The Grace of Glacier National Park

Quick Note: The reader will notice many photos, randomly dropped in this article, every one of these photos was taken by the author (yours truly). Every one of these photos was taken in Glacier National Park, in Montana.

I’ve traveled all over the world. I’ve don’t even know how many countries I’ve been in now; it would take me a minute to calculate it up—but it’s most likely in the seventies ballpark. I’ve traveled to all 50 states, many of them repeatedly and I’ve worked in what must be at least thirty or thirty-five. I say all this just to point out the observation that I’ve seen a bit of the world. And honestly, I want to see more.

I grew up in Bigfork, Montana. It is a small town in Northwest Montana. It is an extension of sorts from the three slightly larger cities in the area that form the bulk of what is referred to as the Flathead Valley to those that live in Northwest Montana. Those three cities are Kalispell, Columbia Falls, and Whitefish.

I hated growing up here. It always felt like there was nothing to do at all. It took my above-mentioned travels, and twenty years of experience to truly come full circle to start to appreciate the wonder that is this specific region. Montana in general has grandeur that is hard to beat, perhaps only second to Alaska in its raw beauty and even then, I put Montana up against Alaska in a lot of ways. The south part of Montana has Yellowstone National Park which is unquestionably in the top four national parks in the USA. However, Northwest Montana has Glacier National Park, also in the top four. Which means bang for buck, Montana has two of the most scenic locations that the USA has to offer.

In my list of top four, Denali (Alaska) and Yosemite (California) are the other two that top the list. I put Denali at number 1, but a big piece of that is because I have a particular fondness for bears and Denali National Park has pretty much the best opportunity to see bears, probably close to anywhere in the world. Glacier and Yellowstone are easily swapped between two and three, it just depends on what an individual wants to rank higher. Glacier for natural beauty, and scenic wonder really can’t be beat. Glacier in many ways is more scenic than Denali. Yellowstone has its own charm, between its large herds of wildlife, it’s amazing geysers, and its scenic beauty it’s also a true gem.

The average traveler through Glacier will only see a small fraction of the Park, and most likely will miss some of the best parts. I appreciate this because it keeps the hordes of tourists out of the places in the Park that I want to frequent. What many tourists to the area also fail to realize is that there are amazing mountains all over Northwest Montana, that have just as much beauty and zero tourists. Of note is the Bob Marshall Wilderness, and the many trailheads that start and end at Camp Misery within The Bob.

Glacier National Park (GNP) has five major sections—The West Side, The East Side, Two Medicine, Many Glacier, and the North Fork. The average traveler that goes to Glacier will only see The West Side and the East Side. This is largely because they only drive the main road through the Park. Everyone in their lifetime, if at all possible, should drive this road. This road is so epic, it has its own name, a name of legends. The Going-to-the-Sun Road cuts along the mountains and makes its way up to a saddle between the mountains and tops out at a place known as Logan Pass. This is the drivable top of Glacier. There are two spectacular trailheads at the top, one is the Hidden Lake Overlook and the other is the Highline Trail. Both are unforgettable. The Hidden Lake Overlook is particularly noteworthy if the hiker wants to find and observe mountain goats, as they are almost always viewable at some point along the trail. Personally, every time I have hiked the Hidden Lake Overlook, I’ve found and watched mountain goats.

Animal safety is a legitimate thing in Glacier. The animals are wild, huge, fast, and incredibly powerful. They will eat you. A bear friend told me that humans are particularly tasty and tender. Showing a serious proper respect for wildlife may literally save your life.

I’ve been charged by bears, at least twice. I say ‘at least’ because the one time I never did lay eyes on him. I was hiking Huckleberry Mountain, about two or three miles in and I heard a large animal flying through the underbrush right at me. Whatever it was, pulled up ten or twenty feet away in thick brush. I never did see what it was, but it was on top of me in five seconds flat and I can only assume it was a Grizzly doing a false charge. He came at me so fast that the bear spray I had on me didn’t even make it out of its safety strap.

I really can’t articulate how fast a Grizzly can move; it’s truly awe inspiring to see them run full bore. If they happen to be running towards you, that awe turns into raging panic and fear rather quickly.

Let me tell you about the second time I got charged. It happened last year. The location will remain unnamed as its one of those locations I like tourists not to visit, but it is in Glacier National Park. It is the quintessential story of a mother and her children. The irony of this tale is that the children are large enough in their own right to take on any human. Grizzly cubs stay with their mother for the first two years of life, at the end of those two years, they can be almost as large as the mom. Let’s meet the children.

I walked up on these two “cubs” and at first didn’t realize they were “cubs.” Being I’m an avid photographer I wanted to get solid photos of them. They were above the trail on the ridge and I didn’t have easy access to them, so I planned to hike several hundred meters around them and hike above them and get pictures looking down on them. The views would have been incredible. The joke was on me though because it turned out that they were traveling the same way I was. As I finally hiked up to where I though I could loop around on them, I popped out over some rock outcroppings and they were both like seventy-five feet away. That’s a little close but probably would have been okay had they known I was there or watched me approach. They didn’t know I was there, and I spooked them.

Never spook a bear. Easy words to say as most of the time if it happens, you and the bear are both as surprised as the other. However, the whole point of wearing bear bells or randomly making noise on the trail is specifically for this reason, you don’t want to ever startle them. (I’m deathly quiet on the trail and I never wear bells, which is probably not advisable.)

The two cubs retreated up on a rock overhang and then they looked back at me. Then the two cubs, one in particular, started crying. That was when I knew I was in trouble. It was at that moment that I truly knew that they weren’t alone. He was crying to someone. If you have never known apprehension and timidity, I can assure you that you will know it when you hear a bear cub cry for his mommy.

The mother was below the trail. She was roughly three to four hundred meters away, I would assume. She was a long way away, in thick brush, way outside of viewing range. The cubs, and I, at this point are above on a vast ridge, we can see a great distance in all directions and overlook the valley below.

At this point my eyes are scanning everything. I know the mother will come, but I don’t know where she is at. Is she running directly at me and I don’t even know it? I estimated she was a good three hundred meters away, and she cleared that ground in seconds.

I was lucky as she swept up the next drainage over from me. This kept her several hundred meters away. But once she got to her cubs, she immediately started looking around to see what they were complaining about. The two tattletales were both looking directly at me, and it wasn’t half a heartbeat for the mom to see exactly what had upset her children.

The audience should keep in mind I’m not that close to these bears at this point. I want amazing pictures, and I’m a risk taker, but I’m not suicidal. I’m a solid hundred, hundred fifty meters away. But the sow didn’t even hesitate, she was in a quick trot my way immediately. I’m not one to hesitate either in this situation, I start to retreat off the rocky crest I’ve been perched on, moving over rocks and debris in a very uniformed, slow, and steady pace.

When you have lived in heavy bear populated areas most of your life there is a mantra that gets pounded into your head, and that’s to never run from a Grizzly. Running from a Grizzly gives the impression of prey, and apparently it excites them. The simple fact that I moved away in a calculated and deliberate manner might have been what saved me.

The terrain was rough enough she couldn’t outright run at me, but she still cleared the hundred meters with stark efficiency. At this point she is a hundred feet away, getting very close to bear spray range. For whatever reason, one I still don’t understand, she stopped, stared me down with an apparent harsh criticism, and then turned around.

I live for these types of moments, to witness and observe the raw power of nature. It isn’t the risk of almost getting eaten, and I generally truly try to avoid overly disturbing wildlife, as it is just rude. It’s also incredibly dangerous for the next human to encounter a slightly agitated animal. The whole encounter of really disrupting the wildlife is a negative. But to be in the moment where you get to truly stand in an environment that is truly outside of your control, and you get to be a part of something that is truly transcendent—that is simply amazing.

There is a beauty to it, a mercy, and even in those truly rare moments, a grace. To be immersed in surroundings that are so truly wild that you can’t help but sit back in awe. This is the power of Glacier National Park. It is the power of so many of our national parks in America, and all our many great wildernesses.

Find that place, the place where when you are there, everything else is secondary. Where you no longer mold the world to your reality, but the world shows you what reality really is.

Find that place.