It was the Fourth of July. Perfect weather for a swim and hiking. We took a dip that morning at the pool. A little boy waded up and asked if we were going to White Fish for fireworks.
“They have a good show there,” the little boy bobbed up and down, “Yeah, we went last year, too, and it was really great.”
“Thanks for the tip! Maybe we’ll see you there.” I replied as I held Keegan in the pool, bouncing his little legs.
We gathered all the children and piled in the van for our afternoon outing at Glacier. The entrance was close by and the place was lined up with cars waiting to get in. A warning sign about campers over 20 feet was posted in a few areas. We had left ours back at the camp.
Now this was my kind of place. The streams were plentiful with gushing rapids, waterfalls dumping onto the roads and lookouts galore with hiking trails marked everywhere. The kids wanted to watch a movie.
“Can we watch Sponge Bob?” Liam asked.
“Are you kidding me?” I replied with a quick look.
We were barely in the park and Sean had pulled over to let us out to hike a trail. Hiking trails with small children is not as hard as most people think. We let our kids set the pace, which is way faster and further than I care to go. Sean occasionally has to carry Bono, our almost two year old, and I carry Keegan in my Ergo Carrier. They always leave me behind on the trail but mostly because I stop a lot and take pictures and video.
Smaller streams of snow and glacier runoff feed these bright blue rivers. Large boulders line the banks and if one were to fall in, it would be a rough ride, if not fatal. We were headed toward Logan’s Pass and I sat in the second row with my guitar. A tunnel ahead bore right through the mountain’s rock and waterfalls cascaded down the other side. It poured over our van and the kids shrieked, “That was awesome!” and laughed. The road turned and suddenly the scenery was so vast that we pressed our faces upward against the windows to try to capture its full view. We had to get out!
Sean pulled over at a large area of snow covered with kids and their parents. Riley and Liam took off with Fionn and Bono carefully following behind. Haystack Waterfall was nearby and the rock formations that the water tumbled over was just that—it resembled a series of haystacks.
The mountains were simply majestic. They rose straight up into the sky and the faces of them were so steep it was a miracle that trees could grow on them. Looking carefully, I could see narrow streams that gave way to waterfalls. A few large stretches of crushed trees and repaired road could be observed from a previous winter’s avalanche. This stunning beauty was formed by abrupt chaos and unrelenting forces of nature, destruction and rebirth.
The road followed along the cliffs. Narrow with barely enough room for two cars to pass and guardrails large enough only for a tricycle, we could spot many areas of rock that other travelers had hit with their side mirrors. Sean drove with confidence and I kept playing my guitar, strumming faster and faster in attempts to calm my nerves. Folsom Prison Blues was never played so fast.
A woman was spotted above the road perched on a rock taking pictures of a mountain goat. We were nearing Logan’s Pass when suddenly, gray tumultuous clouds and high winds overtook the blue sky. Lightening and thunder clapped and Logan’s Pass’ Welcoming Center had sightseers, hikers and birders running to it for cover. It felt like November and I had left all the jackets back in the camp.
“Where are the kids’ jackets?” Sean asked as we piled out of the van. The kids were shaking with cold and looking at me.
“They are at the camp,” I said stupidly.
“You knew we were gong to Logan’s Pass!” he pulled his coat on.
“It was 80 degrees at the camp! I didn’t think we would need it.”
Sean whipped around the van and returned with umbrellas, rain ponchos and a backpack full of whatever else mountain men carry around.
I tried not to look impressed or in need of what he had. He gave me an umbrella and I struggled keeping it vertical. The wind nearly pushed us over and Riley’s umbrella had blown inside out. I wrapped Keegan in a blanket and grabbed our line of hands and zigzagged our way through the wind. This sucked.
Twenty-five glaciers remain in Glacier National Park and are estimated to be gone by 2020, or sooner. I stayed in the Welcoming Center with the two youngest while Sean took the older three out on a hike. Bono saw he was being left behind and threw himself down on the floor screaming. I was holding Keegan so I couldn’t successfully wrestle some sense into him. About fifty others and I had to wait out his rage.
After an hour, the gang finally returned. Wet and cold, they were happy to get back. I looked them over and did not see Fionn anywhere.
“Where’s Fionn?” I asked Sean.
“Here,” and he pulled down his poncho around his neck and there inside daddy’s coat was Fionn’s little face peeking up.
“A bit of a marsupial, aren’t you?” I joked.
Sean looked in his coat, “How are ya doin’, Fionn?” he laughed.
“Nothing!” and Fionn smiled.
“Nothing?” I jeered.
“FAT CHICKEN!” and he was off, down on the floor running and playing it off. He had to restore his cool.
We started heading back the way we came. I wasn’t so eager to pass those narrow roads over cliffs with practically no guardrails. Riley sat beside me in my row and laughed at how I closed my eyes. I felt nauseous. Thank god we made another stop to see some falls and hike.
Not sure of the name of this place, but to me it was the coolest thing. The mountain had deep rock crevices of at least 1,000 feet. Working like large aqueducts, it looked manmade. Down through these channels came volumes of glacier water cascading down these flat, multi-leveled chutes. Along the walls of rock grew ferns and a refreshing mist traveled over the rushing water. We followed it until it opened into swirling pools and then a picture-perfect waterfall.
The children ran ahead like young mountain goats with their father. Keegan and I took our time taking video footage and pictures. The path became more secluded in the forest and I no longer saw people passing by every few minutes. A sign was posted “Beware! You are in bear country. Many people have died or been seriously injured from black bears or grizzlies. They may attack without warning or reason. When walking, make noise. Use extreme caution!”
I stood there wondering where my family had gone. I took a picture of the sign and looked down the wooded path and listened for any signs of children. I wanted to warn them. After a minute of listening and thinking, I decided to go down the path.
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