Glacier National Park (July 2009)
Northbound to Glacier
After a quiet morning leaving Bozeman, Montana, I pointed the car north—following the sunlit edges of Flathead Lake as the mountains of Glacier National Park slowly revealed themselves in the distance. There’s a certain anticipation that builds as you close in on a place like Glacier; every curve in the road hints at alpine secrets just waiting to be explored.
A Quiet Night Under the Stars
I rolled through the western entrance of the park and found a spot to pitch my tent under a sky so crisp it felt like a painting. Dinner that night was simple—something from a can, maybe, but it didn’t matter. I read a few passages from my Bible beneath a sky of infinite stars, the kind you only see far from cities and clocks.
Coffee and Bear Warnings
The next morning came early with the chill of alpine air. After rustling up breakfast and boiling coffee, I stepped away for a moment. When I returned, a bright yellow tag flapped on my coffee cup—a park ranger’s warning. “This is a smellable,” it read. Even your mug isn’t safe from the bears in Glacier. I was reminded that this park plays by nature’s rules, not ours.
Driving the Going-to-the-Sun Road
Fueled by caffeine and caution, I set out for the legendary Going-to-the-Sun Road, a marvel of engineering and beauty carved into the heart of the Rockies. The road winds through epic valleys, past waterfalls and towering peaks like Mt. Oberlin and Heaven’s Peak. Every turn revealed a scene more breathtaking than the last.
Hike to Avalanche Lake
My first stop: a ranger-led hike to Avalanche Lake, nestled beneath towering cliffs and fed by icy meltwater cascading in ribbons down their faces. The trail, thick with ancient cedars and mossy rocks, gave way to a lake so clear it felt sacred.
A Day of Wonder
The rest of the day was a slow wander through wonder—pullouts and photo stops every few minutes because how could you not? It truly felt like I had driven into a postcard or perhaps the American version of the Swiss Alps.
Sunset at St. Mary Lake
By dusk, I found myself at St. Mary Campground on the park’s eastern edge. I made a quiet dinner on my backpacking stove, heating a can of soup and sipping mint tea as the sun dipped behind the jagged peaks of the Lewis Range. The air cooled quickly, but I stayed out until the stars came out again, still not ready to close the book on one of the most breathtaking chapters of my solo road trip.
📍 If you’re planning your own journey, the Going-to-the-Sun Road usually opens fully by early July and is best driven from west to east for the most dramatic views. Bear spray is a must, and yes—so is securing every last item with a scent.
