Because the night was beautiful and clear, I only had the rain fly on my tent half way to allow for more air, and if I should wake up more, star viewing. The morning light and a gentile alarm woke me up, and I laid in my warm, cozy sleeping bag, gazing at the beautiful mess of trees and clouds around me. Slowly coming to, I felt a small drop on my face. Followed quickly by another, and almost immediately after, the tell tail sound.
Rain!
Scampering quickly, I bolted out of the tent, throwing the rain fly over it before anything got too soaked, and running back in before I too got soaked. Well, I was awake now, that’s for sure. Max and Kristin also awoke, and we packed up our stuff from within the shelter of our respective tents, and waited for it to, hopefully, subdue. Thankfully it did, and with another frantic pack up, we were good to go, only requiring sustenance before beginning our longest day yet.
Retrieving our busted bear bag, the heat from the warm water and oatmeal helped to sooth my already cold hands. Cleaned up, packed up, we set out, a bit of back tracking, and a lot of new trail ahead of us. The ranger had warned us when issuing our permit that only about 30 people a year travel this section of trail, and that at times it would be impossible to see. He wasn’t kidding.
The overgrown shrubbery on the trail quickly soaked our pants, though a slowly rising sun helped to alleviate any worries about more rain. With fresh legs, we cruised the back track portion of the trail, and quickly found the junction, sailing past it. The pace wasn’t fast by any means, but steady enough to keep going and not become overly exhausted. Our first pause came as we saw the first of many fords that would have to be done. To ford simply means to cross a river. Our map indicated today would include 4 fords. Oh joy.
Thankfully the waters were much lower than just a few weeks ago, and the water was no higher than our knees. Kristin is a bit shorter, and had a bit more of a battle, but managed fine after we found a shallower portion to cross. Back on the trail, I remembered back to my trip in Moab, where the waterproof boots not only kept water out, but also in. The familiar squish-squash of every step was the tell tail sign that our feet would not be happy when we made it to camp this evening.
Slowly descending down the valley, again conversation came and went. A few more river crossings and re-soaking of our feet ensured they stayed nice and damp throughout the day. We ran into a group of Student Conservation Association workers doing trail maintenance, hearing we were the first hikers they’d seen in a week. Guess the ranger wasn’t kidding.
The clouds burned off by high noon, and a sunny spot with just enough wind to keep away the flies and mosquitoes ushered in and more than welcome lunch. Relaxing and getting my boots off for a minute to dry felt glorious. We continued on through the forest, in vegetation sometimes taller than Kristin (she stands at 5’2”), walking with the only a foot of trail visible at times. The trail went down to the river for a short bit before wrapping back up to the next valley towards Harrison Lake, our destination for the night.
Down to the river, the trail junction sign only pointed in two directions, but with 3 trails, I was confused. Thinking that going toward the river was a good idea, we set off down that trail. It felt solid until we reached the beach and the trail disappeared. Walking along the open beach on the river, the consensus was a bit of bush-whacking was better than retracing our steps. The map showed that if we simply went up any hills, the trail would be there, if we found it in a spot that was obvious. Trouncing through the woods, we slowly made it up the hills, and through the maze of fallen trees. The upper canopy shielded us from the warm summer’s sun. Finally after an hour of hard work, the trail presented itself, and we continued on our way.
One final river crossing for the day, and we made it almost to the campsite, when Kristin quickly took a seat. She has a heart condition and warned us of what to do if anything should happen. What she didn’t warn us, is that she would possibly refuse all that help. So, we stopped, and gazed at the beauty around us for over an hour as she slowly recovered enough to hike the last 2 miles to camp. Relieved she was ok, and there was still daylight, camp came quickly and we were the only ones there.
Painfully, I removed my boots to see that carnage of the days wet walking on my feet. Slowly hobbling around the campsite, I began dinner, aka boiled water, while Max and Kristin washed off. Max, again showing off his Eagle Scout skills, got a raging fire burning in no time, and we all joined in to dry off our soaking feet, socks and shoes, while gorging ourselves on dinner. Warm and dry feet, full and happy stomachs, we were greeted by another fellow wandering in for the night. Though we got a strange vibe from him and kept to ourselves. Again, sleep came all too easily, but with no energy to awake for night photos, I slept peacefully till alarm sounded.
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We awoke, not at all wanting to move. The aches and pains of yesterday’s hike rang loud in each of our bodies. Sore, hobbling, and slowly moving, camp was packed, and breakfast consumed. Today was only 13.8 miles, but the motivation to do it was virtually nonexistent. We had survived the worst day, but today was hardly much easier. Off we went, simply getting into the rhythm and letting the autopilot take control as we again back tracked to the trail junction in near record time. A glance at the map to make sure we didn’t get lost again today and we continued.
Another river crossing, hopefully the only one of the day, and our feet were again soaking. Yay. Trudging along, the trail became a bit confusing after the river crossing and soon disappeared. We’d lost it again. Consulting the map, we again started bush-whacking in the general direction, and found it much quicker this time. We stopped at the final trail junction, with only 4.5 miles to go to camp, no one was feeling it. We took a vote, to hike to camp, or to hike out, only 1.3 miles. By unanimous decision, we decided home would be it. Quickly we ran into a waist deep river, and Max became a puppy. Jumping in full force and splashing around, rejuvenated. It felt so good, I just stood in the river for a while, letting my lower half slowly freeze from the cold water, soothing my aching joints. With shenanigans and selfies a plenty, we walked out and off.
The trail finally fully disappeared in the last half mile. With barren river beds and smooth rocks of all sizes, our only direction was towards the highway in hopes of hopping out at a point close-ish to where Max’s truck would be. The final river crossing was, you guessed it, the worst one. The current not only swift, but coupled with high water, Kristin was not too excited. We walked together, I downstream of her, and held on to her backpack as a “oh shit” stabilizer. Step by step, we crossed, as I kept a death grip on her back pack to keep her from getting sucked away by the current. Shore came and we were relieved to be there, and not at one further downstream. Just across the railroad track, shinning it its bright blue glory, the truck sat.
HALLELUJAH! WE MADE IT!
Gear thrown in the bed, soaking pants removed and food down the hatch, the drive to the ranger station commenced. It was a beautiful drive, as we contemplated Glacier NP on our right, and a National Forest on our left, both equally beautiful. The permit office was still open, and I walked in to tell them of the open campsite, though the time was 425, it would be of little use. They proceeded to warn us about a fire in the park, and road closures. A bit shocked, I asked what would have happened if we were still out in the back country and in danger? She replied that there were rangers back there warning all sites in danger and getting people off the trails.
A huge part of Glacier National Park, besides the glaciers, is Going to the Sun Road. A beautiful road 29 miles long that winds through the park to show off much of its beauty from the seat of your car. The fire had put a road block about half way through, and we decided to spend the rest of the day going up it until we hit the road block. Thankfully, Max and I have little to no shame, and with our pants still soaking wet in the bed of the truck, we simply wandered around the park in our underwear and t-shirts.
With stunning waterfalls, expansive lakes, and colors only Bob Ross could conjure up, Glacier showed us more of its incredible beauty. The drive was amazing, and I could hardly stop taking photos every 30 seconds as the scenery changed. New mountains erupted from the hills, soaring into the sky and piercing the clouds. My jaw was hurting from hitting the floor so much; this place was magical.
Sights sufficiently seen, and pants finally dry, we dressed ourselves and began the long drive home. Quickly stopping at a small Italian restaurant for a much needed dinner, we cruised into the night, the sounds of Reel Rock keeping us alert. Arriving home at 1 am, we were exhausted from our third long day in a row. Camping pads strewn on patches of open carpet amidst the array of boxes, we passed out.
