Because the nature of our nomadic lifestyle revolves around finding co-working offices (not to mention breweries), we inevitably find ourselves in proper campgrounds. Some times we get lucky camping in a state park by the lake, but then you can’t beat a good boondocking spot in the middle of nowhere.

After leaving Whitefish, we found ourselves an awesome remote spot for the weekend. On the far side of the river: Glacier National Park. On our side of the river: National Forest land, home to the most perfect rustic camping spot, right on the riverbank, surrounded by nature.

This’ll do nicely, thank you very much
… and relax… just chilling by the river
Although best not to chill too much, there’s clean bullet holes through the pit-toilet window

With a little stone fire ring already in place, Darren thought it would be a shame to waste it, even though it was still pretty warm out.

And then the sky itself caught fire.

After a week of nightly rumbling, screeching and earthquake-like vibrations in Whitefish, it was such a relief to not be within earshot of those damn trains. Although as far as a good night’s sleep was concerned, the local mice had other ideas. So much smaller than a train but just as mighty. Been there, done that, not going to regale you with any more mouse trapping stories.

Talking of wildlife, we spotted a moose the next day on our way into the park.

Not quick enough to get the moose shot.
So here’s a very photogenic deer instead.

The scenery on the way into the park was rugged. The stalwart tree remnants of a 2001 forest fire stood sentry, like proud steel-grey spears of invisible soldiers.

OK Canada, we get it, you’re just rubbing it in now.
Misty & atmospheric first thing in the morning

Polebridge was the only two shop stop town between us and Glacier NP. Like a one horse town, only smaller. It consisted of 1) the Polebridge Mercantile, proudly established in 1914, selling huckleberry bear claws and other freshly baked goods along with anything else you might want, including locally made Montana mustard or a stuffed mountain goat head.

And 2) The Northern Lights Saloon.

…which turned out to be closed. We were a week too early, damnit.

And so, Glacier National Park, here we come. (Again)

Darren joyfully anticipating the day ahead

The previous weekend we’d done one of the most stunning bike rides ever, in Glacier NP. This weekend, the hike we did in the park could be categorized as not the most stunning hike ever, in fact maybe even the most underwhelming hike of the trip.

It started off promising, with lovely views as we set off from Bowman Lake. Little did we know they were the best (pretty much the only) views we’d get on the whole walk to Lower Quartz Lake and back.

The main problem was fallen trees. To the extent it felt more like an obstacle course than a hike.

The smaller/lower ones (unfortunately a tiny minority), you could merely step over. Job done, no big deal, what you whinging about.

Just a little tiddler, even I could manage that one with a smile

Most however, required various levels of clambering, arms and legs akimbo, trying to avoid the snapped off branch stumps and knots in precarious places. I am not bendy, supple or good at climbing. I am also not quiet when it comes to expressing my dissatisfaction.

Yet other ‘Tree Blocked Trail’ obstacles required limboing under or crawling under, getting way too up close and personal with the other creepy crawlies on the forest floor. At least I had the upper hand over Darren here, my short legs and frame for once an advantage.

When all else failed and it was impossible to go over or under, the only remaining option was to go around, bushwhacking through the jungle (technically the forest but it felt as dense, impenetrable and inhospitable as a jungle).

Not impressed

To distract from this nonsense on the way back, we decided to count the fallen tree obstacles, coming up with a song with the relevant number in the lyrics. Play along with me then… 🎶

1, 2, 3, easy peasy, starting with Robbie Williams “She’s the One”, then Rolf Harris “Two little boys had two little toys”. Followed by “Three blind mice” (and Three Times a Lady… but quite honestly, once I had three blind mice playing on repeat in my head, it took a momentous effort to move on). Got stuck on six, and felt obliged to loosen the rules to allow ‘similar’ words. What should come to mind but Right Said Fred’s “I’m too Sexy for my …”

With cheat rules enabled, we fared quite well up to nineteen “N-n-n-n-nineteen”. After that, the trees were coming thick and fast, erm, the song lyrics not so much. Should have realized we were on to a loser, I mean who sings about 27, let alone 32. Yes indeed, a total of 32 fallen trees. That’s 8 per mile. Or a total of 64 damn trees to negotiate on the full out and back route. (🎵 When I’m 64…)

What we needed after all that palaver was a wee dram to take away the pain. Well, would you look at that, Glacier Distilling. Don’t mind if I do.

Totally looking forward to going to work on Monday if it means not climbing over/under/around any more trees!