a rock to first set my backpack on and then to sit down on for a moment and behold the landscape. Although warm from the sun, the air was cool, and I took in a deep refreshing breath of rich snow-chilled mountain air. Then I carried on.
About seven miles in I came to the Grinnell Glacier Overlook spur trail. It was just a half mile and would lead up to the feature called the Garden Wall, which is a natural rock wall that is a definitive line of the east side of the park and the west side. It’s like a great narrow spine of the park. From here I could look down and see Grinnell Glacier. The spur trail was completely exposed above the treeline and very steep, gaining one thousand feet in a half mile distance. Sometimes when going uphill, I try to go fast and just get the exertion over with. I tried here, but the air was very thin on top of the world. My whole body felt so heavy and gravity felt extra strong. When I got there I was utterly amazed! I didn’t know what to expect. I hadn’t looked up any images prior. I was stunned. I hadn’t seen anything like this.
This may be a strange comparison, but it kind of was like when someone reveals a bloody wound, and you’re shocked by the look of it. You weren’t expecting to see something so abnormal on the skin’s surface which is usually smooth and predictable. It’s a grand abnormality on the skin and in the flesh. This glacier view was that grand abnormality on the earth’s surface and in the earth’s crust. But replace the disgust with awe, and replace the red of blood with rich turquoise blue and a white so bright and so angelic it burns.
Wow! I had never felt so high up. I was way on top of the world. I thought I was on top of the world at Logan Pass. I was wrong. This was even next level! I sat on a rock’s edge, below me rocks crumbled down, slanting into a blanket of snow which then spread over Grinnell Glacier. Then hundreds of feet below, I could see the ice rippling with white and turquoise blue. It was the glacier descending and melting into a bright opaque turquoise glacial lake. The lake fed into another lake and then into another lake in a chain of glacial lakes spread out immensely in the forest below. I was on top of everything and looked across at the other gray mountains tops up here above the treeline, rippled through the ages with rock layers. There were blankets of snow littered amidst these mountains, drooping in every which way. It was also clear here to see the carving power of a glacier. It’s where a whole mountainous valley began. This was. and stands to be, one of the greatest sights I have ever beheld.
I sat to snack on a Clif Bar and enjoy the view for a spell. A little chipmunk came very close. I’m sure he was hoping for a bite or two. That wasn’t going to happen, but I did take his photo, which he couldn’t have cared less about. Then shortly after, a group of Chinese tourists arrived all wearing the same off-white sun hat. They were all oohing and aahing and talking in their sharp-sounding language.
This place was unbelievable. I had really arrived somewhere! I couldn’t have conjured up such a view in my mind. Now it was resident in my mind. So satisfied, I began my descent to carry on back on the Highline Trail.
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