Wandering, But Not Lost

Glacier and Banff Day 12: Nothing Else Matters

Day 12: July 8, 2025 – Banff, Alberta to Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan

Beginning the long road home hits like a gut punch—the kind that feels both inevitable and a little heartbreaking. With every mile eastward, the mountains faded in the rearview mirror, replaced by rolling hills and endless skies. It was a quiet kind of day—reflective, steady, and full of that familiar post-adventure ache. But as we made our way toward Moosejaw, there was peace in the motion and comfort in the company. The trip is winding down, but the memories are etched in deep. On this road, nothing else matters.

We officially began the long journey home today. This stretch of the trip can easily feel long and a little depressing if you’re not intentional with how you spend it. We made sure to build in plenty of time for the return so the days wouldn’t feel rushed or heavy. There’s so much to take in if you’re willing to slow down and look for it—and that’s exactly what we did. Lots of stops (just pulling off on the side of the road – not too many roadside attractions on the Great Plains of Canada), lots of time to stretch, sightsee, snack, and settle into the rhythm of the road.

Our first travel day brought us across the wide-open plains of midwestern Canada. Salt flats, coal mining operations, and fields of grain filled the landscape. The roads were flat, smooth, and often empty—we went hours at times without passing another vehicle. Near Medicine Hat, we saw a large metal tipi from the highway. This was originally built for the 1988 Calgary Olympics and relocated to Medicine Hat to mark the Saamis Archeological Site. Around dinnertime, we pulled off for a classic A&W stop, grabbing burgers and frosty mugs of root beer.

We rolled into Moosejaw, Saskatchewan by early evening, with enough time to make a grocery run at the Canadian Superstore (think: the Walmart of Canada). Grocery stores are one of my favorite road trip stops—I love checking out local brands and picking up a few surprises. This round’s haul included ketchup chips (delicious), purple kernel popcorn (just like regular popcorn, but with cool-colored kernels), and a few gallons of water to get us through the next few travel days.

At the last minute, we swapped our original Harvest Host stay for a KOA Journey right in Moosejaw. With the Jeep still out of commission, we didn’t want the hassle of detaching it in a parking lot. No complaints about the change—it meant long, hot showers and no need to run the generator. (My hearing has taken a real hit between the roar of Kevin’s cab and the generator on nights we’re boondocking.)

Before settling in for the night, we took a quick lap around the no-frills campground. Alyssa and Marlie were introduced to some “old-school” playground equipment: a half-broken merry-go-round, a springless metal seesaw, and a pair of swings—one of which was missing the seat, leaving only the exposed metal frame (which promptly ripped the zipper off Alyssa’s shorts). Rob and I gave a crash course in how to use this retro (read: deadly) playground setup and stood by nervously while the girls experimented, crossing our fingers that no one would need a tetanus shot or leave with their teeth in a bag. Good times.

End of Day Stats:
Mileage: 545 miles
Provinces Visited: 2
Canadian Businesses Visited: 2

Cue: Nothing Else Matters by Metallica – for a leg of the trip that was all about slowing down, letting go of the rush, and being present in the moment on the long road home.

Glacier and Banff Day 11: No Rain

Day 11: July 7, 2025 – Moraine Lake & Lake Louise, Banff NP

Some days are pure sunshine—where everything feels easy, light, and dreamlike. Today was that kind of day. We wandered through postcard-worthy views at Lake Louise and Moraine Lake, surrounded by water so blue it hardly seemed real. No rush, no pressure—just beauty everywhere we turned.

The day unfolded slowly, and the morning was absolutely perfect. While the girls slept in after our late-night visit to “Lake Louise After Dark,” Rob and I snuck off for a morning date: breakfast and a ride on the Summer Gondola at the Lake Louise Ski Area.

The 14-minute trip up Mount Whitehorn offered sweeping views of the valley, and in the distance, a glimpse of Lake Louise. As we climbed higher, we spotted a black bear scurrying into the woods—not a grizzly, but still a thrill to see wildlife wandering the mountain slopes.

If you squint really hard, you can see the bear in the top right corner near the woods.

These quiet morning escapes are some of my favorite travel moments. Even when we’re just sitting silently, breathing in the cool air and soaking in the views, I feel grounded. It reminds me that Rob and I share something rare—something enduring and absolutely worth the work it takes to maintain. These were the thoughts running through my mind as we reached 6,896 feet. I like to imagine Rob was feeling similarly sentimental, though let’s be honest—he was probably scanning the horizon for grizzlies. Either way, I’ll take it. I love our little morning jaunts.

By now, you’ve probably noticed—we don’t do many tours. We like to move at our own pace and avoid the large crowds. But since Moraine Lake no longer allows personal vehicles, and Parks Canada shuttles were sold out, we booked the next best thing: a bare-bones Moraine/Louise half-day tour out of Banff with a slightly questionable local company. I mean, all tours go to the same two lakes, right? Why one costs $174 per person and another just $40 is a mystery—until you see the bus. Think: straight out of a 1970s road trip movie.

But what the bus lacked in aesthetics, our tour guide Edward more than made up for in personality. A former Parks employee, Edward knew all the hidden paths, best photo ops, and fastest routes to the scenic overlooks. He kept us laughing, handed out cookies and cold water, and even offered to personally guide anyone who wanted a little extra insight at each stop.

(And yes, we drove all the way back to Banff this morning even though our campground was practically next door to Lake Louise. Why? Well, the ski area shuttle was fully booked and we had no idea when we planned this that “Banff” to “Lake Louise” would be a 45-minute drive… in the wrong direction. Tell me you didn’t do your research without telling me you didn’t do your research.)

Have you ever looked at a photo and thought, This has to be photoshopped? That’s Moraine Lake. Its striking turquoise color comes from glacial rock flour—fine sediment that reflects sunlight and creates an unreal shade of blue. We climbed the famous “Rock Pile” with a few hundred of our closest friends and snapped what might be the most surreal family photo of the trip. Edward treated us like models, directing us to pose one way and then the other.

Though the cafe was closed by the time we got there, we wandered along the lake’s edge, away from the crowds. We waded in the icy water until it physically hurt. “Cold” doesn’t quite cover it—Moraine Lake hovers around 41°F. Swimming isn’t encouraged due to the fragile ecosystem (and also, hypothermia), but canoeing and kayaking are fair game. A few species of trout and whitefish call it home.

Next, Lake Louise. Also stunning, but far more commercial. The Fairmont Chateau sits right on its shores. For a mere $2,000 a night (year-round), you can wake up to luxury and alpine views, whether your vibe is spa treatments or cross-country skiing. The grounds were immaculate—and absolutely swarming with people. I took a solo walk to escape the crowds while Rob and the girls snagged a bench to take in the scene.

Like Moraine, swimming at Lake Louise is strongly discouraged unless you’re aiming for a polar plunge. But hey, back home people pay big bucks for an ice bath.

On the way back, Edward gave us a bonus stop at one of Banff’s best scenic overlooks. As we pulled up, a small herd of Bighorn sheep trotted by—an unexpected treat to round out the afternoon. All in all, our little bargain tour turned out to be a win.

We didn’t have much time or energy left for exploring the Town of Banff, but the energy there is noticeably different from Jasper. Banff feels more upscale, with fancy shops and nightlife. Jasper’s charm is its local, laid-back feel. Both deserve a longer visit next time.

Tomorrow, we head back to Calgary—fingers crossed the Jeep is still parked where we left it and we don’t have to bribe a Mountie to spring it from impound!

End of Day Stats:
Mileage: 115
Impossibly blue lakes visited: 2
Rubber Ducks Deployed: I’m not even going to say it.
Filters Applied: 0

Cue: No Rain by Blind Melon—because today was sunshine in every sense.

Glacier and Banff Day 10: Today

Day 10: July 6, 2025 — Icefields Parkway: Lake Louise, Banff NP → Jasper, Jasper NP

Today felt infinite. We drove the Icefields Parkway—one of the most stunning stretches of road on the planet—through a dreamscape of turquoise lakes, ancient glaciers, and towering peaks that seem too beautiful to be real: bright, raw, and a little wild. It was a day to be fully alive—to stop at every scenic pull-off, to breathe in glacier-cooled air pouring through open windows. Today was the greatest.

You’d think that by this point in the trip we’d be over long drives—but no, we pushed on. After stashing the Jeep at a school near Calaway Park Campground (please, please, please let it still be there when we return on Tuesday!), we caravanned north in our new blue rental to the Lake Louise Hard-Sided Campground in the heart of Banff National Park. Another hour of uninterrupted audiobook time? Yes, please.

If Glacier National Park was impressive, Banff is best described in one word: vast. The Canadian Rockies rise high and wide, their snow-capped peaks thick with ancient glacial ice. Morning mist still clung to the mountaintops as we arrived. When we booked this leg of the trip, we’d done exactly zero research on Banff, having spent all our planning energy trying to crack Glacier’s reservation system. I knew I wanted to see Lake Louise, Moraine Lake, and drive the Icefields Parkway to Jasper—but did we understand where any of these places were in relation to our campground? Nope. Did we grasp just how far apart the towns of Banff, Lake Louise, and Jasper actually are? Also no.

Good thing there was plenty to look at.

Entering Banff. Reminder not to feed the wildlife!

Our Lake Louise campsite was spacious and level—definitely an upgrade from our slanted patch at Two Medicine. Though the campground was supposedly full, it felt nearly empty when we pulled in around 11:00 a.m. A quick lunch later, and we were off to explore the Icefields Parkway—a 141-mile stretch of winding mountain road connecting Lake Louise and Jasper. While 288 miles round-trip sounds like a haul, the day was broken up by stops at glacial-blue lakes, rushing streams, dramatic overlooks, and jaw-dropping vistas. With no plan and no pressure, we pulled over wherever we felt like it—stretching our legs, snapping photos, and craning our necks for wildlife. (Still no grizzly sightings… but statistically, with just 65 in all of Banff’s 1.6 million acres, it’s not surprising. Jasper has about 100 grizzlies spread across 2.7 million acres.) Incidentally, the Icefields Parkway is definitely where all the RVs from the Lake Louise Campground were spending the day. Unbelievable that people would choose to drive their motorhome on mountain switchbacks, but there is no shortage of them – and about half of them are rentals! No thank you. Blue rental for the win!

Roughly halfway up the Parkway, where Banff and Jasper National Parks meet, lies the Columbia Icefield: ancient, immense, and spectacular. Six glaciers make up this icy behemoth, covering 125 square miles and plunging as deep as 1,200 feet. While you can walk on the glacier, you’ll need proper gear and a guide or you could fall into a crevasse – given our track record on this trip, we decided not to tempt fate.. Instead, we opted to view it from the Visitor Centre, where a portion of the icefield is visible—and the air is strikingly colder than the rest of the Parkway. Cold enough, in fact, that I busted out a winter hat. One day, I’d love to return and walk on that glacier. For now, watching the massive Ice Explorer vehicles rumble across it was thrilling enough.

About an hour outside of Jasper, we drove through areas scorched by last summer’s wildfires. Over 79,000 acres burned after multiple lightning strikes and strong winds fanned the flames. More than 25,000 people—residents and tourists—were evacuated. The damage is still visible, but signs of life are everywhere: green shoots, wildflowers, and resilient grasses are reclaiming the charred forest floor. Along one stretch, a family of elk grazed peacefully by the road.

Jasper is a gem tucked into the heart of its namesake park. The first thing you notice is the town’s laid-back vibe—nothing fussy, just access to hiking, rafting, water sports, and epic wildlife viewing. Its streets are lined with restaurants, shops, and very happy dogs. It’s also a hub for both freight and passenger rail, offering cross-country service and regional tours. Jasper buzzes in the summer, and come winter, skiers flock to Marmot Basin. For a small town, it feels full of life—even as it continues to recover from last year’s fire.

Since it doesn’t get dark until nearly 11 p.m. in northern Alberta, we drove back to Lake Louise while it was still light. We stopped to take pictures of the moon rising over the mountains—and finally spotted a black bear! (A small one, but still adorable.) Rob insisted we drive down to Lake Louise for a sneak peek, so we wandered to the lakeshore. Under the night sky, the lake looked like a flat, black mirror—not super impressive at night. Tomorrow, we’ll see it in the daylight.

An amazing shot of the curtest little black bear.

Can’t wait!

End of Day Stats:
Mileage: 454 kilometers (282 miles)
National Parks Visited: 2
Rubber Ducks Deployed: 0 (I’m the WORST.)
Oohs & Ahhs!: Too many to count

Cue: Today by Smashing Pumpkins—for a stunningly beautiful and emotional day on the Icefields Parkway.

Glacier and Banff Day 9: Come As You Are

Day 9: July 5, 2025, Sweetgrass, MT → Calgary, AB

No reservations, no dress codes, no pretense—it’s the legendary Calgary Stampede, where grit, dust, and denim meet livestock and fried dough. Come as you are… and don’t forget your cowboy hat.

Part two of our vacation began in Canada. We crossed the border easily after declaring no tobacco, alcohol, or firearms. (It’s a good thing they don’t judge you on appearance because the amount of bedhead in this camper was at a threat level midnight.) We did admit to the bear spray, two bananas, and a half a quart of strawberries, but the border agent gave us the green light, and we throttled on toward Enterprise Rent-A-Car, where I left the lot in a Nissan Versa with a solid 40 minutes of solo audiobook time. Not a lot of alone time on this trip, so a stretch with the new Hunger Games prequel felt luxurious… and quiet. As fun as it is to ride in Kevin, she is one loud mama-jama.

We rolled into Calaway Campground and RV Park on the outskirts of Calgary, three vehicles deep. Every site, tent space, and spare patch of grass was packed with campers—it seems people come from everywhere for the Calgary Stampede. We decided to join the crowd.

But not before trading in the Versa for a rental with working turn signals (at this point, we expected the unexpected, so this was a mere blip on the radar). Enter: the electric-blue Mitsubishi Odyssey. Hail-pocked, with a hole in the bumper and a touchscreen that worked on nearly 75% of the surface —completely on brand for this trip.

The Stampede is Canada’s ten-day premier agricultural festival, affectionately known as “The Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth.” It draws over a million visitors annually and features one of the world’s largest rodeos, a parade, midway, stage shows, concerts, agricultural competitions, chuckwagon racing, and First Nations exhibitions. And it all takes place right in the heart of downtown Calgary. If Disney World and The Big E had a baby, it’d be the Stampede. It doesn’t matter who you are or where you’re from—at the Stampede, you’re a cowboy.

Outfits ranged from broken-in Wranglers and Ariat boots to sequined miniskirts and raffia cowboy hats with cheetah-print bands. Anything goes. First Nations culture was also deeply honored—tipis were set up, pow-wows were held, and Indigenous arts, crafts, and traditions were proudly shared.

Stampede Entrance – coliseum where Shania performed

We happened to visit on the Stampede’s second full day—the first had been rained out. As luck would have it, Canada’s National Treasure, Shania Twain, was headlining that night. The people-watching? Elite. The crowds only grew as the day went on. We caught the rodeo and watched pony races, bronco riding, and steer wrestling. The competitors had names like Stran, Riggin, Lefty, and Gus. It was pure rodeo: lots of beer, boots, horses, and cows. And a whole lot of fun.

After we’d had our fill of livestock and fried food, we headed back to the campground for laundry and laziness. It was a good day—stress-free, carefree, and the perfect lead-in to the next chapter: Banff National Park.

End of Day Stats:
Mileage: 210 miles
States/Provinces Today: MT → AB
Rubber Ducks Deployed: 0 (honestly, we forgot)
Cowboy hats counted: nobody knows

Rental Cars: 2 Cue:Come As You Are by Nirvana—because everyone, from real ranchers to wide-eyed tourists, city-slickers to rodeo legends, shows up just as they are, and finds themselves part of something real.

Glacier and Banff Day 8: Are You Gonna Go My Way?

July 4, 2025 – Two Medicine Campground, East Glacier National Park to Sweetgrass, MT (U.S./Canada border)

We may be lacking in cars and lacking in sleep, but spontaneity? That’s alive and well. Plans shifted and a national holiday played into some unexpected complications. But, when one border crossing closes, another one is a full three hours away. Something has to go our way!

July 4th in the National Parks should be a cause for true celebration! What’s more American than exploring the wild west and grilling out over a campfire? Though no one wanted to admit it this morning, we were all a bit tense and unsure about the progression of our vacation now that we were without the Jeep. Not having a towed vehicle would make our visit to Banff infinitely more complex. Luckily, we had a day around Two Medicine planned, so we took our time getting ready and making our way down to Two Medicine Lake, where we had scheduled a boat ride for the early afternoon—eager to explore the park from our campground.

Before our boat ride, we each broke off for a bit of adventuring. Rob and Alyssa tried their hand at fishing in Two Medicine Lake, near our camper. Marlie and I canoed across the lake and took in the amazing views from the middle of the water. I’m a pretty decent kayaker but a hopeless canoer. We were amazing on the way out—wind at our backs—but got spun and pushed around pretty dramatically on the return. No one capsized, though, so we’re counting it as a win.

Around 12:30, we checked in for our 1:00 boat ride on the Sinopah, the passenger boat that ferries hikers across Two Medicine Lake to the more remote trailheads. Rob and Alyssa didn’t make the boat, but Marlie and I forged ahead. The ride was short, maybe 15 minutes, but our guide, Abi, packed it with stories and information.

Two Medicine is considered the most sacred part of Glacier by the Blackfeet Tribe. According to legend, a wise elder woman selected the site of a medicine hut each year, but one year, two women were chosen—each building their own hut on opposite sides of the river. Thus, the name: Two Medicine.

Abi also shared the legend of Rising Wolf, a white trapper who became part of the Blackfeet tribe, and Sinopah, daughter of Chief Lone Walker. Rising Wolf, so named for the way he stretched and growled like a wolf upon waking, wanted to marry Sinopah but was terrified of her father’s two pet grizzly bears. On the day of the wedding, Lone Walker spat into Rising Wolf’s hand and placed it over the bears’ snouts, so they would recognize his scent. What a wedding gift! Today, all three names—Rising Wolf, Lone Walker, and Sinopah—are immortalized in the names of the towering peaks that ring the lake.

We picked an easy two-mile hike to Twin Falls. Abi offered a guided hike up to the falls, sharing insight on local plant life and wildlife. We stayed with the group for a bit but eventually peeled off to avoid the bottleneck of eager hikers.

Bear Grass is everywhere in this part of the park—odd, tall, cottony tufts that make the terrain feel vaguely like the forest moon of Endor. Abi told us Lewis and Clark thought bears ate it (they don’t—deer do), hence the name. The meadows were full of wildflowers. We crossed narrow bridges and a wobbly suspension bridge that added just enough thrill. The forest felt storybook-perfect. We reached the falls, dipped our hands into the frigid water, and made our way back down in time for the return boat ride.

On the way back across the lake, the group spotted a mountain goat and a grizzly high on the ridgeline of Rising Wolf. I wish I could say I spotted the grizzly myself, but I didn’t. Still, pretty thrilling to know it was up there, watching.

Back at the camper, we had some tough decisions to make. We didn’t drive nearly 40 hours to turn back now. We could tow the Jeep even if it didn’t run, and if need be, we could drive around in Kevin. Not ideal, but doable. Our dreamy vision of a July 4th barbecue was quickly drowned by rain, so we pivoted.

We did the only logical thing: packed up Kevin, and left Two Medicine, heading to Browning to pick up the Jeep (still broken) from the tow yard and continued on to Calgary. Why not? If we crossed the border tonight, we could get to the campground early and be ready for a full day at the Calgary Stampede tomorrow. Long hot showers and laundry were calling. I even reserved a rental car online so we’d be mobile in Banff. Things were looking up.

Until they weren’t. We picked up the Jeep, hitched it up in ankle-deep mud, and drove to the Del Bonita border crossing around 8:00 PM—only to find it closed. Of course. A holiday. Because of course. The nearest open border was in Sweetgrass, nearly three hours away, and the backroads were a carnival ride of bumps, gravel, and washboard. It’s likely little bits of Kevin have been scattered across Montana’s finest county roads.

So, no, we didn’t cross into Canada on July 4th. We had not one but two campground reservations we didn’t use and ended up half-parked in a ditch next to a row of idling tractor-trailers, about a hundred yards from the Canadian border. I mean, if you don’t spend at least one night at a truck stop, questioning your personal safety, have you really taken a road trip?

It wasn’t the day we planned, but it pulled us out of our self-pity and pumped a little adrenaline into our veins. Tomorrow, the Stampede… YAHOO!

End of Day Stats:
Mileage: 65 miles to one border and then 75 miles to a different border
States Today: MT → MT
Rubber Ducks Deployed: 0
Hippos: Giving haughty looks of derision
Wildlife Spotted: One long-eared jackrabbit at the Del Bonita border crossing, mountain goat, grizzly (ok, I didn’t spot it, but it was there, I swear)

Cue: Are You Gonna Go My Way? by Lenny Kravitz, for when the path ahead makes no sense but you go anyway.

Glacier and Banff Day 7: Semi-Charmed Life

Day 7: July 3, 2025, Many Glacier, East Glacier National Park

Rob lays on the 30 gallon water bladder to force water out of the bag and into Kevin’s water tank. 7 AM

Was today charming? Sort of. Was it a mess? Also yes. We nursed blisters, laughed too hard, hung out with a moose or two, and nearly had to hitchhike back to camp. But honestly? We wouldn’t change a thing (well, maybe one thing). This is the semi-charmed life we signed up for.

Many Glacier is the lusher, greener, more wildlife-rich side of Glacier National Park: think Jurassic Park. It’s also less commercial than the western side—and this season, significantly under construction. With no camping allowed in the Many Glacier Campground (thanks to water system and road upgrades), access is very limited.

Turn off and parking for Many Glacier shuttle

Unless you’re staying at the lodge, hopping a Red Jammer tour, have boat tickets, or scored shuttle passes—you’re out of luck. Luckily, we landed shuttle tickets between 9–10 AM.

Running on blistered feet and determination (with a side of moleskin and Band-Aids), we dragged ourselves out of the camper after yesterday’s escapades, ready for what we hoped would be a low-key nature walk.

Spoiler: It wasn’t. (But,you probably already guessed that if you are not new to this blog.)

From the impressive, lederhosen-staffed Many Glacier Lodge (straight out of the Swiss Alps), we consulted a park ranger who suggested a trail labeled Green (easy)—a 2.3-mile hike to Redrock Falls with only 600 feet of elevation. Perfect!

Except… that distance was from the actual trailhead, which we were three miles away from. Whoops. By the time we realized this, we were too far in—and too charmed—to turn back. Our “easy” hike turned into a 10-mile trek. But what we got in return? Pure magic.

List of trails accessible from Many Glacier Lodge

Down a spur trail to Fishercap Lake, Rob spotted a bull moose, standing shoulder-deep, dunking for lake greens like it was a salad buffet. Calm, regal, and wildly photogenic, he let us gawk and snap from a respectful distance. One moose. Four humans. At least 200 photos. Zero regrets.

Redrock Lake was a stunner—glacial blue and pristine. At the top of Redrock Falls, Rob waded in, Alyssa and Marlie discovered a snake (no thank you), and I soaked my sore feet in glacial runoff. Cold therapy meets mild screaming.

On our way back? Moose encore! This time, two bull moose snacking side by side. Another 150 photos later, we felt like we’d stumbled into a wildlife documentary. Quiet, peaceful, and nearly empty of people—Many Glacier had officially soared to the top of the vacation list.

Back at the Jeep and dreaming of s’mores and an easy evening… cue the chaos. Twenty minutes from camp, the Jeep erupted in a loud bang, smoke poured from the hood, and the dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree. Rob coasted us safely to a grassy patch outside the Kyiyo Mercantile in Browning, MT.

Cell service? Nonexistent.
Panic level? Medium-high.
Mercantile angels? 100% real.

They called Coleen and AJ from A & C Towing, who showed up within 30 minutes, loaded up our poor Toad, and offered to store it for the long weekend. Did I mention it’s the 4th of July weekend and no mechanics are open until Monday?

While Alyssa and Marlie snacked and made friends with the shop dog, Rob and I made the call: salvage what’s left of the evening and head back to Two Medicine in the back of Coleen’s Chevy Sliverado. No harsh words. No drama. Just quiet acceptance—and maybe a touch of shock-induced numbness.

We were doing fine until at the Two Medicine entrance, Rob realized we left the camper keys in the Jeep’s dashboard compartment. Thirty miles away. Back in Browning.

It’s not the good times that define a relationship. It’s how you act in moments like these when you are up against a wall, faced with adversity and filled with a blinding rage that really defines a couple’s fortitude.

Let’s just say… it was a good thing I was in the back seat.

End of Day Stats:

Mileage Hiked: 10ish miles

States Visited: Awe, joy, disbelief, shock

Rubber Ducks Deployed: 1 (Many Glacier Lodge lobby)

Wildlife Seen: deer, snake, and moose (not sure if I mentioned this)

Cue: “Semi-Charmed Life” by Third Eye Blind for a perfect blend of chaos and charm.

Glacier and Banff Day 6: Black Hole Sun

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.

Glacier and Banff Day 5: Even Flow

Day 5: July 1, 2025, Malta, MT – Two Medicine Campground, Glacier National Park

Today was mellow, with smooth roads, scenic overlooks, and a surprisingly chill family vibe. Nothing dramatic, nothing broken, and only one passive-aggressive comment about parking the camper. From scenic Montana buttes and prairie towns to the first glimpses of the Rockies, the journey was filled with contrast and anticipation. Each family member brings a unique vibe to the trip—some thrive on the road, others in the woods—but we’ve found our groove.Travel flow: achieved.

The morning began with views of the Little Rocky Mountains, a modest but distinctive range rising 2,500 feet above the surrounding plains. Despite their relatively low elevation (Antoine Butte tops out at 5,720 feet), they’re striking in contrast to the flat prairie. These rugged buttes, part of the Fort Belknap Indian Reservation, mark one of the last geological features before the true Rockies rise. Road construction made this part of the trip slow and dusty!!

We followed this truck through the construction zone for about 5 miles.

We stopped for provisions at Walmart in Havre, the largest town we’ve seen on US-2 so far. Granola bars, drinking water, and more bread – good grief, we go through a LOT of bread!. A little farther west, we gave Kevin (our RV) a much-needed spa day at Chester’s Car Wash. It took three of us—one on power wash duty, one with the long-handled brush, and one manning the quarters—but by the end, Kevin was bug-free and gleaming. Honestly, this may have been Rob’s favorite stop yet.

As we cruised westward, the Bear Paw Mountains came into view—another unexpected rise on the plains. They stood solitary and stoic, breaking up the vast Montana landscape.

I’ve had people ask whether the kids really enjoy RV travel, and the answer, as with most things parenting, is: it depends.

Amaya, our oldest, is not with us this summer—off on an adventure with her boyfriend, Matt. I’m thrilled for her. She’s earned this time and space.
Kai also opted out this year. He’s saving up for his car and spending time with his close-knit crew. I respect his decision and suspect we’ll lure him back next year with talk of ATVs and target shooting.
Marlie is our road-tripper. She hops out at random stops, entertains herself with art, snacks, and music, and turns the over-cab bunk into her creative nest. While she’s less keen on the “camping” part—bugs, dirt, general wildness—she’s present and positive.
Alyssa is the opposite. She goes into hibernation during drives, nestled in her bunk with headphones and a sleep mask, emerging only when nudged. But once camp is set up, she comes alive: frog-chasing, mud-stomping, fishing for hours. Hiking? She’ll go—sometimes reluctantly—but can surprise us all with spurts of bold, adventurous energy.

It’s wild to think how far we’ve come since our first RV trip. Back then, we were flying blind, crashing at truck stops and missing half the journey in our rush to the destination. Now, we’ve refined our style. We’re more flexible, more prepared, and definitely more relaxed. With upgraded cookware, better route planning, and a few seasons under our belts, the journey—yes, cliché incoming—really has become the best part.

Around Shelby, the Rocky Mountains finally appeared on the western horizon. Even from more than 100 miles away, they were breathtaking. Rob was glowing.

As we drove, I researched trail closures in Glacier National Park. I had hoped to hike the Grinnell Glacier Trail, but snow and bear activity closed major portions of it. Fortunately, Two Medicine offers beautiful alternatives right from our campground. We’re still planning to drive the Going-to-the-Sun Road and stop at Logan Pass, but it’s Glacier—is there really any shortage of sights to see?.

After Cut Bank, we glimpsed even more snow-capped peaks before detouring around Route 49 (too tight for our rig) and heading through Browning and East Glacier Village to approach Two Medicine from the east. The drive in was beautiful—rustic, serene, and flanked by wild scenery. We rolled into the Two Medicine Campground, flashed our America the Beautiful Pass, and found our assigned site in Loop C, where we balanced Kevin on a leveling jacks and made peace with a slightly tilted camper.

Two Medicine is remote and rugged. Three campground loops ring the lake, mixing tents, vans, and RVs. Even backpackers hiking in on foot have reserved sites. Towering peaks surround Two Medicine Lake, mirrored perfectly in its still waters. As we set up, a gang of scruffy mountain goats wandered through, bold and goofy. It was the welcome we needed after some long travel days.

After grilling dinner, a trip down to dunk our feet in Two Medicine Lake and a quick hike to stretch our legs, we doubled back through East Glacier Village to gas up the Jeep for tomorrow’s exploration—and spotted our first bear! A cinnamon-colored black bear casually crossed the road and vanished into the trees. A thrilling moment and a good reminder to stay bear-aware.

The evening was wrapped in nature’s soundtrack: frogs croaking, bugs humming, wind rustling the leaves. It feels like we’re in the right place. Sleep comes easy when the world around you is this still, this alive.

Tomorrow, we are going to the sun!

End of Day Stats:
Mileage: 270 miles
States Today: MT → MT
Rubber Ducks Deployed: 0
Hippos: Ready to rest!

Cue: Even Flow by Pearl Jam as we lean into that natural flow of travel and adventure.

Glacier and Banff Day 4: Into the Great Wide Open

Day 4, June 30, 2025 — Leonard, ND → Malta, MT

The trees thinned, the sky stretched out forever, and suddenly the world felt huge. There’s a moment on every trip when the horizon swallows you whole—and this was it. We rolled into the great wide open, chasing adventure on four wheels (plus towing four wheels), trusting the road to take us somewhere unforgettable.

Before leaving Sheyenne Oaks this morning, we were visited by a surprise guest—the friendliest dog we’ve ever met. He appeared out of nowhere, tail wagging, and trotted right into the RV like he lived there. Not a bark, not a beg, not a shoe out of place—just calm companionship and happy sighs as he soaked up belly rubs. A perfect canine sendoff as we headed out via dirt road and back onto I-94.

Thoughts from the Road:

What are pelicans doing in North Dakota?
What if we get blown off the road from the strong crosswinds?
What is this yellow crop? (Turns out it’s canola.)

Around lunchtime, we took one of our favorite detours of the day: the Enchanted Highway, a 32-mile roadside art installation made entirely of scrap metal. Created by local artist Gary Geff, the sculptures are massive and surreal—rising from the plains like a dream. Most of the metal is old scrap metal from oil field materials, vehicles, and machinery. We stopped at the first two installations on the route:

Geese in Flight (the world’s largest scrap metal sculpture—left a duck here!)
Deer Crossing, which features a walkable maze

We grilled burgers roadside and the girls tossed a football under perfect 80-degree skies. Sunshine, breezes, and burgers—it doesn’t get more road trip than that.

Our next detour came courtesy of Theodore Roosevelt National Park. We pulled off at the Painted Canyon Overlook and were rewarded with sweeping views of the multi-colored Badlands. Way down in the canyon, we spotted a juvenile bison grazing in the shade. Dad’s zoom lens came in clutch—thank goodness for real cameras in moments like this.

With three hours and fifteen minutes left to Malta, we left the interstates behind and crossed into Montana. We’re officially in Big Sky Country.

From Wibaux to Malta, Route 2 winds through the Great Plains—rolling, open, and starkly beautiful. Scrubby grass, scattered cattle, and tiny towns spaced just far enough apart to make you feel truly remote. We passed more roadside sculptures, including the Hillside Animal Statues in Glasgow and a whimsical Chinese Dragon in Saco. No traffic. No people. Just Kevin, the Jeep, and us.

The land flattens again as we neared Malta, broken only by distant hills that get Rob unreasonably excited. Every time they appear, he yells, “Mountains!” and I dutifully snap photos even though I know the Rockies are still hours away. But hey, he’s the driver. He gets hopeful.

As we pulled into Malta, we wrapped up our second full audiobook. Plot twist? Totally got us. Dozens of wild guesses later, we were wrong again. But we’re hooked. These thrillers are our driving soundtrack and the hippos are keeping score. (Spoiler: the hippos are unimpressed.)

Malta is small—like, really small. We aimed for Trafton Park, a first-come, first-served campground with water hookups. Just $5 in an envelope, and you’re good to go. We found a pull-through site quickly, surrounded by rodeo grounds, cattle auction lots, and a scattering of tent campers and cars (though, likely, some were just parked for the night).

Dinner was at Stretch’s Pizza, a short walk across the train tracks. While waiting for our order, Rob challenged me to an air hockey rematch. This time, I emerged victorious. My redemption arc is complete.

We ended the day battling mosquitoes with After Bite and collapsing into bed, ready for tomorrow. Glacier National Park is just four hours away—and I’m more than ready to see the Rockies rise up on the horizon. Bring on the mountains.

End of Day Stats:
Mileage: 602 miles
States Today: ND → MT
Rubber Ducks Deployed: 2
Hippos: Dusty, observant, and skeptical of our amateur detective skills. Holding steady.

Cue: Into the Great Wide Open by Tom Petty – to inspire that awestruck feeling of being in so much space!

Glacier and Banff Day 3: Where the Streets Have No Name

Day 3, June 29, 2025 — Poplar Grove, IL → Leonard, ND

The further west we go, the more the world opens up. By the afternoon, we’d left behind street signs, traffic, and strip malls—driving straight into the unknown. No cars. No mile markers. Just winding roads, rolling plains, and the creeping sense that we had finally made it to somewhere truly wild. This is the part of the map where things get real.

Rob and I woke up early and took a long walk around the grounds of the Poplar Grove Airport and museum in the cool morning air. Before heading out, we spent a few quiet moments with our morning coffee and I left a duck at the foot of the statue in front of the hangar—another marker of our journey left behind for someone else to find.

Early morning at the Poplar Grove Airport

After a quick Walmart run to stock up on water and some much-needed rechargeable fans, we were on the road again—cutting across Wisconsin and Minnesota with our sights set on North Dakota by nightfall.

Given how much ground we needed to cover today, we did not stop at as many roadside attractions. We agreed on one planned stop: The Goat Tower in Waunakee, WI. Interestingly, this is not a mini-golf course or a petting zoo, but a Bavarian-themed manufacturing business (because why not?) created by the Endres family—four generations in and still going strong. The property boasts a quirky goat playground in Kappel Park, where actual goats (and their adorable kids) frolic up and down the whimsically spiraled Goat Tower. I had to do a double take to judge whether or not the goats were actually real. Equal parts charming and strange—10/10 roadside attraction. Marlie fed the goats all of our lettuce (an approved snack) while I made friends with a certain bearded black goat, and now we both want goats.

Wisconsin is a place I still want more time to explore. It’s full of surprises, from the Dells, which is the Waterpark Capital of the World to stunning lakes and some fascinating cities. The state is known for its food industries too: brewing, cranberries, and, of course, dairy. Local convenience stores boast a variety of local agricultural products such as pickles, pastries and lefse, a Norwegian flatbread common in areas with large Scandinavian populations. And then there is the cheese: blocks of cheese, cheese spreads, flavored cheese, cheese curds on cheese curds, cheese whips and more! To say there is an abundance of cheese is an understatement.

Seen on the highway in Wisconsin – Smokey and the Bandit – TransAm

Minnesota’s terrain is diverse. In our journey across the midsection of the state, we passed rolling hills that eventually flattened into an agricultural grid of wheat and sugar beets. I imagine what it must have been like to be Laura Ingalls or Sarah Wheaton, two of my favorite characters from childhood books. Their families traveled by wagon and they endured life out on the prairie in all seasons! While it is beautiful and fertile now, in summer, I imagine that the winters were long and harsh. They must have gone weeks without seeing another soul. I am left with new appreciation for those who settled here, worked the land, and how connected they were with the natural world around them.

As we pushed toward North Dakota, grain processing facilities lined the highway. The thunderheads started forming in the distance—massive, towering clouds promising a good Midwestern storm.

We made a slight change in our planned route thanks to a GPS showdown. One route would get us to the campground 45 minutes earlier. We picked it, naturally. Only once we stopped for gas did we realize the new route involved several miles of unpaved roads. Too late to turn back. We pressed on, knowing that at least now we have Starlink—which gives Rob a lot more confidence behind the wheel. If we ended up stranded in the middle of the prairie, at least we could call a tow truck from County Route Who-Knows-What-Number.

Without a lot of stops, we entertain ourselves with audiobooks and podcasts while the kids sleep, watch movies, or game in their bunks. We do also talk to one another and play some car games, but I-Spy gets to be a little redundant when everything is green, the buildings are few and far between, and the only animals you see are cattle. Yesterday’s audiobook was a total flop—too complicated, too many characters, and way too much thinking. We bailed. Today, we pivoted to a new murder mystery thriller. It’s essentially a Lifetime movie in book form. Perfect road trip fare. We pause often to hash out our theories, clarify plot holes, or just admit we weren’t paying attention. Call us amateur sleuths in training. Watch your back, Charlie Cale—we’ve been watching way too much Poker Face.

Hello, North Dakota! Crossing the Minnesota-North Dakota border, we noticed a sudden uptick in farming equipment for sale and a collection of industrial buildings dedicated to agricultural engineering. Farms here don’t just grow food—they’re often research facilities for agroscience.

Fun fact dump:

90% of North Dakota is farm or ranch land
ND is the #1 honey producer in the U.S.
The entire state has 797,000 people… fewer than Hartford County, CT (896,000), which is less than 1/100 the size.
Needless to say, we earned the North Dakota sticker on Kevin’s map door today.

Again, beautiful in the summer. Not sure we’d brave it in the winter.

The seven miles of dirt roads into the campground were wide, technically 55 mph zones—though at that speed, the Jeep would have disintegrated. Kevin is now wearing a coat of dust and bug goo so thick we may need to rename her. She’s looking… rugged. We passed exactly ZERO cars in the 30 minutes it took us to navigate them.

When I called to confirm our late arrival at Sheyenne Oaks Campground, the kind woman on the phone had that quintessential Midwestern lilt—warm, casual, and totally unbothered. “Just pull in, you’re all set,” she said. No gate codes, no paperwork. Just good vibes. I could’ve listened to her talk all day.

The Sheyenne National Grasslands themselves are stunning—over 70,000 acres of federal land plus 123 acres of private trails. More than 40 miles of marked routes offer opportunities for hiking, biking, horseback riding, kayaking, bird watching, hunting, and fishing. Sadly, we’ll be doing none of those.

As we entered the Sheyenne National Grasslands, we spotted trailheads, rustic campsites, clusters of trees, and a few deer grazing in the soft twilight. Gorgeous and wild—right in the middle of all that farmland.

We arrived at Sheyenne Oaks Campground in Leonard, ND a little after 9PM – while it was still very light outside! Sheyenne Oaks lived up to its promise. The paddocks were right next to each RV site. The grounds were clean, quiet, and surrounded by woods. Rod, one of the owners (likely the husband of the kind woman on the phone), personally guided us to our pull-through site. Bonus: the Jeep is still hitched—hasn’t been disconnected the entire trip.

This unique campground caters to both RVers and equestrians. Riders can bring their horses, camp with them, and explore the Sheyenne National Grasslands by day, boarding their horses in private paddocks by night. After dinner, we wandered the grounds, saying hello to more horses than people, until darkness finally caught up with us. We counted at least eight sites with horses, their heads poking out over paddock gates. Our first time camping with horses!

We left another duck near the drop box and took advantage of the full hookups—hello, glorious hot showers.

Tomorrow, we ride into Montana. One step closer to Glacier.

DUCK UPDATE!
Shoutout to Samantha from Chicago! She and her family found one of our ducks at the tri-state marker in Fremont, IN—on their first day of vacation. They looked up the blog and reached out to say hi. So cool! We love hearing from people who find them—if you’re reading this and you’ve found one of our ducks, drop us a line!

Mileage: 608ish miles
States Today: IL → WI → MN → ND
Rubber Ducks Deployed: 2
Hippos: Minor side-eye during GPS drama. Coated in dust and concern.

Cue: Where the Streets Have No Name by U2… seriously, “County Road” isn’t much to go on!