An Epic Journey To Glacier National Park

Behind the Logan Pass Visitor Center, an enchanting trail awaits. Hit the Hidden Overlook Trail in mid to late July when more snow will be melted so the path is easily accessible.

From the forests that fill the Pacific Northwest to the Rocky Mountain highways that curve and climb the alpine tree line, past calderas, turquoise waters, and volcanic-laden land, the drastically different terrain that connects our nation is truly wondrous.

I saw sights I've dreamt of for ages, left pieces of my heart and soul scattered across new state lines. And in exchange for the bits of me that I left along the way, I gained life-changing experiences, collected countless memories (and memorabilia) and met awe-inspiring people I'll never forget.

Zigzagging through the amber waves of grain of Idaho's Snake River Plain, John Denver was the background sound for many, many miles. I listened to more John Denver on this two-week trip than I have in my 29 years combined. I crossed the continental divide at 8,391 feet feeling queasy and short of breath in Wyoming, and then again at 7,988 feet where my AMS symptoms were slowly beginning to subside. 

I roamed high desert plateaus and barely populated basins where thunderstorms to the north stretched as far as my eyes could see. And to the south, the sun pierced through a smattering of scattered clouds so fiercely that I got sunburned in my car. I wound up getting car sunburns three, four…upwards of five or six times in my 17 days on the road. And usually only on the side of my face and body that the sun had been shining on. I never even knew that was possible!

I crossed lava flows in Idaho and hiked around one of the world's most powerful supervolcanoes; Yellowstone. All in a day's adventure I inhaled some of the freshest then the fartiest air I'd ever smelled. I walked within spritzing distance of belching geysers and swallow-you-whole hot springs. I conquered more unpaved roads than interstates, felt more sunshine than rain, spent more hours in the car than I did in beds. Actually, that part's probably not true, but I can almost guarantee that bugs took more bites out of me than I took out of anything on that trip.

I traveled through a never-ending expanse of perfect patchwork farmlands, where blankets of crops appeared seamlessly stitched together like a gorgeous, rural quilt of green, yellow and gold. Double rainbows arched over one long, straight stretch of road in eastern Oregon and I blasted Chubby Checker as loud as my speakers would allow.

I made my way from one Indian Reservation to the next, lowering my music to get lost in my mind's mixture of history and imagination. And as I coasted from small town to smaller town following snow-covered summits that faded into rich, rolling hills, I felt right at home in places I'd never been before.

Bob Dylan, George Harrison, and Jerry Garcia were a few of the regulars on the soundtrack of my expedition. But I suppose that goes without saying. Along the way, I also discovered a song called "An American Dream" by the Nitty Gritty Band. I became obsessed with it and played it more than a person should ever play a song on a trip. Interestingly, it seems to be a song about a couple's dream of escaping America for Jamaica, but its sound gelled with my journey so well, I just had to put it on after every saloon I stopped in for a spell.

I think I found my Jamaica in the snow-capped mountains of Montana. There, beneath a vast sea of stars, beside towering walls of Earth, I sang the catchy tune to myself, "Voila! An American Dream – yeah we can travel girl without any means – when it's as easy as closin' your eyes – and dream Jamaica is a big neon sign!"

It didn't happen the minute I set wheels on the park's pavement, but as soon as I marched down the trail to the pebbled shore of Lake McDonald, I was completely taken. I'd been looking at pictures of that place for years and to finally be there, actually looking at it, took my breath away. I sat on the colorful stones and listened to the tiny, gentle waves washing over, while pine trees and white mountain peaks showed off in the background. 

If I had to choose one national park to be confined to for a month – no hopping around, no branching out to nearby gems – 30 whole days dedicated to exploring one park and one park only, I'd pick Glacier in a heartbeat. I'm not even sure a month would be enough time to see all I'd want to see. I fell in love with this place instantly, but I always knew I would.

I drove in with a huckleberry ice cream cone from Willow's Huckleberry Land in one hand and the steering wheel in the other, feeling like I was riding in from town on a feral steed I nicknamed Buck or Wildeye. Winding 'round the historic, engineering marvel that was carved right into the rugged mountain range, I felt so cool. Cruising along Going-to-the-Sun Road made me feel like I was wearing a feathered stetson, three bolo ties, and spur-studded cowboy boots. There is no cooler drive than the one that twists and turns over the valley without any guardrails but loaded with scenic pullout points. It's not for the faint of heart, but if it scares you a little or even a lot, but you just feel called to it – go for it! You'll be proud as hell that you actually did it. And what a beautiful way to feel that is.

Of all the natural wonders I discovered on my last adventure, I'll just say this: when you go to Glacier National Park, you'll understand why it's considered the Crown of the Continent. 

These photos are just a taste of the magic you can expect to find in Glacier National Park and the Northwest.