We left Great Falls and moved north toward Glacier National Park. Keeping with the plan, we skipped the interstate and went up Highway 89, one of those dotted roads on the map that signifies a scenic drive. We were not disappointed with the landscape, as we passed agriculture of all types and a few cyclists, which we did not anticipate in such an isolated place.
It wasn’t long before we entered the Blackfeet Reservation. I can always tell when I enter a reservation because the entire atmosphere – air, land, roads – becomes more depressed. It’s as if the fog of history has never lifted from the lives of Native Americans.
Our destination was the Glacier Park Lodge, and there were some concerns from the group about our accommodations. Lodges, both around and within national parks, tend to be remnants from the turn of the last century and are built in the Victorian rustic style. I have no problem with this, but a few of us have issues with staying in hotels that are a century old. Also, these lodges have some rooms without bathrooms. Instead, there is a communal bathroom at the end of the hall.
I must admit that I was wondering what we were getting ourselves into. None of us should have been worried. The Glacier Park Lodge was a great place to spend an evening. We were not even concerned that the rooms had no televisions.
I thought I would see Jack Nicholson busting through a door. Luckily, that didn’t happen.
The lobby, where everyone hung out because of the “NO TV” rooms, was awesome.
I want a room like this is my house.
The view from the back porch was also pretty good.
I also want a view like this from my deck.
After checking in, we had a little time for me to show my nephews how to play pitch-n-putt.
He has this putt to win The Masters.
Overall, the Glacier Park Lodge was a great place, but there was a somber reminder that national parks contain dangers as well as beauty. The front desk was plastered with information of a missing hiker. He had been gone for a few days by the time we arrived and had not been found when we flew home.
The next morning we ventured into the park but not before there was a struggle over which way to go. My dad and brother were convinced that we needed to turn right. My oldest nephew insisted that we go left. My nephew was right. We made the correct turns; made it to the eastern entrance; and, drove on the Going-to-the-Sun Road. Words can’t describe its beauty, so I will let a few photographs do the talking.
Along the way, we crossed the Continental Divide.
We did it just like Lewis and Clark.
I have some advice for those thinking about going to Glacier. Enter the park from the east because there is a lot less traffic that way.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot. We had a nice lunch at the western entrance to the park. I thought my nephews were getting bored with the ride, so I bought them something to read. It was the literary classic, “Who Pooped In The Park?”. They thoroughly enjoyed it.
SBI: A Thinning Crowd 