Date: July 2, 2025
Location: Going-to-the-Sun Road, Glacier National Park
The landscape turned dramatic, the sky brooded, and the mountains looked like they were pulled from Middle Earth. There’s something humbling about Glacier’s scale—it pulls you in, quiets the noise, and makes you feel small in the best way.
We got up early and were on the road by 6:45 AM, determined to reach Logan Pass before 8:00 in hopes of finding a parking space. The route took us down US-49—the same road we weren’t allowed to enter from due to Kevin’s length. It was full of sharp twists, no guardrails, and sweeping drop-offs. Not exactly the most relaxing drive, but the scenery was absolutely spellbinding. We stopped several times just to soak it in – and there went the schedule.
Passing through St. Mary in East Glacier, we were greeted by wildlife right away—a bald eagle gliding overhead and deer grazing near the lake. We pulled over at Wild Goose Island, which looks so picturesque it could’ve been painted. It’s hard to believe it’s real.
At Jackson Glacier Overlook, we may or may not have seen a glacier—it was still heavily covered in snow. That’s the thing about Glacier: it keeps its secrets. It was at this point that Rob and I looked at one another and asked, “What makes a glacier a glacier?” Phew! I was really glad another adult had that question. Basically, a glacier is a mass of ice that has formed when more snow accumulates than melts over time. The snow compresses into glacial ice and the mass becomes so heavy that it moves under its own weight due to gravity.
The Going-to-the-Sun Road is a marvel in itself—tight turns, steep drop-offs, and jaw-dropping views at every bend. Waterfalls cascade over cliff sides, tunnels cut through rock, and valleys stretch far below. If you’re the driver, it’s all nerves; if you’re the passenger, it’s pure awe. You cannot look and drive – the two do not mix on this road!
We stopped to touch snow—carefully. Though it was a warm 75 degrees and we were in short sleeves, snowdrifts remained from the long winter. Avalanche risks (and, let’s be honest, park rangers) kept us from walking on it, but we couldn’t resist picking it up.
We missed our window at Logan Pass. By the time we arrived just after 8:00, the lot was full and cars circled like vultures. Many of the trails in this area were closed anyway, due to snow or active bear mating – no one needs to be caught up in the middle of that. Avalanche risk remains high as the snow melts.
Hoping to hike Trail of the Cedars and Avalanche Trail, we continued west, but parking remained impossible—even before 9:00 AM. So we kept moving, eventually arriving at Lake McDonald. We hopped out to trek down small trails and admire more falls and scenery. The water was crystal clear, the stones underneath vibrantly colored and perfectly smooth—ideal for skipping, which seems to be Glacier’s unofficial pastime.
We didn’t want to risk losing our eastbound route, and we had hiking plans, so we doubled back with a new strategy: find any open trailhead with parking and make it count. We were geared up with hydration packs, snacks, and all-weather clothing. We weren’t about to leave without a hike. Boy, did we get one.
We found parking near a trailhead for The Loop, a multi-day trail that also allows for shorter day hikes. With little prior research (none), we picked a 4.5-mile hike to the Granite Park Chalet. We weren’t entirely sure what the Chalet was, but we were eager to get going. And besides, “chalet” gives Alpine vibes – I pictured meadows of wildflowers I could pick and weave into a crown. I could not have been more wrong.
It became clear very quickly that this would be a hot and exposed hike. With little to no shade, the sun beat down on us relentlessly. It might have been 75 degrees, but it felt much hotter. I had my trek poles, a game plan to take it slow, and a healthy dose of determination—but no sunhat, no inhaler, and no lightweight long sleeves – left those in the car. Rookie mistakes.
This trail might as well have been on the surface of the sun. I focused on my bootlaces, taking one step at a time. Pika—adorable little mountain rodents—scurried across the rocks, offering the only distraction.
After an hour, I encouraged the others to go ahead. Rob stayed back with me, despite my silent wish to be alone in my misery. The girls sprinted up the trail with the kind of energy I could only envy.
After two and a half hours, a 1,600-foot climb, and 2.5 miles, I knew I was done. We were still two miles from the top, and I didn’t have it in me. I turned back, disappointed, exhausted, and angry at my own limits. I had hoped I’d be further along—but still, I showed up. That counts.
Rob stayed with me, supporting me as always, until we arrived at the trailhead, before heading back up to meet Alyssa and Marlie on their way down the mountain. I collapsed in the Jeep’s front seat, where a kind group of hikers eventually (and gently) checked on me through the window. When I started awake, I realized I had been slumped over to the side with my head lolling off the seat, totally and completely passed out. Rob returned soon after, out of water, and not long after, the girls appeared—sunburned, blistered, and glowing with pride. They had made it. It turns out the Granite Chalet is a National Landmark, hike-in backcountry accommodations for multi-day hikers. So, in choosing to take The Loop, on a multi-day hike, you can also sleep in a room with strangers, eat freeze-dried food, and take care of your torn up feet at the Granite Chalet.
We drove the scenic road back quietly, each of us soaking in the cool air and surreal beauty of Glacier. After dinner and much-needed showers, we collapsed into our beds—tired, satisfied, and ready for a gentler adventure tomorrow. Maybe more of a nature walk. And definitely a moose hunt.
Today was both breathtaking and brutal. We traversed the iconic Going-to-the-Sun Road, chasing snowfields under a high mountain sun and searching for parking in a land of impossible beauty and impossible crowds. Despite setbacks and physical limits, we hiked through heat, elevation, and personal doubt to experience the quiet power of Glacier on foot. Some of us made it to the Chalet, some of us made peace with our own pace—but all of us ended the day tired, proud, and awed. This park doesn’t just show you nature; it humbles you with it. And in the strange stillness of a mountain evening, Black Hole Sun feels like the perfect echo.
End of Day Stats:
Mileage: 100 miles (driven); 15+ hiking/walking
Elevation Gains: 2,600 feet for some of us, 1,600 for others
States Today: elation, delusion, exhaustion
Rubber Ducks Deployed: 0 (out of respect for wildlife)
Wildlife Spotted: ~3 million pika, deer, mountain goat
Cue: Black Hole Sun by Soundgarden to vibe with Glacier’s dramatic and looming landscapes.
Wandering, But Not Lost 
Pace yourselves! This park is so awesome. Bruce and I went
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